Most Wanted
by SquishyCool
Summary: Explicit AU: After the godly veil on the Greene Family drug operation is lifted, 18-year-old Beth commits a heinous crime to protect her family. Now she's the only one left free and is making a run for it to New York City. When she meets single dad Daryl Dixon, who just needs a little help covering the rent, she quickly realizes that some secrets can't be kept forever.
1. running from my past

_**running from my past**_

It was the way he moved. From the moment he stepped through the door behind his slightly taller, lighter-haired friend, he lurked around like he was uncomfortable, like he was waiting for a bomb to drop at any moment. His dark eyes darted around the room, and Beth stepped back closer to the wall of the living room. She felt the need to watch him closely. She was wary of everyone and everything now. Her mother's and half-brother's blood still stained the floor upstairs, no matter how much they all scrubbed at it. She wouldn't let anything like that happen again - not to her family.

He and his friend approached her father, Hershel, who sat with Beth's older half-sister, Maggie, and her husband, Glenn. If Beth was reading them right, she'd say they were as wary as she was, but they looked worn-down and paranoid more often than not anyway. The recent months had brought more stress than ever before, and no one was handling it well. She tried to study the olive-skinned, dark-haired man as he stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, staying silent as his friend spoke to Hershel. She wasn't paying attention to anything said in the conversation, but they seemed to be calmly conversing so far. There were no signs of aggression yet.

Then it caught her eye, sudden and subtle but she knew it was there. The slightest outline of a gun came through beneath the cover of the guy's gray shirt and thick, leather jacket. He shifted his weight again and it disappeared, but it was obvious now that he was armed, and he seemed antsy to use it.

Beth glanced behind her to an end table that sat feet away in the hall, in which she knew a loaded Beretta 92 was kept in the drawer. She watched the interaction a moment longer, then discreetly stepped back until she was within reach of the drawer handle. She pulled it open and silently pulled out the handgun, all the while keeping her body acting as a blinder to what she was doing. She shut the drawer again and stepped back to her original spot, now with a heavy gun in her hands, held behind her back.

The man was still shifting uncomfortably but he wasn't acting paranoid like someone tweaked out on meth normally would – in fact, he looked clean. If he was doing drugs, he must've just started. His face was full and healthy, he was bathed and groomed, and his body appeared to be well taken care of. But his hand seemed to start itching, getting closer to the spot where Beth had spotted the outline of his weapon. Behind her back, she silently clicked off the safety on her own. For a second, her eyes darted to Maggie, who was surprisingly looking right at her. A familiar look passed between them, but before Beth could clarify what her big sister was planning, the glint of metal caught her eye. The sketchy guy was pulling out his gun, a police-issued GLOCK 22, and his predatory stare was right on Hershel.

 _God dammit,_ Beth thought as she simultaneously pulled the Beretta from behind her back, cocked it, and raised her arms in position to shoot. Her body instinctually moved to the proper stance for firing and she aimed as quickly as she could for the man's arm. She just wanted to disarm him. Besides, assault and battery of an officer is a much lesser crime than killing one.

But it didn't work out that way. It didn't matter how prepared or cautious Beth was now, or how much she'd prepared for plenty of situations just like this. She couldn't predict what Maggie was going to do. They both acted in protection of Hershel, of their family.

Maggie had grabbed the lamp that was inches away from her hand beside the couch and smashed it against the head of the lighter-haired man that had been talking to Hershel. This guy had been pulling out a gun, too – the exact same kind as the man Beth had just shot. It fell from his hands as he crumpled to the ground in an unconscious heap, blood trickling from his head. At nearly the exact same moment, the other man's gun dropped from the clutch of his hands and fell to the floor as well, but his body hit the ground much harder, as though he'd somehow fallen with more conviction.

It took only seconds for the blood to appear, and Beth's eyes widened as she lowered her gun and realized what she'd done. There was a dark red splotch widening from the man's – the _cop's_ – chest. His eyes were still open and staring blankly upward. A puddle of sticky, red blood began forming beneath the entry wound on his back. All the air in the room seemed to disappear at once. No one moved or spoke, and Beth was sure she could hear all their hearts pounding.

"Beth – y-you… That's a police issued gun… They're cops."

Glenn had been the first to speak. In the commotion, he and Hershel had both stood up, ready to defend themselves, but now they just stared in awe at the scene before them. His words echoed ominously around them. Maggie's breath came out as a whimper and gradually got frantic.

"What – Beth, I thought you… I thought you were just gonna knock him out!"

Beth reeled. Was that what Maggie had meant with that look? She didn't know why she did it, why she took the chance. She had been confident that her aim would be more precise.

Now she was a murderer. A cop killer. All of this was completely her fault.

"What. The. _HELL_?!"

The deep voice of Hershel boomed around the room, shaking them all. They all instantly turned their attention on him. His face was red and full of anger beneath his white beard, and his eyes kept darting around the floor, taking in every aspect of the crime scene in his home.

"Oh, no no no no. We can't have this – we can't _do_ this!" He was panicking, stepping away from the bodies of the cops, rushing to Beth.

He grabbed her hands in his, the gun still in her grip. She stared up at him, shaken and frightened, unable to do anything or react because this was her dad and she was always taught to respect him. But he was scaring her.

"Bethy, no. Look what you've done. This is _murder_ – this is a felony! They sent undercover cops here," he was frantic and rambling, his hands shaking hers, his blue eyes wild with fear and rage. "They already knew – fucking Annette and Shawn, the whole _damn_ thing brought all the cops down on us, they've probably got eyes all over this fucking farm. We're going to prison…"

"Daddy, no!" Maggie cried, unable to hold herself back anymore. She was watching her father's breakdown with concern, but didn't want to intervene too much in fear of his reaction. "We're not goin' to prison. We can run for it. We got plenty of cash, we can – "

"This is _murder_ , Maggie! Your sister killed a _**police officer**_! There's no gettin' away from this, there's no coverin' this up," Hershel let go of Beth's hands and wheeled around to face Maggie. "This whole _god_ damn farm is going down. I'm gonna die in prison. You and Glenn might get out in a few years - but her prints are on the gun, Mags. And they're probably both wearin' wires, they'll have the whole thing on tape!"

Beth knew this was serious. Her father almost never used swear words, and would always get onto her, even despite what you'd expect from someone who made and sold drugs from his family farm. He seemed to be ready to throw his hands up and surrender – it was over, the jig was up, he'd played his game as long as he could and now it was time to pay for it. But Maggie had a different mindset. She grabbed her father by his shoulders and stared into his eyes with ferocity.

"We can't let Beth go to prison for this, Daddy," she said firmly, and he finally shut his mouth and seemed to register her words. "There's a way to get outta this. Ya gotta help us – "

But just as suddenly as he'd seemed to be ready to listen, he was right back to full-on panic. He shook Maggie's hands off of him and stepped away from her, crossing the living room to the dining room where a large, ornamental crucifix hung on the far wall. In the mid-afternoon, the sun would reflect off its shiny surface and set a glowy haze about the large room. But right now, it just looked like a dark, sad shape that was misplaced, hanging forty feet from the bleeding body of a dead man.

Hershel had remained in the church even despite his bout with alcoholism and his eventual founding of a new illegal business. He was still just as much of a believer as he'd ever been, and he insisted his family keep up the appearance as well, even though they all committed crimes nearly every single day of their lives. _It's easier to look innocent than to be innocent_ , he would sometimes say, _justice will be served as God sees fit._ And it was something his family had learned successfully as they kept up the appearance of a law-abiding church family while they produced and sold very illegal drugs from the safety of their family farm.

But now it seemed all his sins had come to the surface and it was time to pay the piper. And he was ready to reap what he had sowed.

Beth, Maggie, and Glenn watched as the old Greene man dropped to his knees before the crucifix and threw his hands in the air. A bellow of pain and sorrow came from his mouth, echoing around the whole first floor of the house. He cried out, "Oh, _Lord_ , I'm sorry, forgive me! I've sinned! Over and over and over… I've broken laws of the land, I've put my family in danger! My wife and step-son are _**DEAD**_ – because of _me_! Because of my sins… I've raised my daughters to be murderers, thieves, liars – "

"Hey! I didn't kill anyone!" Maggie cried out in offense.

Beth shot a look at her sister, but they both returned to a confused state as they watched what appeared to be the mental breakdown of their father.

"I'm ready to pay the price. I have to repent. I have to do what's right, and accept the justice that's going to be given to me. I've lied for too long, used the good Lord and His church as a cover-up, He's punishin' me," his voice grew quieter as he lowered his head and readied himself to accept his fate. Beth knew the cops could show up in droves at any minute, but this reaction still didn't seem very helpful. "Oh, Lord, please _forgive_ me! Let me pay for my crimes as You see fit, until my last days on this earth –"

Maggie grabbed Beth's arm and jerked her towards the stairs. They quickly left their father to his yelling and weeping in the dining room as they rushed up the staircase, Glenn right behind them. "We gotta go, Beth," Maggie said, directing her to their father's study at the end of the hall.

Hershel's anguished cries echoed up the stairs. "Oh, my dear Annette, my poor Shawn, you both died in vain, all for this evil money!"

Beth was shaking. She hadn't noticed until now, the gun still gripped tightly in her hand, Maggie's hands shaking, too, as she frantically opened the door and rushed inside the room.

"Glenn, grab some bags, we gotta pack and go," she ordered her husband, and he immediately rushed to a drawer in the corner of the room where he began digging around and pulling out duffel bags.

Beth stood, quaking and shivering, watching her sister move aside the painting above the mantle behind the large desk that occupied the study. The wall wasn't bare where the painting had hung, but instead had been concealing the thick, metal door of a safe. Maggie spun the combination on the lock as quickly as she could, but repeatedly had to re-enter it as her hands shook and made her miss the numbers. The lock finally clicked and she jerked open the door of the safe. Beth had seen inside of her father's safe only a handful of times, and now wasn't much different. There were still piles of money, all large bills, wrapped in rubberbands. A few family heirlooms lay scattered amongst the stacks of money. Maggie turned around just in time to find Glenn standing behind her, holding out empty bags for her to take. She snatched one from his hand and began sweeping the contents of the safe into it. All but three of the heirlooms were swept into the darkness of the duffel bag, along with less than half the money. She handed the bag back to Glenn and he traded it for another empty one, this time a plain black backpack, which she took and hurriedly swept the remaining contents of the safe into.

"Take that last bag and grab us a couple essentials. I have hair dye in the bathroom, grab the scissors, whatever else we can use to disguise ourselves when we get outta here," she barked orders at Glenn as if she'd been planning for a situation exactly like this, and the slender Korean man seemed just as shaken as the two girls but he still obeyed her every word. He rushed from the study with one duffel bag over his shoulder and the empty bag in his hand, ready to collect more items.

Amongst the remaining items Maggie had just swept into her bag from the safe, Beth spotted her father's prized pocket watch, her mother's wedding ring, and another heirloom she couldn't identify that fell in amongst the dozens of bundles of cash. She wondered why Maggie was putting more money into one bag than another, but decided it wasn't the time for questions.

"Okay, Beth, I need ya to listen to me," she spoke very clearly, and stared intently into Beth's eyes as she zipped up the duffel bag and held it out between them. Beth nodded in compliance and forced herself to focus on her sister's words. "We're gonna make a run for it. I planned for this, okay? I didn't think it'd be this bad, but – I've always had a plan in case this all fell apart and we had to leave. And now it's time to put that plan into action. Me and Glenn will take one bag, and you take this one – just in case we get separated. Hold onto the gun – we're gonna get far away from here and then ditch it. It's evidence, Beth. We have to get rid of it and make sure _no one_ finds it. Then we gotta make sure no one finds _us_. I got hair dye and scissors, we're gonna get somewhere safe and change our hair. Cut it, dye it, whatever we have to do. Everybody in Senoia knows what we look like, and there's gonna be pictures of us everywhere. We can't be seen. We'll worry about everything else once we're far away from here. You got it?"

It was a lot to take in, but Beth nodded. Her older sister seemed to be calm amidst her panic, and it eased the young blonde to know that at least one of them had a plan of some sort. She felt dazed as Maggie instructed her to tuck the gun into the front of her pants and then shoved the duffel bag into her arms. It was weighed down with the money and valuables inside of it, and she clutched onto it like a security blanket. _This is a lot of fucking money,_ she thought to herself, terrified. Her family had sacrificed immeasurable amounts for that money, and now they were in too deep to walk away.

Glenn re-entered the room with his second bag full of goods. He tossed the bag full of necessities to Maggie, who caught it and swung it over her shoulder. She looked to Beth expectantly, who looked down at the black backpack in her hands. She quickly put it over her arms and onto her back, then followed her sister and Glenn back into the hallway and downstairs. They all seemed to be in a silent agreement now. Beth was calmed simply by the fact that she had Maggie to lead her and help her. If she were on her own right now, she'd probably lie down and give up, just like her dad was.

They all reached Hershel, still in his same spot in front of the crucifix, mumbling and weeping much more quietly than before. Beth turned her head away from where the two cops still lay motionless. She couldn't stand to look at the corpse again.

"Daddy, we're leavin'. I'm sorry," Maggie spoke softly. She reached a hand out and took Beth's in hers, interlacing their fingers and giving it a squeeze. Beth squeezed back, eyes glued to her father.

"Go. Go far away. Get out of here, girls. I'm sorry I failed you," he said, refusing to raise his head and look at his daughters. "I never should've let this life overtake us. You deserve so much better."

Maggie's eyes drifted downward and Beth's did the same.

"That's not true, Daddy. You did your best," Beth spoke up softly. Her words seemed to make Hershel sob harder. "We love you. Please… be careful."

"And don't talk to them. No matter what, Daddy. Me and Glenn won't either. Not a word. We'll fix this. I promise," Maggie added sharply.

Beth wondered how Maggie planned to "fix this" once the DEA came to the property and found the dead cop, the unconscious cop, and the giant meth operation that ran throughout the farm. But at least she had the right idea of keeping quiet.

The older Greene sister knelt down beside her father and put her arms around him in one last, brief hug. She pressed her lips to his wrinkled cheek and planted a kiss there, then whispered a soft, "I love you, Daddy," before standing up and motioning to Beth to say her goodbyes. Hershel was unresponsive, head hung low and shoulders slumped in defeat.

Beth knelt down beside him as Maggie had and leaned in close, wrapping her arms around the older man she'd once thought of as invincible. She hugged him tightly and pressed her face to his chest, taking in his smell one last time. She knew she'd never see him in person again. Even if she was arrested and convicted, or somehow escaped and never got caught, there'd never be a time where she could safely visit him in prison, or see him out in the world again, especially considering how old he was already. She wished she could drag him up and out of the house to run with her, but she knew he'd never go. He was too old, too slow, and too guilt-ridden. In a way, this was what he wanted.

"I love you, Daddy. I'll never forget you. I'm so sorry for everything… I promise I'll be good," she whispered into his ear then softly planted a kiss on his cheek, giving him one last squeeze with her arms before pulling away.

As if on cue, the distant sound of police sirens floated in through an open window nearby, and Beth's heart skipped a beat. It was rare to hear sirens out here, and considering what just happened, there was only one explanation for them. She and Maggie looked at each other, silently agreeing it was time to leave.

They weaved their way through the house to the back door as the sirens quickly got louder and closer. They were deafening to Beth in the still night air. Following her sister and Glenn out into the darkness, she pulled the back door of her lifelong home shut behind her and tried not to think about everything she was leaving behind – particularly her dad. They raced out across the backyard, between trees and barns and sheds, headed straight for the woods in the far-off distance. Lights were intermittent and scattered, and the stars were bright in the black sky above them. The sirens were everywhere as their feet pounded against the damp grass. The metal of the gun was hot against her skin behind her waistband and sweat formed on her forehead as she kept her eyes intently trained on Maggie and Glenn. The ominous red-and-blue flashing of lights came into view, bouncing off trees and farm equipment around them. Law enforcement was on the dirt road leading straight to their driveway.

The distinct sound of helicopter blades joined the chaos of noise around her, and she looked up to see the spotlight of a police chopper in the distance, quickly crossing the sky and ready to aim its beam all across the farm. She, Maggie, and Glenn would be sitting ducks. They were probably already surrounded. Her father had been right.

When she looked away from the sky and ahead of her again, half a dozen dark figures had appeared from towards the road to her left. They were all wielding guns, pointed at Maggie and Glenn and Beth, and running at full-speed, ready to tackle them to the ground. Beth's breath caught in her throat and in a moment of instinct, she darted to the right and away from the path Maggie and Glenn had been taking, where the police were about to overtake them.

" _ **FREEZE!**_ STOP RUNNING! EVERYBODY _FREEZE_! HANDS UP!" The police officer was screaming at the top of his lungs, and from the sound of his voice, his finger was itching to pull the trigger aimed at Maggie.

The brunette was agile, though, and she grabbed her husband's hand and jerked him in the opposite direction of the cop that was closing in, darting away just out of distance of his precise aim. They spotted Beth off to the side and noted the police on their other side, closing in fast. They kept their pace as long as they could, but Maggie finally realized the likelihood of her escape and made a last-minute sacrifice in desperation.

"Beth!"

Beth glanced over at the same moment that Maggie tossed her bag in her direction, thrusting it as hard as she could. Beth reached out and just barely caught the bag, then slung it over her shoulder without losing her pace.

"Just go! Get far away from here and don't be seen!" Maggie cried out, beginning to have trouble keeping up with her younger sister as the police got closer and closer.

"What – no! I can't leave you guys!"

"We'll be fine – somebody's gotta get caught!" Glenn yelled at her, breathless as he struggled to keep pace with his wife.

"Go, Beth!" Maggie yelled at her. She still held one of the duffel bags on her back, but Beth didn't know which one. "We all got jobs to do! Just remember what I told you! Get far away from here!"

Beth had an internal struggle that lasted less than a second but felt like an eternity. Her sister was steadily slowing, and so was Glenn, but she could run even faster right now and probably lose these cops. She just didn't want to do it alone. Leave Maggie? Just like she'd left her daddy?

But there wasn't time to argue or change her mind. Before her very eyes, the cop who'd been chasing Maggie and Glenn for hundreds of feet was now on their heels, and leapt out in a daring attempt to tackle the brunette to the ground. To Beth's horror, he succeeded. Maggie hit the ground hard, all the air leaving her body in a loud _whoompf_ , and Glenn immediately stopped and leapt in to help her, only for another officer to reach the scene and subdue him within seconds.

Her feet didn't stop. Her heart sped up, if that was still possible. An entirely new adrenaline rush pulsed through her body, and her legs carried her far away from the scene of Maggie and Glenn being tackled and arrested. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she ran, both bags banging against her back, her lungs and legs burning. Her hair was flying wildly behind her and she couldn't have stopped if she wanted to. The woods concealed her welcomingly, and she slowed only because she had to pay attention to the ground below her so as not to trip over roots or rocks.

The woods were otherworldly dark, and she would've been completely blind if not for the bits of moonlight that snuck their way in between the leaves. She ran as fast as she could, but everywhere she turned was clusters of trees and rocks, obstructions in the path, a large creek she couldn't safely cross. How many years had she spent playing in these exact woods? And now she was running for her life through them, the sounds of police sirens and yelling and helicopter blades still prevalent in the distance. In fact, the helicopter seemed to be getting louder.

She looked up and realized the police chopper had turned itself around and was heading in the direction she'd run towards. They must've seen her escape into the woods. The spotlight appeared and lit up circular areas of trees and grass all around her, darting back and forth, searching for any sign of her. She kept running, heading away from the spotlight, trying to outrace it.

"We know you're in there! We have you surrounded! No matter where you come out, we'll have you!" An authoritative voice boomed from the speaker of the helicopter, filling the woods with warning.

Beth's mind was racing. She tried to think, tried to focus, as she ran and ran, keeping a distance between herself and the spotlight. She knew she had started going northeast, and if she kept going that way, she could come out on the Highway 85 Connector. She'd have to lay low, but she could probably make her way to Woolsey and completely avoid Atlanta altogether – where they'd be looking for her the most. From there, she might be able to hitchhike. Or maybe she could use what Shawn had recently taught her about hotwiring before he died.

Her legs continued carrying her forward, even though the entire rest of her body was screaming for her to stop and rest. The spotlight was still within view, although it was actually behind her now and she was quickly putting more and more distance in front of it. She prayed they had lost her trail, or gotten distracted with arresting Hershel, Maggie, and Glenn.

 _Oh, God, what an awful thing for me to think. My family is going to prison because of me!_ She thought to herself, eyes scanning all around her for sign of an exit out of the woods. _But Maggie would probably be thinkin' the same thing. Like she said, we all got jobs to do. I have to make it out, I have to stay free. Or else all this was for nothing. Momma, Shawn, Daddy… our whole family would be a disgrace with nothin' to show for it._

She glanced behind her again to see the spotlight was getting farther away. She looked back and slowed her pace just slightly, giving herself a chance to catch her breath. When she could barely see the edges of the spotlight anymore, she found a large, shadowed tree and crouched down beside it. Finally stopping felt odd, and she thought she might collapse now that her legs weren't moving. Every inch of her body burned and ached, but she ignored it. She pulled the bag Maggie had tossed to her off her shoulder and brought it down in front of her, unzipping it carefully. She lifted it and tilted the inside toward a beam of moonlight, peering inside and reaching a hand in to shuffle items around. Scissors, two boxes of hair dye, sunglasses, pain pills, a bottle of water, a razor, deodorant, and a box of tampons. She nearly laughed aloud.

"You left me the essentials," she spoke quietly to the air around her, as if Maggie were standing behind her. The weight of her utter aloneness suddenly felt heavy on her shoulders as it became real. "That's why you packed your bag with less. You knew I'd get away. You gave me the important stuff just in case you got caught."

She shook her head and forced back the tears that were threatening to come forward. She swallowed the knot in her throat and then took the bottle of water from the bag and drank from it gratefully. She downed nearly half the bottle, then took the black bag from her back and opened it to reveal the wads of money and valuables, all still there. She took everything from the duffle bag and shoved it into the black bag, then zipped it up and put it on her back securely. She dug a small cavity in the dirt beneath the tree and shoved the empty duffle bag into it, then covered it with handfuls of dirt. When she was done, she wiped her hands on her jeans and glanced around. The spotlight wasn't even visible anymore, and the sound of the helicopter blades was much farther away, back in the direction of the farm. She turned and continued walking in the direction she'd planned on going, heading northeast toward the road that she hoped would take her somewhere she could change her appearance.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** All "The Walking Dead" characters are property of Robert Kirkman and AMC. The character of Malachi and the story itself are property of me. Republishing, copying, or translating of this work without direct permission is strictly prohibited.


	2. praying, feet don't fail me now

**_praying, feet don't fail me now_**

Beth's feet carried her for longer than she'd ever thought they could. She made it out of the woods after a couple of hours, then followed the small strip of highway while staying out of sight until she found the road she knew led to Woolsey. She kept within sight of it, but remained in the shadows of the trees, away from any streetlights or the occasional passing headlights of cars. She walked for miles, her pace still reasonably quick and her body mostly running on adrenaline. She kept glancing over her shoulder, expecting a cop car to appear any moment, or the helicopter to show up again, spotlight exposing her to everyone. But the road was mostly deserted and quiet, and she was alone except for a deer every so often. Coyotes cried in the distance but she felt no fear of them.

She knew there were some houses scattered along the road out here, and Woolsey was already small, mostly made up of a plantation and minimal residences, it would be easy to pass through unnoticed. Although broad daylight might prove to be another factor, she still didn't expect to run into many people. She needed to find a truck stop or a public restroom where she could assume a disguise in safety. But she couldn't risk being seen by anyone who could report her whereabouts, or being caught on security cameras. The police were bound to be checking every surrounding town's footage to search for any sign of which direction she headed in. She had to stay completely under the radar.

Where _was_ she headed, anyway? Past avoiding Atlanta, she hadn't put any thought into it. She'd planned on following Maggie, letting her decide where they'd be safe to go and how to get there. But now it was up to her completely.

 _Should I turn around and head for Mexico? The only place I'm really safe is outside of the country, but how could I get across the border without getting caught? And what would I do once I got there? I'd be carrying around a bag full of money in a country that's infamous for drug cartels,_ she thought to herself, racking her brain as she walked. _But where the hell is there to go in this direction? Washington? That city's dangerous, too. But it is big… Maybe I should go all the way to Canada? But again, crossing the border… Should I try to find the biggest city far away and blend in until they stop searching for me? I've barely even been outside of Georgia. I never got a fake passport like Maggie, I can't fly anywhere outside of the country._

A million solutions were bouncing around in her head, and she wished more than anything that Maggie were here with a suggestion. The sky above her was beginning to lighten up and the sunrise was threatening to break over the horizon before long. Cars were passing by gradually more often as people began commuting to work and school from their country homes. Beth drifted farther into the shadows of the trees, still wary of every vehicle that vaguely appeared to have lights atop it. But she hadn't seen a single police car pass by. Maybe the guy in the helicopter was bluffing. She was sure they'd had the woods surrounded, and when she emerged from inside them, she half-expected an ambush. But there was none. Just the silence of pre-dawn and the thump of her own heartbeat.

She continued walking under cover as the sun slowly broke the horizon and rose into the sky, casting bright morning sunlight all across the road and fields. Houses began to come into view, at first only one or two off in the distance, but as she passed by them and their empty backyards, the sight of the small town up ahead was visible. It was still quiet and Beth noticed that most of the houses looked empty for the day.

She passed by a handful more houses, some of which had laundry hanging from a clothesline in the backyard, others where she could see faint outlines of people inside getting up and ready for the day. She remained cautious and hidden amongst trees and shadows, trekking through grass and weeds as sweat soaked through her clothes in the rising morning heat. Late summer was definitely one of the worst times for her to be on the run, and she had barely a few sips of water left. She finally came upon the last house within sight before she'd have to enter the town, and she decided it was worth the risk to at least check it out. She knew from experience that most people around these parts weren't in the habit of locking their doors unless they had something to hide like her family had.

She emerged from the safety of her cover and darted across the open field until she reached the fenced-in backyard of the small, single-story home. The paint on the outside of it was chipped and old, and there was no car anywhere around it. One of the smaller windows was left open, but it was far too small to fit a human body through. The fence proved to be no obstacle as Beth hoisted herself up and over it, hopping down onto the ground on the other side and looking around cautiously. It was still quiet and desolate around her, and there was no one within distance to have spotted her. She dashed across the backyard and to the worn, wooden backdoor of the small house. She peered into the window first, assuring herself the house was quiet and empty. She turned the doorknob and, to her delight, it wasn't locked.

She snuck almost silently into the house. The inside was all dusty, hardwood floors, and the air was a bit musty and smelled of stale cigarettes and burnt toast. She paused once she'd shut the door behind her and listened for any sounds, but the house was completely quiet. She glanced around to find herself in a small kitchen. She walked across to a hallway and then, to her left, found a bathroom cramped with a bathtub, toilet, and one-person sink. The mirror hanging on the wall was cracked and dirty, and when she flipped the lightswitch on the wall, the light was dim and barely noticeable. But it would have to do.

Trying to move quickly, just in case the occupants decided to come home at any time, Beth took off her bag and unzipped it, pulling out the scissors, hair dye, and makeup. She turned on the water in the sink to full blast and stuck her head beneath it. It was relieving to have the sweat and oil washed from her hair by the cool water. Once her head was soaked, she grabbed a comb that was sitting beside the faucet and ran it through her hair. Then she took the scissors and, as carefully but quickly as she could, began snipping off inches of her hair. She'd never attempted to cut her own hair before, so it was one giant guessing game, but she watched herself closely in the dingy mirror and tried to make the style look intentional. When she was done, her hair barely reached her shoulders, and the back was cut at such an angle that most of the nape of her neck was exposed. She gave a disgusted face before sticking her head back under the running water, rinsing away all the excess hair.

Next, she briefly read over the directions on the cheap box of drug store hair dye and took out all the necessary items. She set to work, dousing her golden blonde hair with the black, sticky substance and massaging it in. Once it covered every hint of blonde, she grabbed a towel hanging nearby and wrapped her hair up in it, resting it atop her head. Now she had to give it a few minutes to set in.

She pulled out her nearly empty water bottle and drained it of the last drops, then walked back out to the kitchen where she filled it up at the sink with fresh tap water. She drank until she wasn't thirsty anymore and then filled it up again. She opened all the cupboards as well as the fridge and freezer, peering inside in search of something quick to eat. Whoever lived here must've lived on the bare minimum, because she couldn't find anything but instant noodles, coffee, old bread, and ketchup. She glanced at the front door curiously then decided to take the time and make some of the instant noodles. She prepared them quickly and popped them into the microwave, setting the timer before going back to the bathroom.

While the noodles cooked in the microwave, she unwrapped her hair and stuck it back under the running water in the sink, running her hands through her shockingly short hair and rinsing away all the extra dye. Once her hair finally felt clean, she lifted her head up and scrubbed the excess water away with the towel, then inspected herself in the mirror. She looked like a different person. She'd never seen herself with different colored hair – her momma had never allowed her to "ruin her beautiful, natural hair color." And now that she was looking at herself in the mirror, she could see the resemblance to Maggie.

She did, however, still have the remains of a dark bruise around her left eye. It had faded considerably over the last few days, and the cut on her lip was still a thick scab that had the potential of scarring, but the black eye stayed prevalent. Both of which were, of course, courtesy of her ex-boyfriend, Jimmy. He was in jail now, facing charges that could send him to prison, but she remembered that her eye had been so swollen, she could barely open it. She was glad to be done with that entire situation. Although she couldn't say she'd traded it for anything better.

She dried her hair a bit more with the towel, unable to stop staring at her reflection as she tried to recognize herself. She tossed the towel to the floor and scooped up the few makeup items she'd set out and began applying them to her face – concealer and powder around her eye to disguise the last of the bruise, and the slightest nude eyeshadow to blend it in and make it look like her natural skin color. When she was done, any discoloration was only noticeable from inches away. It truly felt like the old Beth was dead now. The last few hours' events had completely changed her.

The long _beep_ of the microwave sounded from the kitchen, shaking her from her thoughts. She gathered up all her things and packed them back into her bag – not forgetting to grab a roll of toilet paper from the cabinet, as well - leaving a pile of hair, trash, and black dye splattered all over the sink and staining the towel she'd used. She threw the bag over her shoulders and went back out into the kitchen to fetch her noodles from the microwave.

She found a fork in a drawer and used it to ravenously eat the hot noodles. She hadn't realized how hungry she'd gotten until she was finally able to stop and rest. Within minutes, she'd downed the entire container as well as another half-bottle of water. Finding herself still hungry, she helped herself to a couple slices of bread that turned out not to be too stale to eat. She wandered into the living room as she tore off scraps of bread and stuffed them in her mouth, her hair hanging wet and limp around her face. There was a small television set in the corner of the living room and all the curtains were drawn in the room. She found a remote resting on the coffee table and picked it up, pressing the power button and waiting for a response from the TV. Within seconds, the screen was lit up and the cable had come on, and the speaker was blasting the laughter reel of a sitcom rerun.

She turned the volume down until she could barely hear it, then began flipping the channel through the news networks. National networks were covering major issues and international news, but when she got to the local news out of Atlanta, the images on the screen made her heart drop down to the bottom of her stomach. She dropped the last bit of uneaten bread from her hand.

"And this is… just a few hours ago, right outside of Senoia. Jason, can you tell me what we're looking at here? Is this the farm where the drug operation was being conducted?" A female news anchor was speaking over helicopter footage of a farm – _Beth's_ farm – from just last night, spotlights everywhere, police and DEA and SWAT surrounding the entire property.

She stared as the news broadcasted the house she'd lived in all her life with a big banner at the bottom of the screen that read, " _Major Drug Bust At Local Farm – Large-Scale Operation Halted And Seized_." The screen zoomed in closer to the ground to focus on a line of officers leading Hershel out of the house in handcuffs, escorting him to a police vehicle with his head hung low.

The voice of a male news anchor piped in as she continued watching her father be dragged away to incarceration. "That's right, Amy, this is the Greene Family Farm where, reportedly, Hershel Greene – a local pastor and retired veterinarian – has been arrested along with his daughter, Maggie Rhee, and her husband, Glenn Rhee. We're still waiting to hear what exactly they're being charged with, but it's safe to assume they're facing some serious prison time. From what we've been able to gather so far, the DEA has been watching this farm for months ever since Hershel Greene's wife and step-son were murdered back in April in, what they believe to be, a drug-related dispute. They sent in two undercover officers just last night to stage a deal, but we're not sure what resulted from this, uh… situation. It's a safe bet, though, that they got their evidence, and this family is about to be doing some hard time, Amy."

The screen changed from footage of the farm back to the anchorwoman in the news studio, a small box beside her head that was still showing the arrests. "Okay, and I recently got word from the police department that – um, is this correct? Well, this is so odd… Apparently, the youngest daughter of Hershel Greene is missing. And _wanted_. That's right, they were unable to locate her during the bust and now she's missing, possibly on the run, very much dangerous, confirmed to have been highly involved in the operations on the farm. They've told me she may be armed and if you see her, approach with extreme caution and notify authorities immediately. We're waiting to get a photo, but – ah, yes, here it is. She's eighteen years old, blonde, blue eyes, five-foot-four, one-hundred-and-ten pounds. Eyewitnesses say she's wearing blue jeans, brown boots, and a baggy, gray tanktop. Police have mentioned that she may be heading to Mexico, according to the latest news from their sources."

Beth's breath caught in her throat as her picture appeared on the screen and filled the small square of the television. It was her senior photo, where her hair was styled and flowy, her makeup applied perfectly, and a content smile spread across her face. She had to admit, she looked pretty innocent in that photo, and it looked completely out-of-place in the middle of a report on a drug bust. The anchorwoman was understandably confused.

 _Mexico? What_ _ **sources**_ _do they have? Who would tell them I'm heading to Mexico?_ She wondered silently, then it dawned on her. _Oh my god, Maggie already talked to them – she_ _ **lied**_ _to them for me. She knew I wouldn't head that way. This must mean she thinks I shouldn't go that way either. Thank God, she's still helping me any way that she can, even from police custody!_

The smile that had fluttered to her lips quickly disappeared when they returned the full screen to the footage of the farm arrests. As the camera panned in and out from the helicopter view, they shut the car door on Hershel only to show another line of officers leading more people from the broken-down front door of the farmhouse. The crowd of heads cleared until the lowered faces of Maggie and Glenn were visible, their hands held together in cuffs as police held tightly to their arms and led them to separate vehicles.

There was Beth's big sister, who she'd looked up to her whole life, who had guided her through more than she could count, going to prison for something Beth caused. Her chest ached as Glenn, the man she'd come to see and love as a brother, was taken away for the same fate, all because the sister of the woman he loved had made a giant, horrible choice. Her eyes teared up and she wondered if she'd ever see her sister again. Would they give her and Glenn a lighter sentence? Even if they got out, would Beth be able to stay free, undetected, and somehow meet them again someday?

"Now, Jason, let me just get this clear, I'm just so _baffled_ by the details that keep coming in," the anchorwoman, Amy, was speaking over the footage as it panned across the farm, showing police busting down doors on sheds and barns, searching the entire property. "This is a pastor, apparently he's very active in the Senoia Baptist Church, and a retired veterinarian. He's well-known and well-liked by the community. But apparently, suspicions arose after the tragic double-murder of his wife and step-son in February. We're still looking into more details on this, but it seems to me like they've been running a pretty big, well-kept secret operation out of their farm, and the _whole_ family is in on it. That's right – this _whole family_ was in on this drug operation! From the son-in-law to the teenaged daughter who literally just graduated high school. I'm-I'm assuming the mother and brother had something to do with it as well, and got caught up in the nastier side of things. So sad… But, my God, what a situation! And don't forget, people, this young, sweet-looking girl is currently _wanted_ by the police, and soon, she'll be moved up to the FBI wanted list if they can't locate her. We think she may be headed to Mexico, but keep an eye out, she could still be in the state of Georgia, possibly even around the Atlanta area. Keep it tuned in right here, we're gonna go to a commercial break and we'll come right back with more updates as they come in – "

Beth pressed the power button on the remote and nearly threw it down on the coffee table. Her palms were sweaty and her skin was clammy. This was bad. Her photo was already on the news – she'd known Maggie was right, but she had no idea it'd get this big, this fast. She could only pray it didn't attract national attention.

 _Fucking sensationalist news stories and desperate reporters_ , she thought damningly. _But why didn't they mention the murder? I killed an undercover cop – wouldn't that just make everyone want to set out on a witch hunt for me even worse? Why wouldn't they release those details? Unless he didn't die... Maybe he's still alive._

She shook her head, staring around at her surroundings blankly. It was all so much to process, and she hadn't slept in twenty-four hours. That man had seemed extremely dead. Besides, what was she thinking? It didn't matter if he was dead or not – she was still facing a very long prison sentence, and zero sympathy from anyone. They were probably waiting to release the news of his death until they could notify the family or something.

In all her thoughts, she realized she was leaving too much evidence around. Whether it could incriminate her or not, she didn't want anyone knowing she was here or what direction she was heading in. She rushed to the bathroom and began cleaning up her mess, picking up her hair scraps in handfuls and throwing them into the toilet as she flushed desperately. She shoved the trash from the hair dye into the small waste bin next to the toilet. It wouldn't be so bad if she left some inexplicable evidence of her presence behind, she figured, but leaving traceable DNA was a different story. She searched the floor for all the hair she'd cut off and tried to collect it all, flushing the toilet with a bowl full of hair clumps half a dozen times. Once she was satisfied that she hadn't left any behind, she retraced her steps in the house to make sure she hadn't left anything else. She grabbed a towel from the kitchen counter and rubbed roughly at the handle of the doorknob on the backdoor, hoping she hadn't left any fingerprints that could be picked up. The gun still weighed heavy in her waistband.

Once she was done, she used her shirt to open the backdoor and pull it shut again, then crept out into the bright morning sunlight. She looked around to find her surroundings still desolate of any other people, and made the dash back over the fence, through the field, and back to the cover of the woods. Her bag was just a bit lighter now without the other box of hair dye, and her hair was still drying on her head. She silently contemplated on finding a change of clothes just to really throw off the current description of herself that was circulating, but she knew if she did, she'd have to wait for nightfall. And she wanted to be out of Georgia by then.

She started trekking through the woods again, keeping close to the edge with the road in her sight. She decided she'd have to go around Woolsey, and probably the next few towns after it, until she could get farther away from Atlanta and the people who watched their news. Hitchhiking was currently out of the question, but she could still hope for an unsupervised car that she could hotwire. And maybe some more water.

 **to be continued…**


	3. your secrets keep you sick

**_your secrets keep you sick_**

She had to admit to herself, it was a ballsy move to steal a car in broad daylight right from someone's driveway. But dammit, these people were practically _asking_ for it. In their small town comfort, they were in the habit of leaving their doors unlocked, their cars unlocked, and – as she flipped down the visor – their keys _in the unlocked car_. She squealed with delight at her small bout of luck and snatched the keys from their hiding place.

 _I guess it's no hotwiring for me today. Sorry, Shawn,_ Beth thought as she slid the key into the ignition and started the engine. The car quietly came to life and showed that it needed an oil change, but the gas tank was over half-full.

Giddy with anticipation and the small fear of getting caught at any moment, she hurriedly adjusted her mirrors and clicked on her seatbelt, then put the car into reverse and pulled out of the driveway of the small house that sat just outside Woolsey, on the side opposite of where she'd nearly entered town. She had veered through the woods around the tiny town, but came back closer to the road once she'd passed city limits and any signs of civilization. She had planned to continue walking under cover of the trees, but when she saw a small house sitting all by itself with no neighbors for miles, she couldn't stop herself. The curiosity grabbed her, and she had ended up approaching the house with caution. She checked every window for any sign of life and when it all seemed quiet, she checked a door just to be safe. It had been unlocked and she pushed it open to look around inside. But the house was deserted, or at least it was for the day. She was confident in her plan of turning around and running as far away as she could if anyone suddenly showed up. She'd even dared to call out into the emptiness with a timid, "Hello…?" But only silence answered her.

When she was satisfied that no one would emerge from the house to stop her, she ran to the only car in the driveway, parked close to the garage and covered with a layer of dust and pollen. It was a beat-up, 90s Honda Civic, and probably had a vivid coat of red paint at one time in its life. But now it was chipped and dirty and carried dents in multiple places. However, all the lights seemed to be in place and operational, and the tires had recently been filled with air. Once she was backing it out of the driveway, she was assuming it was a weekend car of sorts that the owner only took out to go fishing or drive around the country, maybe even make quick trips to town and back on the gravel roads. It ran much smoother than it looked.

She pulled out onto the road and sped away from the house, reaching 75 mph before she realized the house had already faded away in her rearview mirror and the speed limit sign posted said 60 mph. She slowed down and then kept the car at a steady speed between 60 and 65. Her heartbeat started racing as it dawned on her that being out on the open road in a vehicle was putting her at a much bigger risk than anything else. She could be pulled over for literally anything and that would be the end of all this. Had she even checked the tags to make sure they weren't expired? And what happened once the owners got home and realized their car was stolen? How long would it be before there was a report and people started looking for this car? And what were the chances that they'd have security cameras posted around their garage, or their property in general?

She shook her head and forced herself to focus on the road. She couldn't be weighed down with what if's right now, no matter how easy it was to sink into her own thoughts today. She was already torturing herself every few minutes as she imagined Maggie and Glenn being held in handcuffs, in separate rooms, continually interrogated and harassed by police. That should be her right now…

Beth tried to concentrate on her directions and figuring out where to go. She knew she'd have to backtrack from here – that's where the car helped in saving a lot of time – and go completely around Atlanta. She didn't even want to get within city limits. Atlanta Police were a whole other story, and they'd be searching everywhere for her. She couldn't risk being arrested so close to the scene of the crime. She was going in the direction she knew would take her back to a small town called Griffin, which she would also circumvent, and then she'd figure out which roads to take from there. Ideally, she'd avoid major highways and any encounters with highway patrol. Of all the police, they'd probably be the ones on the biggest lookout for any sign of her or a getaway car. She'd be willing to bet that they never expected a teenaged girl to be escaping from DEA and SWAT completely on foot.

She drove for fifteen minutes, half an hour, forty-five minutes… She passed familiar signs and landmarks. It took everything in her to stop from turning onto the road that would take her back to Senoia and her family farm when she drove past it.

 _Never return to the scene of the crime. Never return to the scene of the crime,_ she silently chanted to herself. But she was still wondering if that cop was alive or not.

It was just so difficult for her to leave everything behind so suddenly. Her entire world had flipped upside-down within just a couple of hours. Every memory she'd ever cherished, every lesson she'd ever learned, everything she'd ever owned or collected… all gone. Either left to collect dust in the crime scene that was the Greene Family Farm, or collected for police evidence.

If she were honest, she'd have to admit that she was the most regretful about leaving behind her songbooks and guitar. She knew it was unrealistic to ever have taken those things with her, but they held special meaning to her. She poured her heart out into those songbooks, spending hours and days on all the music and poems she'd written all by herself. They were everything to her, especially since she hadn't been able to keep a journal anymore.

The memory of a night just a few months before surfaced in her mind, and it only made her ache for her big sister even more.

* * *

" _I'm sorry, Beth. It's just not safe anymore. If someone got a hold of this, if you somehow lost it, or if the police showed up with a warrant and found this – "_

" _I know. It just… sucks. But I know."_

 _Beth swallowed the knot in her throat and internally punished herself for acting so emotional over a book. But it was_ _ **her**_ _book. It was all her thoughts, feelings, memories. She'd poured her deepest pains and her biggest triumphs onto these pages. This book had become her best friend for a while, a confidante she could never have in another person. She told it things that she wouldn't even dare tell her sister. And somehow it was always therapeutic, it always made her feel better in a way no one and nothing else ever could._

" _Okay. Toss it in."_

 _Her sister's voice sent a painful jolt through her and she forced herself to approach the large, metal bin. The thick and tattered book was held tightly in her hands, but she let it slip out of her fingers and listened to the clang of the metal as it hit the bottom. A tear escaped her eye but she immediately wiped it away before it could roll down her cheek._

 _Maggie squeezed the bottle of lighter fluid into the metal bin, making sure to douse the bottom. She then tossed it aside and pulled a match from the box in her other hand, lighting it and holding it out for a second as the flame grew on the tip. Beth stared at the glow of the flame and wished, for just a heartbeat, that her family were just another normal farming family. But they weren't. And they never would be again. Somehow she knew that this wouldn't be the last sacrifice she'd have to make for the sake of the people she loved._

 _Once Maggie had dropped the match into the bin, she stepped back quickly. The sisters watched as the flame jumped up above the rim of the bin, then settled to a medium height and crackled with the fuel of the thick pages that fed it. Beth held back a sob._

 _She knew it had to happen. It was one of many sacrifices she had to be willing to make. The last few months had shown her that their life was much more dangerous now than it had ever been before. They had to be especially careful and always cautious. Her family had to survive the only way they knew how, and she'd filled her personal journal with countless secrets and incriminating information, making the book into a dangerous weapon waiting to be used against them. She knew Maggie was right. But that didn't make it any easier._

 _Her sister stepped closer to her and put a hesitant arm around her shoulders in an attempt at comforting her. But Beth pulled away. She wasn't ready to be comforted right now. She just wanted to pour all of her thoughts out onto paper. It was the only thing that made her mind feel less cluttered, less full of nonsense and confusion. But it looked like she'd have to find a new way to cope – and that wouldn't leave a record._

* * *

Beth reached signs indicating the distances to Griffin and Macon much sooner than she'd expected. She almost didn't even notice the silence from a lack of radio as she drove. She was too caught up in her own thoughts and plans and meticulously checking her mirrors every few seconds to need a distraction like music. She became wary of which direction she was heading in. There were a lot of roads she could be turning onto, so she double-checked the horizons ahead and behind her and assured herself there was still no one else coming her way. Then she pulled over to the side of the road and slowed the car to a stop, putting it in park. She quickly opened the glovebox and started pulling out items, though there were very few. It mostly consisted of old napkins and receipts. However, hidden beneath the rubbish, was a dusty Georgia state map that was old, but still crisp and – most importantly – accurate. Amazed at her own luck, she unfolded it and held it out before her. Her father had taught her how to read a map, but she hadn't needed to do so in years. It took her a moment to figure out exactly where she was, then she traced the roads and highways in all possible ways to the state line. She eliminated the ways that took her too close to Atlanta or other major cities, then studied the final options and made her choice. She traced the path carefully with her fingers and squinted her eyes at all the specific road names and directions, trying to memorize it… just in case.

When Beth was confident in where she'd be driving for the next few hours, she pulled back out onto the desolate road and continued driving at no higher than the posted speed limit. She grabbed the sunglasses from her black bag and put them on then glanced at her reflection in the visor's mirror. She was shocked at the combination of her new dark, short hair and sunglasses. If someone were looking for her strictly based on the photo going around the news, they'd never give her a second glance. Although she hoped she'd be close to the state line before anyone reported the missing car.

She took every backroad she could find as she passed around Griffin, between Jackson and McDonough, through the numerous tiny towns that could barely be considered actual towns, then around Athens, careful to avoid Highway 85 as it came from Atlanta. She continued on the weaving and winding backroads as they took her around Anderson, sometimes finding gravel or dirt instead of any pavement. She was over halfway to the state line when she noticed the gas gauge on the dashboard was finally nearing the red E. Normally, it would've taken her to South Carolina and then some, but since she'd driven such a tedious route and taken on so many extra miles, the gas was drained. She'd passed a few signs but the towns they designated were too far out of the way. She'd driven past a handful of gas stations in the tiny townships that littered Georgia, and now she was searching for any signs that she may have a chance of coming across another one. She had only just passed by Athens, and within about twenty minutes, a sign came into view that told her she would be reaching a town called Ila in ten miles. She pressed the gas pedal a tiny bit harder and continued down the road, silently praying they would have a gas station and very few people. It was the middle of the day and she needed to get fuel for a stolen vehicle.

The gas light came on just as she entered the city limits of Ila and taunted her the whole while she drove. She knew she still had a little while before it would run dry, but she didn't know where the gas station would be in the town and she hoped it would last her until she could find it.

The town was extremely small, and if Beth had to guess by the amount of businesses, houses, and people that were outdoors, it couldn't have been more than a population of five hundred, if that. The streets were dead, yards were empty, and she passed only a couple of other vehicles on the road. She took one turn left, then another right, then another left a few blocks down. She searched everywhere and finally, her eyes caught the sight of a tall sign peeking over a building that showed gas prices and the name of a small town market that held a fuel center.

Appropriately named, Market On Main was indeed placed right in the heart of Main Street, although it wasn't as busy as one would expect considering the town was so quiet and empty. There were a handful of cars parked in the parking lot, and the fuel center advertised Exxon while the market itself appeared to be a more homely convenience store. Beth pulled in next to a gas pump and saw only one other car at another pump on the other side. She turned off the car and pulled out the keys, then grabbed her bag and opened it to fish out some money.

As she thumbed through the countless bills, she quickly realized they were nothing but hundreds. She searched anxiously for a twenty or even a fifty, but there was nothing that small amongst her father's savings stash. She finally pulled out a hundred and sighed in defeat, stuffing the zipped-up bag back under the passenger seat and leaving the car to head for the entrance of the market. Her sunglasses were on and she kept her head low as she crossed the parking lot, the sun glaring down as if it were trying to expose her to everyone.

There were other people in the market when she entered, but they were in different aisles and there was no line at the counter. The store appeared to be a tiny grocery store with a front end that resembled a convenience store. An older woman with gray hair pulled into a ponytail and a brown shirt with "Market On Main" embroidered on the chest was standing next to the cash register filling a display of new lighters. She looked up as the door _ding_ ed to announce Beth's arrival and smiled in her direction, straightening her back and setting her project aside as the young girl in sunglasses approached the counter.

"Can I get fifty on pump two?" Beth asked quietly, holding out the hundred-dollar bill with a polite smile.

"Sure thing, honey," the woman smiled back and pressed a few buttons on the register, then reached out to take the money. But she grimaced when she saw the bill and shook her head, retracting her hand. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but we don't accept anythin' larger than a fifty."

Beth's heart dropped, as did her smile. "You've gotta be kiddin' me." She realized that sounded rude and quickly apologized, "I'm sorry, I just – it's all I have on me."

"Oh, here, I could break that for ya," a man's voice piped up from a few feet behind her.

She spun around to see a young, blond man – a police officer - fully clad in a uniform that read "Ila Police Department," reaching into his back pocket and extracting his wallet, opening it and pulling out four twenty-dollar bills.

Her heart had nearly stopped at this point and her stomach was in the bottom of her feet. She had to consciously stop her hands from shaking as she smiled politely and handed the hundred-dollar bill over in his direction, carefully plucking the twenties from his hand and trying her hardest not to make any skin contact with him.

"Wow, thank you so much," she said, internally praying that her voice wasn't shaking. She was seconds away from cold sweat forming on her forehead.

"No problem. Must be from outta town," the cop, who was holding a plastic-wrapped sub sandwich and a bag of Doritos, replied to her, stuffing the bill she'd just handed him into his wallet while juggling his items in his arms. His shiny, silver name badge read _J. Blake_.

"Yep, just passin' through," she commented as casually as she could manage, turning around to hand the cashier three of the bills she'd just received.

He had only looked her directly in the face for a second and then had been too busy fumbling with his wallet to look at her again. She hoped he hadn't caught a glimpse of her full face, and that her sunglasses were especially dark over her recognizable eyes.

"Glad you could stop in our little town. It's not much but it's our little slice o' heaven," Officer Blake chuckled, and the woman behind the counter quietly laughed at his little joke as she counted out the change for Beth, who held her hand out and accepted the money as quickly as she could.

"Alright, there's yer change, darlin'," the cashier said sweetly, giving another large smile. "You have a nice day, and drive safe."

 _If you only knew,_ Beth thought to herself, but smiled and said aloud, "Thanks. You, too."

She stuffed the money into her pocket and turned to leave, heading straight for the doors with her head still bowed a bit. She hadn't looked up to see if there were any cameras and didn't want to risk it now. Facial recognition would probably end up being the downfall of her if she gave in to curiosity.

But she didn't make it all the way to the doors before she glanced sideways and spotted a refrigerated display just feet away from the entrance, against the wall. It held shelves of sandwiches in all varieties, as well as bottled juices, microwavable burritos, and Lunchables. Her stomach growled at her and she stopped in her tracks, then quickly veered her path to the side to approach the display. Now that she was looking straight at a whole wall of food, her stomach felt like a deep, empty pit that may never be properly filled again. It rumbled and ached, and she knew she needed food almost as much as she needed sleep.

She glanced back at the cop, who was finishing his transaction and chatting casually with the cashier about the weather, then looked back at the display. Everything looked delicious, but she reached out and plucked a roast beef and cheddar sub from its spot on the shelf, then a ham and Swiss sub that also looked appetizing, and without thinking, her other hand reached out and scooped up a turkey and muenster sub. She stuffed the three sandwiches into the crook of her arm and reached out with her free hand to grab a bottle of apple juice and a large bottle of water.

She was just about to turn around when the content of the officer's and cashier's conversation caught her attention. She stood still and pretended to be deciding on more food, but listened intently as they spoke with no discretion.

"You hear about that business down by Atlanta? That farm they busted?" the cashier asked.

"Oh yeah. They're lookin' for the youngest daughter. Even sent an APB our way. I guess they sent 'em all over the state. She could be anywhere," the cop spoke as if he'd already heard all the details of the case a hundred times.

The cashier _tsk_ ed. "Shame. Girl's only eighteen, daddy was a pastor, can't believe he'd let his little girl get all caught up in that nonsense. How on earth did they keep it hidden fer so long? That place looked huge on the news!"

Officer Blake's voice took on a slightly amused tone when he said, "Nonsense? That was a multi- _million_ dollar drug operation. All kinds o' stuff they found in there. Girl probably had no damn choice, if ya wanna be honest, Gretchen. At that size an' severity, it becomes their lifestyle."

 _At least this guy gets it,_ Beth thought to herself almost gratefully as she stood nearly frozen and hoped she wasn't appearing suspicious. She stepped around a bit, acted like she was making difficult decisions, but the pair behind her were still indulged in their conversation.

He continued, "But all the folks they had workin' on the farm were family and friends, some of 'em business partners. They all had just as much to lose from gettin' caught, so they helped cover it up fer a long time. And it was Senoia, it's a real small town. Y'know, somebody miles outside of here could be runnin' a meth lab, too, and we wouldn't be any wiser unless we had somebody actually report somethin'.

Beth's insides tightened and her mind reeled. _They know everything. They busted everyone. Everybody I know is probably goin' to jail._

"Well, that's just crazy," the cashier, who Beth now knew was named Gretchen, said. "I can't believe a man of God would use his influence and his God-given abilities to live such a life."

"Yep, there's some evil people out there, ya know. Wolves dressed in sheep's clothing," Blake remarked in a tone of voice that assumed superiority.

 _My daddy ain't evil. If anyone in my family is evil, it's me. How dare you talk about him like that when you don't even know him,_ Beth thought angrily. She wished more than anything that she could turn around and give this pair a piece of her mind.

"Ya heard what the daughter did, right? They finally released it 'bout an hour ago, but _we_ all found out this mornin'," Blake said.

Beth turned her head just slightly so she could glance at the clock that hung on the wall behind the counter and cash register. It read 3:42. They were wasting no time in releasing details to the public about the Greene's case. How much more time did she have to put a few state lines between her and Georgia? She turned back to the food display and kept listening as Gretchen gasped and eagerly asked, "No, I haven't checked the news, what'd she do?"

"Killed an undercover officer. One shot, straight through the heart. Left him dead on the living room floor and her sister knocked out his partner with a heavy damn lamp, nearly gave him brain damage. He's in a coma till God knows when – poor guy, he's got a wife an' a kid and another one on the way. They didn't put it on the news till a little bit ago 'cause they had to notify the next of kin first, but they told all the police departments. Heard about it this mornin' but couldn't say nothin'."

The cop sounded like he found himself very impressive for being a police officer in a tiny town in northern Georgia. Beth was burning with guilt inside, but the fear of how much these people actually knew about her subsided it considerably. Her mind ached with all of the new information and the harsh realization that, yes, she actually had killed that undercover officer – and even worse, Maggie had nearly killed the other one.

She didn't have to look back to already know the expression that was on Gretchen's face at this news. The expected tiny gasp came out, then a second of silence, then the over-dramatic old woman said quietly, "My God… how tragic. Prayers for those poor families… _Murdering_ a police officer, how could someone _ever_ …"

Beth's lips pursed and her stomach churned, but not from hunger this time.

"The murder weapon's missing," Officer Blake added, continuing with more details of the story. "That family had _hundreds_ of guns. They're _still_ findin' weapons, goin' through the whole place and searchin' everywhere. But not one of 'em was the one that killed the officer. They think she's got it with her, and probably a lot more weapons, too. They only found about a million stashed throughout the farm so far, and that's in every little hidin' spot they've been able to locate on the whole property. But the oldest daughter got caught tryin' to run with a bag full of old family jewelry an' about three-hundred-thousand bucks. But that don't sound right to any of the cops I've talked to."

"Whadd'you mean?" Gretchen asked, her interest in every little detail evident by her tone.

"Well, I dunno if they put it on the news yet, but this girl ain't just armed. She's runnin' around with major money, just like her sister was tryin' to do," the officer elaborated. "I mean, they ain't mentioned any money in the reports they've been sendin' us, but I wouldn't be surprised if she's caught with a full bag. See, I heard they found the safe in the old man's study left open – like it'd just been emptied. And then they catch the daughter with a bag full o' money and the kinda stuff you'd keep in a safe? Pretty obvious. The thing that's got me and the other guys wonderin' is – this guy stashed a _million_ _dollars_ in little increments all over the property. If he had a safe, I don't think it'd just be a measly three-hundred-k stashed in there. Had to be at least a million. At least, that's what I'm guessin'. This kinda thing could go straight to the FBI if they can't figure it out. All we know is that this girl's walkin' around with a missing gun and a bag full of hundreds of thousands of dollars and nobody knows where the hell she is or where she's goin'."

Beth's eyes reflexively widened at these words and her heart sped up even more. She'd known it was in the thousands that Maggie had shoved into her bag, but she hadn't thought about close to a million. She had to give this cop some credit – he was certainly observant and read between the lines. Or maybe her daddy just fit the profile of a textbook large-scale drug producer.

"Well, now, I thought she was goin' to Mexico. That's what the news said anyway," Gretchen said.

"They were sayin' that for a while, but they stopped. Atlanta Police told us they been interrogatin' the daughter and her husband. They thought she was complying at first, but now they think she was lyin' about most of the stuff she said – including where her sister is headed," Blake stated matter-of-factly. "And the husband just plain won't say anything, not even a word. Last I heard from a buddy I got workin' down there is the guy's been sittin' in the interrogation room for over twelve hours and ain't even had a drink of water 'cause he won't say yes or no – won't even shake or nod his head."

A sharp pain went through Beth's chest. _Glenn, you loyal bastard._

Gretchen _tsk_ ed again in response to all the news, but her tone returned to casual and she seemed ready to return to her normal life without any thought of other's wrongdoings. "Well that sounds like one hell of a mess, but that little girl's probably long gone from Georgia by now. Fifteen hours and no sign of her? Better start lookin' down towards Mexico."

Officer Blake let out a chuckle and patted the counter as he bid the cashier a jolly goodbye and stepped away holding his purchases.

The cop was just walking out the doors when Beth finally turned around. She debated whether she should risk facing the cashier again, but she quickly decided that if the old woman hadn't recognized her the first time, she probably wouldn't recognize her a brief second time. Beth rushed back to the counter with her arms full of sandwiches and drinks. She plopped it all down on the glass surface and waited for the woman to ring the items up, hoping she hadn't noticed exactly how long she'd been standing there "deciding."

"Saw 'em and got hungry, huh?" The cashier tried to joke, as if she hadn't, just moments before, been discussing a teenaged girl who had killed a cop and escaped the scene just an hour's drive away. But Beth only nodded and smiled in acknowledgement. She was already itching to drive far away from this town, as well as fantasizing about how the sandwiches would taste.

She walked back outside and to her car as quickly as she could while still attempting to appear casual. After tossing the food into the passenger seat, she fueled the car up and learned that putting fifty dollars into the tank was impossible because it only took forty-three to completely fill it up. But she didn't need any more reasons to enter the store again and be on the cameras for another second, or to stand before the woman who'd seen her photo on the news, so she left the balance as it was and got into the car. She buckled herself in and started the engine, then pulled out and away from the market and down the street. Once she was outside city limits and had found another rarely-used backroad that was heading in the direction she needed to go, she pulled over and put the car in park, then grabbed her bag from the market and began ripping open the packaging on all the food she got.

She chugged nearly the entire bottle of apple juice in under a minute, and while she was halfway through the third sandwich, the only thing occupying her mind was the thought of, _This would've been better with mayonnaise._

 **to be continued…**


	4. your lies keep you alive

**_your lies keep you alive_**

As she drove away from Ila, Beth's stomach twisted and turned and she continually felt like she may barf up all the food she'd devoured. Her mind was racing with a million different thoughts – about Maggie and Glenn in police custody, about the cop she'd killed and the other one who may never wake up, about every crucial bit of information that the police somehow had that could bring Beth down, hard. She had to get away, far away. And fast. But she couldn't risk letting her impatience get her caught. She continued taking backroads, avoiding Highway 85 at a long distance. Now that she knew for a fact that police all over the state were on the lookout for her, she had to be extra cautious. It doubled her time getting to the state line, and her eyelids were getting heavier and heavier by the minute. Gorging herself on food had been a mistake because it made her lack of sleep hit her like a ton of bricks. For the first time since she'd run away from the farm, she was really feeling the physical effects of staying up for over thirty hours straight. She was exhausted and sore and all she wanted to do was lie down and escape into a dreamless sleep where she wasn't running from the police or hearing about her family in police custody from complete strangers. She needed a shower, a soft bed, and a quiet room.

 _That sounds like prison,_ she thought scornfully. _Maybe I should just turn myself in… Why should my family pay for my mistakes? They're just going to come down harder on Maggie and Glenn if they can't find me._

She was regretting not having grabbed an energy drink in her haste at the market when the car jolted and demanded her attention. She looked around, confused, then heard the tell-tale sound and felt the sensation of driving over huge bumps in the road. _Clunk clunk clunk_ _clunk clunk clunk_! She immediately pressed the brake pedal until she'd eased the car to a slower speed, then pulled over as far to the side of the road as she could get and stopped. She heaved a dread-filled sigh and turned the engine off, then unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car. She looked down and saw that both driver side tires were normal. She walked around the front of the car and instantly spotted what she had been afraid of – the front passenger side tire was completely flat and almost blown-out from having been driven on. She crouched down and squinted her eyes, inspecting every inch of the tire that she could access.

And there it was: a large nail had gotten lodged into the tire and caused a hole, eventually deflating until it ripped the rubber and rendered the tire useless.

"Fuck."

There was no one around to hear her, and no cars had passed her on the far-off backroad for at least an hour. It was the hottest part of the day and the sun beat down relentlessly. She was surrounded by open fields and trees, but no woods and not nearly enough coverage for her to feel comfortable traveling by foot. She glanced at either end of the road then rushed back to the driver's door. She pressed the button inside to pop the trunk and then hurried to the back of the car, lifting the lid of the small, dusty trunk. She held her breath for just a second, but it was quickly let out with disappointment as she found herself staring at nothing but an old tackle box and an even older wool blanket.

" _Fuck!_ "

Tears welled up in her eyes and the heat was already making her agitated. She let out an angry scream and kicked the bumper of the old Civic as hard as she could, making it rattle. She tried to push back the tears but they were already streaming down her face. Letting out a huff of aggravation, she stomped back to the driver's seat and plopped herself down into it, reaching over to grab the map and unfold it. She looked around and then traced roads on the paper surface before her for a moment before figuring out where she was. There were still twenty miles between her and the state line.

 _Pretty sure I walked at least twenty miles before I got the car, so I might as well,_ Beth thought to herself, still angry to be forced to give up so easily. It had been so nice to rest her legs.

She didn't have time to be upset, as much as she wanted to sit down and sulk for a while. She had to keep moving, even if she didn't have the coverage of trees. As she gathered up the map and her remaining half of a sandwich and bottle of water and stuffed them into the black backpack, she figured if she stuck to the backroads like she had been in the car, she wouldn't come across many other people. And hopefully, none of the few people she did cross would think it suspicious to see a young girl walking near a strange road in the middle of the day.

She trekked through the flourishing grass and weeds, backpack securely on her shoulders, sunglasses over her eyes, and the gun she still hadn't removed from the waistband of her jeans. She just couldn't bear to stuff it in the bag – that would make the bag her one weakness. If she kept it on her at all times, no one could bring her down without quite literally _bringing her down_.

The sun beat down on her fair skin and made her dye-stained scalp sweat beneath her hair. There was barely any breeze and the humidity was high, as always. She trudged along, feeling more tired and weak than ever. She tried to stay out of view of anyone on the road but it was nearly impossible without getting so far away, she wouldn't even be sure she was still going the right way. The sun was inching across the sky, but not nearly fast enough for Beth's liking. She wished it would set already and give her some relief, but the minutes dragged on while she lugged her feet along the ground.

Her bottled water was empty and the back-up bottle in her bag was nearly dry, too. She had to have been walking for a solid three hours, maybe more. She knew she couldn't rely on her body's clock, but judging by how long ago the sun had set and how many stars were apparent in the dark sky, it appeared to be late evening. The humidity was subsiding and a light breeze had picked up. She swayed a bit as she walked, the soft evening air was making her even drowsier and clouding her mind with longings for her bed back at home.

Beth had been wandering closer and closer to the road as she knew she'd have to cross and get to the other side to continue in the right direction, and she was so distracted from exhaustion that she hadn't even heard the RV coming down the road and driving up right next to her. The rumble of its engine and the smell of its exhaust shook her from her thoughts. Her head snapped up to take in the size of the vehicle, and she realized it had slowed nearly to a stop just feet from her. All the sleepiness she'd been fighting with suddenly left her, and her heart leapt. She reached for the gun in her waistband but didn't pull it out yet, keeping her hand hovering over it. She could run, but she didn't know how far she'd get, or how many people might appear from inside the RV to chase her down. And considering how tired and sore she was, she didn't think she could outrun someone a second time. She wondered who was inside as the vehicle finally came to a complete stop and the passenger side window began to roll down. It wasn't likely the cops, but what if someone recognized her from the news, even without her blonde hair? What if it was an off-duty officer? What if it was one of her daddy's rivals and they tracked her down to finally finish off the entire Greene clan for good?

"Hey there! Are you alright? Do you need a ride?!" A cheerful voice came from the passenger side window, and Beth quickly realized it was an older woman sticking her head out from inside, a concerned look on her face as she looked Beth up and down.

She quickly remembered she'd taken her sunglasses off hours ago and had no idea how much of the makeup had stayed despite her sweat and tears. She realized she must look like a mess – dirty clothes, choppy haircut, bruised face. She couldn't think of what to reply with first: _"You don't recognize me?"_ or _"Why would you offer a total stranger in my state a ride?"_ or _"What are you doing driving way out here?"_

Before she could decide, the older woman motioned for her to step closer to the vehicle. Beth took a slow and hesitant step, then stopped, looking around and eyeing every detail of the RV. What kind of trick was this?

"Oh my – how old are you, little girl? What are you doin' way out here, all by yourself?" The woman proclaimed when she noticed just how bad Beth actually looked.

Beth shrugged, at a loss for words. Could it be? Could this be some kind of angel sent to her? The safety of an RV, a nice old couple who knows nothing of her case, and the means to cross states completely undetected? When would she find out it was too good to be true?

"I… I'm tryin' to get outta the state. My car broke down, but I – "

The older woman was looking Beth up and down knowingly, her lips pursed. She kept staring at Beth's bruised eye – the makeup was definitely not providing full coverage anymore. Finally, she spoke softer, just loud enough that Beth could hear her from less than ten feet away. "Did a man do that to you? Is that why you're tryin' to leave the state?"

Without thinking about her lie, Beth nodded her head and shut her mouth tight, trying to look as innocent as possible.

The older woman held up a finger to signal for Beth to wait a moment and retracted into the vehicle again. Beth could faintly hear a man's voice inside the cab with her, and assumed she was telling her husband the details. A moment later, she appeared again with a large smile on her face and gestured eagerly for Beth to step closer. The door behind the passenger cab door opened, and light poured down the small set of steps from inside. Beth took a cautious step forward, then another. She knew it was risky, but the temptation was too much to resist, and her gut told her there was nothing here to be afraid of. Or maybe she was just so exhausted that her fight or flight instincts were completely off.

Before she knew it, she was ascending the small set of stairs to the inside of the RV. It was cozy inside, a soft light bathing everything and the smell of cinnamon and violets wafting in the air. There was a small kitchen area to her left that lead off to a bathroom and bedroom area, a booth that could seat four or six people across from her, and the cab was directly to her right. In the driver's seat sat an older man, probably fifties or sixties, in what looked like a fishing hat and a Hawaiian print shirt, his hair gray and cut short just like his mustache and beard. He had a large smile on his face and his eyes sparkled as though he were happy to see her, even though he'd never met her before. And beside him, comfortably plopped in the passenger seat, was his wife, who looked to be the same age with similar hair color, though hers was wavy and hung loosely on her shoulders. She wore bright red lipstick and a broad grin like her husband, apparently overjoyed to be helping out a stranger.

"Howdy! I'm Dale, and this is my wife, Irma," the old man piped up, still smiling as he gestured to his wife, who waved gleefully from her seat. He had a friendly, welcoming face and an even friendlier demeanor about him.

Beth lifted a hand weakly and attempted her best smile, but every single muscle in her body ached. "Hi. I'm B – I'm Rosie."

Despite her sleep deprivation, she'd caught and corrected herself before she gave them her real name. Just like the cop and the cashier, she had no idea how much they actually knew, and any little detail might jog their memory and make them recognize her. She'd said the first name that came to mind – from one of her favorite Tom Waits songs.

Dale reached out a hand and Beth took it in a soft handshake, then Irma did the same.

"Nice to meet ya, _Rosie_ ," she said, giving Beth a knowing smile. "You look dead on yer feet. You wanna lie down and get some rest? We saw ya walkin' out there and you almost looked drunk."

"Yeah," Dale joined in, agreeing with his wife. "We had to stop and make sure you weren't lost or hurt. You're _not_ drunk, are ya…?"

His eyes had been drawn to Beth's bruised eye and she quickly shook her head. "No, of course not."

Irma chuckled and stood up beside her husband, sharing a look with him that said they were exchanging unspoken words before turning back to Beth. "Dale! Of course she's not drunk, look at her. She's not even drinkin' age. How old are ya, sweetheart?"

Beth thought fast – she didn't want to give her real age but she didn't want to say she was a minor, either. She'd been able to pass for older before, maybe she could now. "I'm twenty."

The couple looked surprised but nodded nonetheless.

"What were you doin' all the way out here, honey?" Irma coaxed gently.

Beth shrugged, giving them the first answer off the top of her head. "My car broke down a ways back and I just… got lost. What are _you_ doin' way out here?"

Her question made Dale chuckle and his eyes sparkled as they met hers. "In all honesty, we got lost, too! Just figured out where we were goin'. Got off track while we were takin' the scenic route."

Irma looked over at her husband in a gaze that emanated love and admiration. Beth thought she might be sick at seeing how in love these two were – and how equally goofy they were – but deep down, she found it more sweet than anything.

"Where ya headed?" Dale inquired, sticking his hands in his pockets and smiling kindly.

She racked her brain for an answer. The only thing she'd planned was getting to South Carolina. Past that, she had no idea where she'd go. Far away – that's all she'd planned for. Her mouth formed a response before her mind could give it a second thought.

"New York City."

It was the first thing that popped into her head that was far away from Atlanta, big enough to hide in, and still inside the country. It was a possibility, but she wasn't sure if she was quite committed to the idea just yet. Moving there had always been a little girl fantasy of hers, but she hadn't given it much serious thought since she'd entered high school and started planning for college.

Both Dale's and Irma's eyebrows rose in surprise, but they looked at each other with glee. Dale spoke first, "Well how fantastic! We'll be drivin' through there eventually!"

She looked at the couple with confusion. "You will? You're driving all that way?"

They nodded in excitement and Irma informed her, "Yeah, we're doin' a road trip of the whole country! We want to see every major landmark we can. We live in Atlanta, so we figured we'd head northeast first and go from there."

Beth's heart dropped and she tried not to panic. They were from Atlanta – did they watch the news? _At all?_ How did they not recognize her right now, even with the shitty haircut? Maybe they just hadn't heard about it yet. They seemed harmless enough, after all. Plus, if they really had gotten lost out here, in their own native home of Georgia, because they wanted to take a "scenic route," they must really be innocent. Nothing about them seemed conniving or misleading.

"Oh, wow. That's – that's great. Thank you so much, I-I really appreciate it," Beth stammered, trying not to let it show how worried she was.

They both smiled back at her and Irma stepped forward, putting a hand on Beth's arm gently. "Okay, you need some rest, dear. We can get to know each other after ya wake up. You can lie down in our bed. It's much more comfortable and quiet back there. C'mon," she said cheerily, guiding her back through the kitchen area and to the curtain that separated the bedroom. She pulled it back and let Beth step through, then stood on the threshold and held it open for a minute.

"Just make yourself comfortable. You can put your things wherever you like. Shut off the light and get some rest," she urged Beth, lowering her voice to add more seriously, "You're safe now."

Beth's eyes widened and all she could think to do was nod and mutter out, "Thank you." This woman had no idea what those words really meant to her, though. For the first time in over a day, she _actually_ felt relatively safe.

Irma gave another reassuring nod before turning and walking back to the cab, the curtain falling over the doorway once more and giving Beth privacy.

She barely remembered setting her bag aside and stripping down to her underwear – shoving the gun safely beneath her pillow, just like at home - because she was unconscious within seconds of lying down on the big, comfortable bed and wrapping herself in the thin sheet. It seemed to mold around her and swallow her down into it, and she fell into the deepest sleep she'd had in weeks.

* * *

Beth's eyes fluttered open and she wondered where she was for a second before her brain caught up and the memory of boarding the RV floated up to her memory. The room rumbled steadily around her as they traveled down the road. She panicked silently, sitting up and cursing herself for being so naïve. How exhausted was she that she'd actually agreed to getting on the RV of two complete strangers who were from Atlanta and driving God-knows-where? And she'd immediately made herself vulnerable, passing out inside and leaving herself open to any sort of crazy attack. What if they knew exactly who she was and wanted to drive her straight to the police? What if they'd tied her up while she was asleep and robbed her for everything she had?

But she wasn't tied up. Sunlight filled the room from the curtain-covered windows and she looked to see her bag was exactly where she'd left it, and the gun was still underneath her pillow, where she'd put it. The only thing that was different about the tiny bedroom was that her clothes weren't sitting in a pile on the floor anymore, but had been folded and set atop the bed in the farthest corner from where she'd slept. She leaned over and snatched them up, unfolding them and realizing they were clean. She stood up out of bed and slipped the clothes on, then grabbed her bag and rifled through it. She pulled out her father's pocket watch and checked the time: 11:18. As she stuffed it back into the bag and zipped it up, she wondered how long she had slept. Her muscles still ached, but nothing like the night before.

She warily pushed aside the curtain covering the doorway and stepped out into hallway of the RV. She walked through the kitchen area and stopped beside the booth across from the door when Dale and Irma turned around to acknowledge her.

"Well, good morning! Did ya sleep okay?" Irma greeted her with a wide smile from the passenger seat.

Beth nodded. "Really well. How long was I asleep?"

Dale was watching the road as he drove, and Beth looked out the wide windshield to realize they were driving past the ocean. It was endless and beautiful, flowing for miles and miles into the horizon. "You were out for about fourteen hours, I'd say. No wonder you looked nearly drunk, you must've been exhausted."

She reeled at this information – _fourteen hours_?! She had never intended to sleep for that long. Not until she was far, far away from Georgia. But by the looks of things, she was thinking she was already far, far away.

"Oh, yeah, I hadn't slept in like… thirty-somethin' hours. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to use your bed that long – "

Irma waved away her apologies. "No, no, it's perfectly fine! You needed it. We've been busy anyway! We got to Virginia Beach around sunrise and strolled the beach, then we had breakfast at a cute little restaurant on the boardwalk. Oh, it was lovely. I thought about wakin' you but you just looked so tired."

"Oh, that's okay. Um, where are we now?" Beth asked.

"We just passed Richmond. Almost to Washington, D.C., the nation's capital! We visited years and years ago, but it's worth seein' again. You're welcome to join us!" Dale said excitedly. "We're gonna take the White House tour, visit the Lincoln Memorial – "

"Oh, Dale, slow down a moment, the poor girl just woke up," Irma said, reaching over and patting his arm lovingly. She stood and faced Beth. "Are ya hungry, dear? I was just about to make some lunch. And I washed your clothes while you were asleep, they were pretty dirty. If you'd like, you can use our shower over there. Oh, and I just brewed some more coffee, I wasn't sure if you drank it but you're more than welcome."

Beth glanced back at the small bathroom area, which consisted of a toilet behind a closet-like door across the tiny hall from a shower stall. She turned back to Irma and smiled. "Oh, wow, thank you so much. I – uh – I'd love that, actually. Coffee sounds amazing, and I'm starvin'."

"Well then, help yourself, then go in and get cleaned up and I'll have lunch ready when you're done. Oh, and there's a pack of new underwear in the bedroom that I left for you. We picked it up at a store while you were asleep. I didn't know how many clean pairs you had with you, but you can never have enough. And there's a new toothbrush sittin' by the sink for ya," the old woman smiled and ushered Beth towards the back of the RV.

"Wow, thank you," Beth said, surprised, as she helped herself to a mug of warm coffee before heading towards the bedroom to prepare to bathe. She was starting to realize that Irma was one of those naturally matron-like women, with the need to nurture others embedded deep into her personality. She was lucky to have come across her at such a hopeless time – if they hadn't rolled up in their RV, Beth could very well be passed out on the side of the road right now.

The water ran black nearly the whole time she showered, and not just from the hair dye. She had been covered with dirt, grime, grass, and sweat, and the hot water sanctimoniously washed it all away as she scrubbed at her skin and lathered soap on more than once. She scrubbed her scalp and momentarily worried that the dye would rinse out, but reveled in the relaxing feel of washing all the grease and oil from her head.

She dried off and got dressed again, grateful to Irma for the pack of new underwear, which she extracted one pair from and stuffed the rest into her black backpack, then checked her appearance in the mirror. She grabbed the hairbrush that was sitting beneath the mirror and ran it through her tangled hair, which had remained just as black as when she'd dyed it. The bruise on her eye was fading, but it left blue and purple spots, and the scab on her lip was still as prominent as ever. She tried to avoid the mirror as she opened the toothbrush lying beside the sink and brushed her teeth for a bit longer than normal.

She had drained the mug of coffee in less than a minute, grateful for the caffeine and hoping it would rid her of the last bits of grogginess she still felt. After placing the empty mug on the counter beside the sink, she crossed the length of the RV to the booth where Dale and Irma sat next to each other on one side, each eating from separate plates that held a sandwich and potato chips. They had parked the RV at a rest stop beside the highway. There was another plate set out across from them, stacked with three hearty BLT sandwiches and a large pile of potato chips. A tall glass of sweet tea sat beside it, and the couple looked up to see Beth and gesture for her to sit across from them in the booth.

"You look like you feel much better," the old woman commented with a warm smile as Beth slid into the seat.

Beth nodded. "A million times better. Thank you so much – for everything. You have no idea how much it means."

Dale swallowed the bite of sandwich he'd been chewing and chimed in, "No problem at all. We love to help anywhere we can. You sure you can stand us all the way to New York?"

Irma chuckled at his joke and Beth gave a polite laugh before replying, "I'm sure I'll manage. I can give you guys gas money, or buy some groceries – "

"No, we'll have none of that," Irma told her firmly, pointing to the plate that sat before her. "Now you eat, you need some meat on those bones, hun. We'll be just fine takin' care of you while you're with us."

A warmth spread through Beth's body and all she could do was grin happily at the sweet, older couple that sat across from her, eating their lunches in contentment. She was regretting ever suspecting them of being a threat to her. They were obviously two of the sweetest people on earth, and she'd had the tremendous luck of running into them during her most desperate time of need. She could already tell they were a bit proud, and probably wouldn't accept any of her hundred-dollar bills as repayment for their kindness. But she knew she'd have to secretly leave them a hearty amount before they went their separate ways. It was the least she could do for how they were practically saving her life.

She scarfed down the first sandwich in her ravenous hunger, sipping the sweet tea and finding herself reminded of the refreshing pitchers of tea her momma used to make. This woman's tea was the first she'd had that actually came close in comparison.

"I hope it tastes alright, it's turkey bacon – we've gotta watch our cholesterol," Irma said as she watched Beth finish her first sandwich and begin on her second.

Beth cleared her mouth before looking up to answer, "Oh, it's amazing! Thank you."

She continued eating in silence until she had finished the second sandwich and most of the pile of chips. Dale and Irma were still taking their time finishing their own meals, apparently amused by the sight of Beth and her surprising appetite.

"So where ya from, sweetie?" Irma asked, trying to start a conversation.

Beth set down her sandwich and took a sip of sweet tea before replying, "Atlanta."

"So ya… didn't wanna get your car or anything?" Dale asked, sitting back in the booth and appearing rather relaxed.

Beth answered without thinking, "Wasn't my car."

She paused and tried to think of a lie when the older couple's eyebrows rose in surprise, but Irma already had an explanation figured out. "Was it… _his_?"

Beth immediately nodded, grateful for Irma's assumptions giving her a fantastic cover-up story. It almost made the black eye and cut lip worth it. She continued meekly, "It uh, broke down. And there was no one around, so I just walked. He's got eyes all over Georgia and connections to police so… I couldn't really trust anybody."

This was the first really elaborate lie Beth had told so far. She pulled the story from her head as she went, trying to cover her tracks and make herself look as victimized as possible. Irma's eyes had become wide and sympathetic, and she was hanging on every word the young woman spoke. Dale acted as though he was preoccupied with finishing his lunch, but it was obvious he was listening intently, too.

"Oh, honey, that's terrible," Irma said quietly. "I'm glad we found you. Now you're far away from that state, and far away from _him_ … I'm so glad you got out. It's not an easy thing to do."

"Irma's sister was in a relationship like that – wasn't she, sweetie?" Dale added, looking to his wife for confirmation.

She nodded and went on to tell the story to Beth, "That's right, it was about thirty years back but it was just awful. They were married for two years before it started. He started suspectin' her of all these things she'd never, ever do. They'd fight horribly, sometimes the police were called because it was so loud. Then he started isolating her from everyone, from her friends to me and our own mother. We weren't allowed to visit, couldn't call without speakin' to him first, and I'm pretty sure he would stand there and listen to any conversation she had on the phone. He knew what she was doin' twenty-four-seven. Then it got physical. By the time she managed to sneak away and come to my house for help, she had bruises everywhere and even a couple missin' teeth. He had… gotten her pregnant… against her will… And then one night, he beat her so bad, she had a miscarriage. That was finally enough for her. Soon as I saw her, I called the police and, well, she divorced him, _thank God_. And with lots of help from me and our momma, she got back on her feet. Now she lives with her second husband in Macon and they've got two children together."

Beth's jaw had dropped open and she stared in amazement when Irma finished her story. "Wow, that's… incredible." Secretly, she was relating to the details on a more personal level, and wondering to herself if that could've been her if it weren't for the help of her family.

Irma nodded knowingly and said decidedly, "So it's a good thing you got out when you did. Now he can't ever hurt you again."

Dale made a grunt of agreement as he finished the last of his lunch and Beth tried to change the subject by asking her own question, "So, do _you_ guys have any kids?"

Their faces simultaneously fell for just a moment, but Beth caught it and instantly felt bad. She could sense that something serious had happened and she'd asked the wrong question. But the couple perked up fast and Irma spoke first, holding her head high and smiling despite the sadness in her eyes.

"Oh, no. We wanted to, but – ah, I had a miscarriage when we finally did get pregnant and um… just never really tried again after that. It hurt quite a bit. But it's okay, because we decided there's a lot of life to enjoy together," she explained, smiling and gazing over at Dale, who returned her smile. "We kept puttin' off this darn trip until a few years back, I got cancer – "

"Oh, no, I'm so sorry," Beth immediately said, unable to hold back her shock.

"Oh, it's perfectly alright. I beat it," Irma beamed proudly.

"That's right, I thought I was gonna lose her for a little bit there, but sure enough, she turned around and beat the hell outta that cancer," Dale finished her story for her, appearing to be more proud of it than even his wife was. "That's when we decided to stop puttin' off the trip and retire already, just a couple years early, and hopped in this ol' thing."

Beth felt relieved to hear the conclusion, becoming closer with these kind, old people by the moment. "Wow, that's so amazin'…"

Irma smiled and patted her hand from across the table. "What's really amazin' is how we crossed paths right after startin' our long journey! Fellow Georgians, lookin' out for each other."

 _The courts would call it 'harboring a fugitive', though,_ Beth thought to herself as she nodded and sipped the last of her sweet tea.

 **to be continued…**


	5. they should've seen you, should've known

_**they should've seen you, should've known you**_

Beth, Dale, and Irma ended up chatting and swapping stories and jokes for the remainder of the drive to Washington, D.C. Her situation was constantly looming in the back of her mind, but it was the first time in months that Beth had felt like part of a normal family. It made her long for the memories with her mother and brother as she spoke about them, but she remained cautious and was careful not to give any identifying details during their conversations. She thought she saw the faintest hint of suspicion on Irma's face a couple of times, but she'd quickly laughed it off and continued being as sweet as ever. Beth remained mindful, though, and prayed that being out of Georgia meant she had successfully evaded the people who were actively looking for her.

Dale and Irma whooped and hollered happily as they entered Washington, D.C., and Beth didn't think she'd ever seen two people who were so joyful about life before. They had been discussing the itinerary for the day in the nation's capital while Beth sat in the booth, lazily watching the scenery pass by outside as she listened. She wondered how she could be sure it was safe to roam the city with this couple. What if the story had spread farther, or even made national news? What if Dale or Irma caught wind of it and recognized her? Would they kick her out? Call the police? She was starting to think that maybe she'd just stay in the RV while they did their tourist activities.

Once they'd parked and gathered their things, though, Beth knew she couldn't sit inside an RV all day while the old couple was out touring the city. But she also couldn't put them at risk – or herself – by visiting every well-secured structure in the nation's capital and appearing on dozens of security cameras for six hours straight. But she could lay low, avoid the most populated areas, and try to pick herself up some more supplies that would be helpful once she got to New York. Now that she had a destination in mind, it was time to start putting a plan into action.

Besides, if the couple happened to find out about her true identity while they were touring, she didn't want to be a sitting duck in the RV, waiting for them to bring the police back to arrest her and catch her with all her money and a murder weapon.

Beth made sure to stuff her gun safely and discreetly into her waistband, and strapped her bag to her back before putting her sunglasses on. She followed Dale and Irma outside and waited while they locked everything up and pulled out their tourist maps. She leaned over their shoulders to glance at the map, spotting a shopping center located just a few blocks away. If she were going to be here, she may as well get some new clothes and try to disguise herself more.

"Now I think we can just walk to the Lincoln Memorial here, and then make our way to the White House and the Washington Memorial – Rosie, you're comin' with us, right?" Dale paused his explanation to Irma and turned back to face Beth.

"Um, actually I was thinkin' I might check out the shopping center, pick up some new clothes. You guys can go ahead and I'll meet back here with you," she answered, gripping the straps of her backpack anxiously.

"Are ya sure? It's a big city, different from Atlanta," Irma warned her, concern on her face. "More dangerous."

Beth smiled reassuringly. "I know. I'll be fine. What time should I meet y'all back here?"

Dale checked his watch and glanced at the map again before deciding, "Let's say seven. And if ya get back early – here, we'll give ya Irma's spare key since we'll be together."

He nudged Irma and she reached into her large purse to pull out a key dangling from a small keyring. She handed it over to Beth, who took it and stuffed it into her jeans pocket. They said their goodbyes and parted ways, taking separate streets away from the RV. It had been nice to have the company, but Beth had to admit that the breathing room was a little nicer.

She studied everything about her surroundings as she strolled down the street, passing people and signs and small businesses. She had put her sunglasses on to help hide her face and her pace was quick, as if she didn't have six hours to kill. It didn't take long to reach the shopping center. She was a bit surprised at its size compared to how it had appeared on the map. There were countless cars parked in the parking lots surrounding it, and people were walking all around the premises. It made her a little nervous to be back in a city and around this many people again. The last time she'd seen a crowd, it was a crowd of police officers chasing her into the woods.

Beth stopped at the corner of the sidewalk as she stared at the giant building looming before her. It was filled with security cameras and watching eyes, probably tourists, too. How many chances did she have to be caught if she entered? But after a few moments' contemplation, she decided that her need for a change of clothes outweighed the risk of being recognized, and she continued walking in the direction of the entrance.

When she was within yards of entering the doors, the threat of metal detectors entered her mind – how had she forgotten? It was Washington, D.C., they probably had metal detectors at the entrance of every building, even the mall. What if they caught her with the gun? It would draw attention, and if someone stopped her, they'd find her with a missing murder weapon on her person and then –

But no. She finally came within sight of the doors and realized there was no such weapon detection system present. She let out a breath of relief at the thought that the only detection systems she'd have to be going through would be anti-theft. And there was absolutely no likelihood of that happening with her – she had more money than she knew what to do with. And more than she personally felt any single person should _ever_ have at one time.

The bag on her back was a giant handicap. As well as remaining mindful of her surroundings and who was giving her a second glance – if anyone – she had to be constantly conscious of where her backpack was. She felt it on her back, but as she passed through crowds of people between stores, trying to navigate some areas that were smaller than others, she worried that someone would pick-pocket her, and they'd find way more than they ever hoped to steal. After a few minutes of her inner turmoil, she finally gave in and turned her backpack around to hold it against her chest, the straps still around her shoulders. At this point, her freedom meant more to her than strangers' curious looks.

She spotted a woman's clothing store on the upper floor from where she stood on the ground floor, and figured it would suffice for a new outfit. She needed something plain and common anyway – the more she blended in, the better. But as she was walking towards the escalator, the display in the small window of another store on the first floor caught her eye, and she stopped to investigate.

She stepped closer to see that it was a "survival" store – like one of those places designed for Doomsday Preppers. But it sold real, useful equipment, and a lot of that was accessories for weapons. The display in the small window was a female mannequin wearing nothing but combat boots and a tight, white shirt – but the shirt had a small holster sewed into it right between the armpit and breast, where a fake gun was placed to simulate how it would discreetly holster a real handgun.

Beth stepped near the entrance to the store and peered inside a bit, unable to see any people inside who were shopping. She glanced around and realized there wasn't much traffic around this particular area of the ground floor, so she stepped inside the tucked-away store and began roaming around.

She found another display of the discreet gun holster, but it was amongst at least a dozen other types of holsters, some of them containing multiple pockets for storing more clips. She slowly strolled by each one, staring at them all, trying to figure out if she should take the chance and reach out to touch one, or check sizes. She glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to her, then reached out and carefully picked up one of the shirts from its display spot, letting it come unfolded and stretching it out before herself to investigate. It was just like what the mannequin was wearing, although it looked a little big to fit Beth's petite frame. She checked the inside for a size and found a bold, black L. She reached back to the pile and sorted through it until she found one that had an S stamped to the inside, trying to fold the first one she'd grabbed and replace it properly.

She was holding the shirt out inches away from her body, inspecting it and trying to imagine herself wearing it. She hadn't even seen, or felt, the tall man approaching her from behind.

"Good afternoon! D'you need any help there, young lady?"

His voice boomed out enthusiastically when he spoke, and she couldn't help but jump, startled, turning to face him with wide, terrified eyes. His smile grew wider beneath his handlebar mustache, though, and his blue eyes sparkled as he chuckled softly.

"Sorry there, didn't mean t'startle ya," he apologized, a bit quieter. He was a tall man, probably in his thirties, with pale skin, shockingly red hair, and a carefully groomed mustache and goatee to match. He had the build and tone of a military man, and wore a uniform with the name of the store embroidered on the chest pocket. Dog tags hung around his neck, and Beth guessed that they weren't part of the uniform.

She shook her head, forcing a smile and trying not to make too much eye contact. "Oh – it's okay. I-I was just looking."

The red-headed man smiled welcomingly and held out a hand, "I'm Abraham, this is my store. Just opened it six months ago. Thanks for comin' in, little lady."

Beth was a little taken aback by his enthusiasm, but appreciated the effort nonetheless. She guessed that he wasn't getting a big flow of customers in his store lately, judging by the looks of it at the moment. "Nice to meet you, Abraham. I'm, um – just browsing."

He then gestured to the shirt in her hand and said, "And those are new, just came in a couple weeks ago. Pretty nifty, huh? Can ya find your size? If you don't see it, I can check the back."

She shrugged and looked at the shirt in her hand. "Yeah, I was just trying to figure out which size I should get."

She held the shirt up to her torso and watched Abraham's face for an opinion as he studied it and thought for a second.

"Hm. Well, you're pretty small, and those are meant to be skin-tight so they're easily concealed beneath whatever shirt or coat you're wearing. I'd recommend an extra small," he answered, then pointed to a shelf just below the one she'd gotten the shirt from. "Should be some right there, on the bottom."

Beth followed where he directed her and found the XS-labelled shirts, picking one in black, and replacing the first one she'd had. She didn't bother looking at the price tag, feeling her face heating up more and more by the second as the red-haired man seemed to be desperate for someone to hold a conversation with.

"I, uh, I think I'll just take this. Thanks," she smiled forcefully.

Abraham beamed, "Fantastic! Let's go get you checked out. Unless you wanted to look around more?"

She shrugged and followed him to the front of the store, where he went behind a counter that held a cash register. He rang up the tag and gave her the total while her eyes darted around the ceiling and the upper corners of the small store, searching for signs of cameras or recording devices that could be capturing her face right now. But she saw none. She tried to discreetly reach into her bag and grab some money, blindly gripping a bill in her fingers and pulling it out of the darkness of the bag. She held it out across the counter and held her breath as the red-haired man took the hundred-dollar bill from her. But he didn't give her any odd looks, and he only held the bill up to the light for about one whole second as he checked to make sure it was real before shoving it into the drawer and pulling out the change in twenties and ones. She remembered that this was a big city and they probably saw large bills all the time, as compared to that podunk little gas station back in Ila.

"This is a smart purchase," he commented casually as she took the change from his hands and shoved it into her pockets. "You can never be too careful these days, it's always good to be prepared. Especially young ladies like you. There's a lotta bad people out there. It's good to be able to defend yourself. Don't matter how big he is, you can bring him down with one shot if ya know what you're doing."

Beth only nodded. _Yeah, a lotta bad people. Like me. Who most definitely can bring a guy down with one shot._

Before she knew it, Beth was saying goodbye to Abraham and heading on her way out of the store with a handful of twenty dollar bills shoved in her pocket and a small, plastic bag carrying her new gun-holster shirt. She headed toward the escalator that would take her to the upper floor, already planning out in her head how she would change in the restroom before leaving the mall and ditching her old clothes, which would bring her one step closer to being unidentifiable. It would also help her to feel a little more clean since that night – even two lathers in the shower couldn't quite get the feeling of grime out of her skin.

She was nearing the escalator when something caught her eye – a newspaper stand resting against the wall outside of a nearby store. She stopped and walked over to it, looking up and down at the different papers that were on display. _The Washington Post_ , _The Washington Times_ , _The Hill_ , _The Washington Informer_ … They all had different, but similar, front page stories and headlines, as well as photos. But their sidebar stories differed, and out of curiosity, Beth reached out and picked up each one, scanning the entire front page's headlines before placing it back. They seemed to all be focused on either Washington, D.C.-based stories or national headlines, mostly political or international news. Beth could feel the tightness in her chest slowly fading, until she picked up _The Washington Times_ and let it fall open, revealing the entirety of the front page. As her eyes scanned the page and reached the bottom right corner, the tightness came back, and it began to get tighter.

Right there, in bold, black newspaper print, was a headline screaming, _"Major Drug Bust Outside of Atlanta; 18-Year-Old Wanted for Murder of Officer."_ Right below the headline was an aerial photo from the night the police arrived at the farm, and Beth's eyes raced through the words that were next to it. There were only a couple of paragraphs for the story, and it continued on another page, which Beth had to stop and search for. When she finally found it, her heart skipped a beat in her chest.

Staring up at her from the thin page of the paper was her own senior photo – the same one they'd shown on TV – and a few more paragraphs about the drug bust and the murder of the officer. She read it all with a fat knot in her throat, thankful to see that they hadn't put any more details into this story than she'd heard at the gas station, but shaken to her core all the same.

She had never imagined her photo being in a newspaper for something like this. The last time she'd seen her own picture in the paper, it was in sixth grade in Senoia's small town publication, and it was because she'd made the honor roll for the entire school year. But now? She was a wanted criminal, a fugitive of the law.

The article didn't mention that the FBI were after her, but she knew they had to be by now. It had been plenty of time for her to get out of the state, how long would they wait before releasing the news to national outlets? What if her face was being featured on a twenty-four hour loop on CNN right now? How many people had seen the newspaper? Who even _reads_ newspapers anymore? How safe was she, roaming around with a different hairstyle and a pair of sunglasses and hoping for the best?

A million questions riddled her brain but she tried to shake them free. She placed the paper back where it was, picking up another paper that didn't feature her story and putting it on top of _The Washington Times_ , hoping to deter people from even knowing about the paper's existence. What she really wanted to do was throw that whole stack of _Washington Times_ into a fire, just like she'd done with her journal.

She quickly walked away, trying to look as casual as possible, even though she knew there wasn't anyone around paying any particular attention to her. She could feel her face burning as she rode the escalator up to the top floor, keeping her head down low and staring at the floor. That display of newspapers glared up at her from its spot on the ground floor.

The clothing store was quiet and fairly empty, pop music playing softly from the speakers in the ceiling. There were a couple employees at separate ends of the store, folding shirts and hanging up jackets. Only a handful of customers wandered between the displays and racks. Beth gripped her backpack to her chest as she stepped forward and gazed around the store. She tried to keep her face fairly low, turned away from any possible shiny surfaces on the ceiling that could be cameras. She tried to assure herself that it was nearly impossible for anyone to think to look for her on the cameras of some random clothing store in Washington, D.C. But she'd also seen a lot of crime television, and they made the FBI look like some sort of superheroes who could find you by using nothing but your scent.

As she strolled through the store, eyes searching the racks and displays for clothing she liked, she rounded a corner and nearly walked into another girl, whose eyes were glued down to the phone in her hands. Beth nearly stumbled, stepping back and apologizing.

"Oh, I'm so sorry – " she started.

The other girl seemed unfazed but didn't say anything, glancing up at Beth for only a second to see who she'd nearly run into before looking right back down at her phone. Beth cringed inwardly and stepped to the side in an attempt to go around the girl, but as she did, she noticed the girl looking back up and staring at her – as if she recognized her.

Beth turned her head instinctually away from the girl and rounded another corner, disappearing behind displays and shelves packed with clothing. She hadn't looked back to see just how long the girl had been staring at her, but anything more than a second was worth avoiding.

As she glided between racks and distanced herself well and far away from the suspicious girl, Beth grabbed a few things off the shelves that she had been eying but hadn't decided on. She was making a decision now to get what she needed and get out of the store, but not before making a couple last stops in the shopping center.

* * *

The bathroom was empty, momentarily, when Beth shoved her old, stained clothes down to the bottom of the trash bin that was stuffed with mostly paper towels. Irma had made a good attempt at washing them, but they'd gotten ripped and had earth stains that just would never come out. Plus, she'd been wearing them when she outran the cops, and she knew the authorities would have at least a vague description of the outfit. She even chucked in her old shoes, which she'd replaced with a brand new pair of casual black boots.

Glancing around one more time to be sure no one was coming in, she placed her backpack – now emptied of its contents – into the trash, shoving it down towards the bottom to join her shoes and clothes. She had bought a new backpack on a last-minute whim and transferred all her money and "survival" gear over in the privacy of the handicapped stall. The new bag was roomier, but not larger, and more discreet, so that it looked like an everyday purse rather than a Get Out Bag. Beth had wrapped the stacks of cash in the other clothes she'd bought – a couple of light shirts and a spare pair of pants – and stuffed it all into the bag safely. It zipped and latched shut, giving an extra step of protection. She threw it onto her back and checked herself in the mirror.

Her stomach churned deep inside her, and Beth realized she was leaving behind yet another part of herself. She'd felt like she lost a piece of who she was, at least somewhat, when she'd been forced to burn her journal, to leave behind all her memories and her entire childhood at the farm. And now, those clothes and that bag were the last pieces she still had left from her old life. If you didn't count the stacks of money, that is.

And she didn't.

But she knew it hurt for a reason, and she knew it had to be done. She had to change, quickly, and move. Before she knew it, she'd be in a whole new state, a whole new city she'd never even visited before, and she'd have to make a new life for herself. Completely alone.

Beth stared at herself in the mirror that hung above the row of sinks in the public restroom. Her blue eyes were bloodshot despite her fourteen hours of sleep. The bags under her eyes probably made it more believable that she was twenty and not eighteen, and she wondered if she could pass for a little older if she had to. Her face was pale and her black eye was still noticeable – _maybe that was why that girl had been staring? I hope…_ \- and she thought for a moment about getting some makeup and making an attempt at her face. But she already didn't recognize herself…

Thankfully, the shirt she'd bought from Abraham had, in fact, been a good purchase. It wasn't even noticeable beneath the loose, dark green V-neck and fitted, black jacket that she'd bought. The gun rested in its holster peacefully, just under her arm and next to her breast, and it comforted her to finally have it in a safe place, but still on her person. She was also glad that the jeans she'd bought fit her perfectly, having taken a guess at what size to get without having a chance to try them on. Now she looked clean and casual, and her hair had faded just enough to look more natural. She had to admit that she liked not having to wash and maintain long hair anymore, or worry about ponytails or braids. She didn't look like a criminal on the run, at least. But she didn't look much like a Beth either. She could be just another tourist in the nation's capital; a nice, twenty-year-old girl who had left her abusive boyfriend and hitchhiked with two total strangers in an RV.

Yes, she definitely looked like a Rosie right now. Fading black eye and all.

* * *

There was a small kiosk near the entrance to the shopping center that Beth had passed when she'd come inside. Their sign featured cell phone cases, cheap smartphones and flip phones, and pay-as-you-go phone plans. Beth had a few of the hundred-dollar bills stuffed into the pocket of her jacket for easier access, prepared to make her last purchase and leave. She'd only been in the shopping center for maybe an hour, but she wanted to get back outside and put on her sunglasses, away from all the security cameras and curious eyes.

A younger Indian man was running the kiosk, casually walking around and straightening his displays as he waited for a customer. Beth had seen people come and go every few minutes, but it wasn't particularly busy, so she took her chance and walked over. The man's face brightened as he watched her approach, and he put on his pearly white salesman smile, eagerly welcoming her to his little store.

It only took a few minutes for the man to help Beth find an off-brand smartphone that could access the internet with a monthly plan that she didn't have to sign anything for. He sold her a few months' worth of time for the phone, and she tried to be discreet as she handed a fistful of hundreds over to the young man. He took them carefully and got her change, then gave her the receipts and bid her a good day as she rushed to walk away. The street was within sight, and all she wanted was to be away from these crowds of people once more.

The plastic bag swung from her hand as she walked, the phone, cards, and manuals all stuffed inside. She still couldn't believe she hadn't thought sooner to buy a "burner" phone that she could also check the news with. Even if she were on some security cameras in that random shopping center, there was no way the cops could trace her on this even more random, prepaid phone. Besides, it wasn't like she had anyone to call or text anyway.

It suddenly felt like a small stone had dropped down to the pit of her stomach. She stopped dead in her tracks and stared down at the ground blankly.

 _I have no one to call or text. I can't talk to anyone. No one can even know I'm alive_ , she thought to herself.

Tears threatened to push upwards from her throat and brim in her eyes, but she pushed them back down and forced her legs to continue moving. She straightened her back and slid her sunglasses on over her eyes, walking down the sidewalk and farther away from where the RV was parked.

Now was not the time to cry, she had to remind herself. The smell of food wafted in the breeze, and she realized she was coming up on a cluster of restaurants and fast food joints. The last of her morose thoughts drifted out of her head to be replaced by images of all the possibilities she could have for lunch.

 _No crying today, Rosie,_ Beth thought, her new black boots padding on the cement. _At least your appetite doesn't ever have to change._

 **to be continued…**


	6. what's so good about picking up the piec

_**what's so good about picking up the pieces?**_

The bar and grill Beth was sitting inside of was a small, family-owned business situated away from the noisy, busy part of the city. It had a small bar, dim lights, and a dozen booths lining the walls. There were two TVs above the bar, but they were only airing sports and commercials. The employees seemed laid-back and it appeared to be only regulars residing in the restaurant at the moment, eyes focused on their hot wings and their sports teams. Beth had gotten a seat at a booth in a corner and placed her order – a cheeseburger and fries with a sweet tea – and set out to activate her new phone while she waited. She laid out her things in the seat of the booth and went about reading the manual and typing in the codes that would activate her minutes and data. She sat in a shadowy part of the restaurant, and she'd seen only security cameras pointed at the bar and the entrance when she'd walked in. The staff all seemed either too busy or too young to care about who she may or may not be, so she felt safe in this booth for the moment.

The phone was a pretty basic smartphone. Beth figured out fairly quickly how to download the browser applications she'd need, and within minutes, she was using her new data to check the front page of every news outlet she could think of. Just to be safe, she started with national names like CNN, Fox, and MSNBC. She scrolled and skimmed the headlines, but it seemed that all anyone wanted to talk about in the news lately was President Trump. There were other stories, but it was mostly about mass shootings, missing children, murdered children, or otherwise seriously harmed children. Beth let out a sigh of relief when she'd gotten to the tenth page of headlines on the sixth national news website she could think of and hadn't found a trace of a mention of the Greene Family Farm or the fugitive daughter.

She was beginning to look up all her local news sites from Georgia when a waitress approached her booth and set down a steaming hot cheeseburger and fries, asking if Beth needed anything else.

"No, thank you," Beth said, smiling politely as the waitress nodded and walked away.

She glanced at the burger but didn't touch it, resuming what she'd been doing on her phone. Her search results for Georgia news outlets came up, and the first couple were WSAV TV and Fox 5 Atlanta. She clicked on Fox 5 first, assuming that since it was Atlanta, it would still be pretty big news.

And disappointingly, she was right. The first large, bold headline on the website was something the President had done, but the second headline – still very large and bold – read, " _Search For Missing Drug Lord Continues, Second Day Without A Trace_."

It was all she could do to stifle the laugh that nearly burst out of her mouth. _Drug lord_? Good god, she barely touched the product, let alone run the whole operation.

 _Talk about fucking sensationalism. Are they trying to get people to care because they don't, for some reason?_ She thought to herself quizzically. _You'd think every pill-popping housewife in Georgia would be all over a case like this, wondering where the seemingly sweet and innocent little cop killer could possibly be going while her whole family sat behind bars._

She clicked on the headline to find that familiar aerial photo of her farm on the night of the bust, followed by her own senior portrait, of course. Below her photo read a small caption, " _18-year-old Beth Greene, wanted for murder._ "

Reading those words directly below a picture of the happy girl she used to be made her sick to her stomach. She glanced at the cheeseburger sitting in front of her again, but looked away quickly when she felt the nausea setting in.

The article stated all the same information she'd heard on the news, and from the gas station attendant, and in _The Washington Times_. They still weren't mentioning even a breath of a whisper about the FBI. But it had only been two days, so maybe she was just anticipating it too soon. They probably had to do a bunch of paperwork for some shit like this anyway.

She went back to her original search and checked the website for WSAV to see what the Georgia-wide news thought of the importance of her case. To her dismay, it was the biggest and boldest headline at the very top of the page. And they didn't skimp on the photos either.

" _Major Drug Bust Outside Atlanta; Entire Family Arrested, Daughter Missing and Wanted For Murder_ ," the bold print screamed at her from the screen of the phone.

 _Tacky_ , Beth thought. She was no journalism expert, but she'd edited her high school's yearbook for two years and knew that a headline like that was excessive. She couldn't help but roll her eyes as she continued to read.

Once again, it was the same story she'd already heard. They still weren't releasing the name of the officer she'd killed, but she knew she probably had another few days before she'd finally learn the name of her victim. They weren't even mentioning any more details about Hershel, Maggie, or Glenn. And they seemed to have given up on the Mexico story, because all they'd say was, " _She is heading to unknown whereabouts, last seen by authorities running north or northwest of Senoia._ "

They did, however, catch a very clear glimpse of what she was wearing. The police that had chased her must've gotten a good night's sleep and been able to recount everything in full detail, because this was the first news story she'd seen or heard that described exactly what she was wearing, how long her hair was, what color it was, and that she had no visible tattoos, piercings, or birthmarks. She was silently thanking herself for thinking to change clothes and throw out the whole fugitive outfit. And thanking Maggie for at least thinking to have her change her hair before anything else – definitely her most identifying factor.

She finally set the phone aside and called it a day on the news, at least for now. It relieved her just a little bit to know that the national news wasn't picking up on the story yet. But it also worried her that all the wannabe sensationalists in Georgia were trying to pick the story apart and make it more interesting than it was, which would attract a lot more attention. She could outrun Georgia, but could she outrun all of America? Her only option would be to run to the mountains and find a nice, cozy cave to call home. Learn to live off the land. Grow her leg hair out longer than the hair on her head.

Or maybe she'd just have to turn herself in…

That thought sent a chill down her spine, and all she could hear in her head was the sound of metal bars clanking together, cells being locked, flimsy food trays hitting plastic surfaces. She could almost make out the jingle of the chains that would be around her wrists and ankles.

She shook the thoughts from her head and tried to focus on the meal she'd ordered, which was getting colder by the second as it sat before her. But her appetite was completely gone. She checked the time to see that she still had at least three-and-a-half hours to kill before she should start heading back to the RV. But now she was beginning to think it might be a safer idea to just go back and hide for the rest of the day.

Leaving her food untouched, she folded a hundred-dollar bill and tucked it beneath her plate so that only the waitress would find it when she came back. Beth didn't feel like waiting for them to bring her check to her or ring it up, so she left another twenty-dollar bill under her empty glass of sweet tea, just so they'd know she paid for the meal and then some. Then she slipped out of the bar and grill and out onto the sidewalk, sunglasses shading her blue eyes and backpack strapped securely to her bag. The smartphone in her pocket weighed heavy with its reminder of GPS location, but she just kept assuring herself that no one knew who she was, and no one knew it was even her phone. If she had to, she could chuck it into a sewer right now and no one would know the difference.

Everything had to be detachable now. Everything had to be disposable and replaceable. Including her own identity.

Beth spent her last couple of hours alone walking the sidewalks, passing only the occasional office worker on lunch or mom pushing a stroller. She came across a small park and took a leisurely stroll, breathing in the fresh air and staring into the ripples of water in the pond that the park centered around.

She kept referring to herself as Rosie in her head, but she couldn't keep out the intrusive thoughts that were reminding her to enjoy this, that it may be her last tastes of freedom before the law caught up to her. Surprising even to herself, the first thing that came to mind was the image of Dale and Irma's disappointed faces when they realized they'd helped a fugitive cross state lines. It broke her heart to think of how betrayed they'd feel if they found out she was a murderer and not a battered girlfriend.

She kept picturing the cops waiting for her at the RV, guns out and vests strapped tightly to their torsos. They'd spot her from at least a block away, and she'd have no chance to run away this time. They'd probably make her get on the ground and crawl, throw her backpack to the ground, toss away the last of the things she had left from what had once been her big, happy family. Dale and Irma would be terrified and confused, Irma would probably cry and ask "why" over and over again. The handcuffs would be tight on Beth's wrists, and she knew the cops would take no steps to ensure her comfort because, well, she killed one of their own.

Tears brimmed at the edges of her eyes, but she blinked them away as quickly as they came. She took in another deep breath, exhaling slowly and forcing all the bad thoughts out of her head. She couldn't be thinking about what if's, only _when's_. _When_ she got to New York City, _when_ she made it to safety, _when_ she could lay low and wait for the cops to give up on finding her…

And then what?

She sighed and turned away from the pond, walking back through the park in the direction she'd come. She had a lot of shit to figure out, and only about four more hours of driving time before she'd be thrown into the deep end.

Beth was the first to make it back to the RV, but she hung back and waited for Dale and Irma to appear. She knew it probably wasn't necessary, but she didn't want to get comfortable so soon. She waited about a block away, standing discreetly near a shadowy, low-traffic area. She watched the RV and waited about twenty minutes before she spotted the old couple strolling down the sidewalk toward the parking area. She pulled her father's pocket watch from the pocket of her jeans and checked the time: 7:28.

She had dug the watch out from her bag and decided to keep it in her pocket after she'd left the park. In a weird way, it made her feel just a little closer to her daddy, who was probably sleeping miserably on a thin cot in some prison in Georgia. But it was her daddy, and she had to cherish the few things she had left of her family. She was the last Greene left, which was an idea that she was still trying to come to terms with. She wondered how long it would take them to charge Maggie and Glenn, and if they'd be out with enough time in their lives to start a family like they'd always wanted to.

Beth crossed the street casually and approached Dale and Irma as they were attempting to pull out keys and get inside the RV with their bags of tourist goodies. They looked up and their faces brightened when they saw her. She smiled and waved in greeting, and Irma looked her up and down with enthusiasm.

"Wow, you treated yourself! Oh, you look beautiful," she said, smiling widely.

Beth couldn't help but smile back, genuinely. "Thanks. I just… needed a new look."

Irma gave her a knowing look, as if the two ladies shared a secret, but Beth knew that the real secret was actually much darker. She returned the look nonetheless.

"How was your day? Did you guys get to visit everything?" She asked as Dale unlocked the door to the RV and ushered the ladies inside before following them.

The RV was darker inside since the sun was setting outside, and they had to turn on all the lights before dumping their purchases onto the table and setting about arranging dinner. Beth took a seat, still keeping her bag close.

"Oh, it was lovely!" Irma gushed as she moved about putting things away and admiring her souvenirs. "We visited the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Memorial, The White House – "

"Even though there's a clown inside right now," Dale chirped in.

"Oh, Dale," Irma waved her hand at him dismissively. "That doesn't make it any less beautiful. Or historical! Oh, the stories some of those buildings could tell. So much history in this city."

"And prostitution," Dale added.

Irma shot him a glare but Dale smirked at her, and she couldn't help but smile back. Beth watched with amusement and admiration. They reminded her of her parents, and what felt like forever ago. But it had only been months. Only months ago, they were in love and happy like this together.

"And how was your day, dear? No one bothered you? All by yourself in a big city like this, I was worried the whole time we were out," Irma asked Beth.

Beth shrugged but appreciated the old woman's concern. It was nice to know someone thought of her in a positive light today.

"Oh, I just kind of explored. No one really even looked at me, it was nice. I got some new clothes and a phone, I walked around a park. Pretty uneventful," she explained, but Irma looked enthralled all the same.

"Well that's great. Oh! We got you a souvenir," Irma chirped, suddenly remembering and shuffling through the bags they'd brought in. She pulled out a trinket and handed it over to Beth, who took it carefully.

It was a tiny statue of the Washington Memorial made into a keychain. On one side, 2017 was engraved in bold, black letters.

"That's so nice of you, you didn't have to get me anything. Thank you," Beth told her, standing and giving the older woman an appreciative hug. Irma hugged her back, and Beth could swear the woman had hugged her like she was her own daughter.

"Of course we did! You had to have something to commemorate our little trip together," she told the young brunette, smiling proudly.

Beth smiled back, but silently, she was thinking, _Yeah, I'm definitely not forgetting this year anytime soon._

* * *

The trio finished their dinner and left Washington, D.C. not long after nightfall, when the city was just beginning to light up as they put it in their rearview mirror. According to Dale, their next stop was Philadelphia. Beth felt some comfort in knowing she only had one more city to make it through before she'd be home-free in New York. She didn't mind the old couple; in fact, they were nice company at times. But she needed the freedom of being on her own to figure out how to be completely independent for the first time in her life. Plus, it was becoming a bit of a chore to check herself and remember what stories she had told them and what facts she had to keep straight. She'd always been very open with her family and able to confide in them, and it was a difficult transition to find herself feeling just as comfortable with Irma and Dale and wanting to tell them the truth, but knowing she couldn't.

She was still finding it hard to believe that they hadn't seen or heard a word of her case in the news. They claimed to be from Atlanta, but did they not pay attention to what happened in Atlanta?

It was normally only a two-and-a-half hour drive from Washington, D.C. to Philadelphia, but Dale and Irma were touring the country and seeing all the sights they'd never bothered to see, so they were taking every scenic route possible. Beth told herself to calm down, to stop being so on edge and antsy for the big city – it would come soon enough. She had to remember that she was out of Georgia, which was the only place that anyone was really looking for her. So far.

But none of that helped her impatience when the old couple wanted to stop at every sign welcoming them to a new state, or every other rest stop for "scenery photos." Beth found herself holding the camera most times. She was starting to see what she'd missed during that fourteen hour nap she'd taken.

She also found herself checking the news sources from earlier way too often. She knew that refreshing the pages every fifteen or twenty minutes wouldn't bring her any new results or update her story any quicker, but it was an impulse that she couldn't seem to control. She'd even resorted to reading through the readers' comments on her articles.

Those made her feel even worse than the articles themselves.

She didn't go through and read every single one, but she saw at least fifty or more, and they all seemed to be along the same lines:

 _How could such a sweet little girl go so wrong? Too bad, maybe prison will turn her right!_

 _If God were really in their lives, they would've repented and given up their evil ways long ago, now a mother, son, and officer are dead and the whole family is locked up, what a damn waste._

 _She won't get far. Cop killer? She'll be lucky to make it to prison, and things won't be much better for her there!_

 _Two days and they haven't found this murderer?! How far could she have gotten she's 18! Lock her up!_

 _May God have mercy on her soul. Justice will be served._

 _RIP to the officer she murdered in cold blood and thoughts and prayers to the officer who's still in a coma. I hope she fries for this!_

 _Hope they give her family the maximum possible sentence. They'll burn in hell for using God to cover up such an evil operation. Let's find her and show her what it means to be an adult and take responsibility for your choices._

 _Cop killer, don't waste my tax dollars on this low life, let her hang._

The knot in Beth's stomach grew tighter and tighter, larger and larger. She thought she might be sick if she kept reading these hateful comments. The way people really thought was disgusting, and she knew they had a right to judge her in a way, but at the same time, what would they say if they knew the _whole_ story? If it were _their_ daughter, what would they have done…?

No, her momma wouldn't be proud of this, or what she'd done. But she wouldn't shun her or condemn her for it either. Beth had been raised like this, she'd been practically groomed since puberty to be discreet, mindful, wary, and defensive at all times – and for a while, it was for reasons she didn't even understand. She didn't know who she was supposed to be afraid of, or if she was just supposed to be afraid of everyone in general. She didn't know if she was supposed to be expecting something really big and really bad to happen, or if expecting it was what _kept_ it from happening. She didn't know why her family was suddenly so stressed most of the time. And she didn't know when the last time was that she hadn't felt like there were a million secrets being held around her that she couldn't ever find out – or let anyone else find out.

All she knew was that one day, everything in her family changed. And it never went back to being the same again.

"Oh, I can't wait to visit the Betsy Ross House," Irma said cheerfully from the passenger seat at the front of the RV, eyes bright and full of excitement as they drove ahead in the darkness of late evening.

"Well, honey, don't you wanna visit The Liberty Bell?" Dale asked her, eyes focused on the road as he drove carefully, handling the large vehicle as if it were his second nature.

"Of course I do, dear, can't I be excited for both?" Irma replied, smiling playfully.

Beth sat in the booth, legs stretched out across the entirety of one side, and stared out the window, trying to make out the scenery despite the darkness of night. Her phone rested in her jacket pocket and her hand itched to check the news sources again, but after reading those comments, she forced herself to resist. She was pretty sure they'd been driving within sight of Chesapeake Bay for a little while now, and before long, she'd probably be able to see the Delaware River out the window.

But all the walking she'd done that day, even despite her extensive amount of sleep the night before, had worn her out, and the steadily rolling RV was coaxing her into a sleepy lull. Dale and Irma's idle conversations became white noise in the background, and the lights of nearby city skylines became blurrier and blurrier as her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Cars passed by outside the window like the pieces of a child's mobile moving around and around. The Beretta was warm and comfortable beneath her shirt, in its safe little hiding spot under her arm. And her father's pocket watch ticked methodically in her pocket, each second passing by quicker and quicker. Before she knew it, her eyelids were falling shut and becoming too heavy to rise again. Her breathing steadied and her muscles relaxed in a way that they couldn't when she was awake. An odd, comfortable sleep fell over her.

But it didn't last long.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself back at the farm. She was in the backyard and it was dark – like the night she, Maggie, and Glenn had run from the police. But it was silent and still now, undisturbed, almost as if that night had never happened. Beth took a step forward, toward the darkened farm house. She wondered if Daddy was inside, or Maggie.

But when she reached the backdoor and pulled it open, the inside of the house wasn't what it was supposed to be. It was dark and empty, broken glass lying across the scuffed and dirty floor. She stopped and looked around in confusion before realizing there was a dark mass in the far corner.

It was a person lying on the ground. Beth ran toward them, scared to find someone she loved beneath the shadow. When she knelt down, she realized there was a pool of blood lying beneath the motionless heap, its back turned to her. She rolled them over, lifeless arm flopping to the floor as their face slipped away from the darkness.

It was the cop. His olive skin was pale and cold, dark eyes wide open and unseeing. There was a bloody hole in his chest.

Beth gasped and jumped back. Her throat tightened and dread took hold of her insides.

"Bethy."

A voice drifted from behind her, and she turned around. There, in the dim light, standing amidst the broken glass, was her mother. She was still wearing the light blue nightgown she'd been wearing on the night she died, and her long, brown hair was in a braid over her shoulder. But she appeared to be unharmed, and just as Beth liked to remember her.

"Momma?" she struggled to choke out.

"Bethy, what have you done?" her momma asked, voice full of pain and tears forming in her blue eyes – the same eyes as Beth.

"What – I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to kill him, I'm so sorry," Beth tried to explain, suddenly realizing that tears were streaming down her face.

"You're a murderer, Bethy," her momma continued. "Why would you do this… after you saw what happened to me… why would you do it again, Beth?"

"Again? I didn't kill you, Momma. I didn't do anythin' wrong!" Beth was horror-struck, begging her mother not to blame her for her giant mistake.

Her mother's eyes were full of tears now, and a couple leaked out and down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and turned her face away from Beth, unable to look at her. Beth's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach.

"You didn't do anything. At all," her momma whispered.

"Momma, I didn't – "

But before she could say anything else, her mother disappeared, leaving her alone in the dark room once more. She turned to see the dead cop still lying there, eyes still staring up into nothing. Another voice came from behind her now, and she turned, afraid to find her mother again.

"Beth!"

But it wasn't her mother. It was Shawn.

"Shawn?"

"Wake up."

"What?"

She was confused now, staring at her brother – who, just like her mother, looked the same as she remembered him, pajamas and mussed, brown hair and all.

"Rosie, wake up." He said, louder this time.

Beth moved to step closer, to reach a hand out for him, but just as she was inches away from him, her body jolted and her eyes popped open. She woke up to find herself still sitting in the booth of Dale and Irma's RV, head rested against the seatback and face turned toward the window.

She looked over to see Irma nudging her, trying to wake her. She had no idea how long the old woman had been standing there trying to rouse her from sleep.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I-I dozed off," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes groggily.

"Sorry to bother you, honey," Irma apologized, her voice soft. "We just got into Philadelphia. We parked and we're gonna sleep here for the night. Do you wanna sleep right here? I can lay out some blankets for you on the floor, if you want more room."

Beth was still a bit in shock from the sudden change of scenery and subject matter. She was still trying to come to terms with reality while she attempted to shake away the haunting images of the dead officer, her momma, and Shawn. The RV was dim and calm, and Dale was rustling around at the other end, in the bedroom area. Irma looked exhausted and ready for bed.

"Uh, I'm-I'm okay. If you have any extra blankets or pillows, that'd be great," Beth said, yawning.

Irma nodded and headed off to fetch some blankets and pillows. She brought them out to Beth and started laying them out in the aisle to make a bed, but Beth stopped her.

"No, I can get it, go on to bed," she told the older woman. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

With a yawn, the older woman nodded and patted Beth on the shoulder, bidding her goodnight before retiring behind the curtain of the backend of the RV to join Dale. She'd left a light on over the kitchen so that Beth could see, but within minutes, the lights in the bedroom were dark, and the RV was silent and settled for the night.

Beth went about laying out a few blankets for padding, then set up the two pillows she'd been given and the comforter to cover her. She slipped off her boots, pants, jacket, and V-neck shirt, then carefully pulled out the Beretta from the concealed pocket in her shirt. She slipped it beneath her pillow, along with her daddy's pocket watch, before lying down and pulling the comforter over herself, settling in for a full night of sleep.

But now her mind was racing. The images from her short dream wouldn't leave her, and even gripping the gun beneath her pillow wasn't bringing her any comfort. She kept thinking of her momma and Shawn, which made her think about her daddy and Maggie and Glenn. She checked the time on the pocket watch: 11:57. At one point, she held the closed watch to her chest, closing her eyes and trying to imagine her daddy's face, trying to send him some sort of telepathic message. But it didn't make her feel any closer to him. She got the urge to check the news sites once more before going to sleep, but decided against it and convinced herself to wait for the morning, when there may actually be some more news.

It took nearly an hour for her to drift off. But after passing out in Georgia and waking up in Washington, D.C., Beth Greene was finally finding some restful sleep in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** I'd like to give a huge shoutout to **GracieMae11** and **Elodie Grimmesey**. Thank you guys for being so invested in my story and leaving such kind reviews and feedback. It really means the world to me! I'm honestly having a blast writing this fic and I keep having so many REALLY COOL ideas pop into my head and I have such a loooooong note on my phone about ideas and the timeline for this story and I just really hope you'll stick with me on this ride to see if I can get my shit together and write a coherent tale lmao And as always, if you have any questions or recommendations, feel free to review or PM me. Thanks for reading!


	7. all i did was what i had to

**_all i did was what i had to_**

Philadelphia was cloudy and dreary when Beth, Dale, and Irma woke up. The sky was threatening rain and there was a chill in the air as the temperature reached the low sixties, but the higher that the sun got in the sky – despite the clouds – the higher the humidity got, evening out the temperature so that it was suitable for a light jacket. Georgia was definitely warmer this time of year, but they'd travelled fairly far north by this point, so the southern heat was a problem of the past.

Beth woke up before the old couple, surprisingly. She had been sleeping restlessly all night, but it wasn't because of sleeping on the floor or being uncomfortable. She just kept having disturbing dreams. If it wasn't her mother looking at her like she was the bane of her existence, it was Shawn standing in the distance, just out of Beth's reach. Or it was Hershel, crying on a cot in an unfamiliar room, his face buried in his hands. Or it was Maggie with dark, heavy bags beneath her eyes and greasy hair, carving a shiv out of a toothbrush in her bright orange jumpsuit. Or it was a split-second of Glenn, his normally bright demeanor weighted down and shaved away by the cruelty of strangers.

But mostly, it was that cop. He looked drained of his blood, pale and lifeless, unmoving but unforgiving. His dead eyes stared back at her, and she kept moving to look away, to run away, but instead of escaping him, she'd feel her body suddenly jerk and she would wake up. Each time, she'd pull the pocket watch from beneath her pillow and check the time in the dim light. She was waking up nearly every thirty minutes.

The last time she fell asleep, she managed to stay asleep for a solid hour or two. The dreams didn't really stop, but they weren't quite as haunting. Thankfully, they slipped from her memory completely within minutes of waking up. It was finally past daybreak, and she figured she may as well get up before Dale and Irma needed to walk through her bed.

Her hand itched to write. More than anything, she wanted to pour all her thoughts and fears down onto paper right now. But she couldn't. Unless she were going to burn it right after. But what a waste of ink and paper that would be.

She tried to move around as quietly as possible, so as not to disturb Dale and Irma. Their bedroom was completely silent and dark, so she knew they were still asleep. She longed for the kind of exhaustion they had felt to put them into such a deep sleep. Beth had been that exhausted the first night they'd picked her up, but those fourteen hours were the most restful she'd had in ages, and probably would have ever again.

 _I've heard prison beds aren't comfortable, and your cellmates are usually loud and disturbing,_ she immediately thought. _So I'd better just be grateful._

She folded up all the blankets neatly and piled them together with the pillows in the booth, then slipped into the bathroom to quickly shower and brush her teeth. She finished drying and brushing her hair and getting dressed before Dale and Irma even started to rouse. When they finally emerged from behind the curtain of their bedroom, Beth was preparing to pour three cups of coffee.

"Well, good morning to you," Dale said happily, his eyes lighting up when he spotted the coffee.

"Good morning," Beth greeted them both, smiling despite her lack of will to smile.

"How sweet of you! Thank you, Rosie," Irma greeted, eyes just as bright as her husband's.

They took their full, steaming mugs gratefully and sat down on the same side of the booth, sipping carefully. They were still wearing their pajamas and robes, and they both had bedhead – well, what possible bedhead Dale had left anyway. Beth took her own mug and slipped in to the other side of the booth, squeezing in next to the pile of blankets and pillows. She didn't say anything, unsure of how much the pair liked to talk first thing in the morning.

They all sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping coffee and looking thoughtful and drowsy. Dale finished his mug first and went back to the pot to pour the last of it for himself.

"Want me to make some more?" he asked the ladies.

"Oh, please, hon, that'd be great," Irma replied, nearly finished with her own mug. "I'm gonna jump in the shower."

Beth nodded in acknowledgement and Dale grunted as he set about brewing another pot of coffee. Irma finished her coffee and left the mug on the table, disappearing inside the bathroom.

Beth realized she and Dale were alone for the first time since they'd met, but he didn't seem to really care. He was preoccupied with making coffee, and once he was finished with that, he picked up a book of crosswords that was resting on the table and opened it up, making himself comfortable in the booth as he put on his reading glasses and set about reading and scribbling in letters.

Beth continued sipping her coffee. Her hand was still itching to write, but it was also itching to check the news again. She'd held off since waking up, trying to put off the compulsion for as long as possible. But she figured now was as good of a time as any. It was already nearly 8 am, surely they'd be updating stories if they had new information.

She pulled the smartphone from the pocket of her jacket and began browsing the news sites. As always, she checked the national sources first. Thankfully, still no sign of her or her family. Just more Trump, and another story about how the environment is being destroyed and humanity is doomed. Next, she checked the two local sources. Still nothing new. In fact, they looked like they hadn't even been updated for the day.

She was just scrolling through the comments, once again, getting lost in other people's hatred, when Dale spoke up.

"Are you Facebook-ing? Or Twitter-ing? Or whatever it is," he asked curiously, eyes still focused on his crossword puzzles.

Beth looked up from the screen, a little startled by the sudden noise, and let out a little chuckle at his attempt to understand social media. "No, I'm not on any of that. Just reading the news."

He nodded, scribbling in more letters before he spoke, "Careful with that. That stuff'll depress the hell outta ya. Nothin' but tragedy and stupidity. They could convince you the whole world's gone to shit."

She raised her eyebrows, a little surprised at his sudden pessimism. Or was it pessimism towards pessimism? Somehow, he was still being optimistic.

"Yeah, I guess. But it's good to be informed," she said. She was still curious about how much he and Irma paid attention to the news, so maybe she could find out now by saying the right things without seeming suspicious – or guilty. If they checked it at all, they'd see her story in the Georgia news, and she'd have to escape before they decided to turn her in.

Dale shrugged, still studying his crossword carefully. "I find there are plenty of ways to stay informed without letting the mainstream media convince you what's important and what's not."

Beth was about to say something, but he quickly added, "And no, I don't mean those internet crackpots that some people my age actually listen to."

She smirked and watched a small smile form on his own lips as he continued, "You should see some of the crazies me and Irma live next to. Good lord, all they're missing is the tinfoil hats."

Beth chuckled and asked, "So what, you guys just don't watch the news? Or read the paper?"

He shrugged again and answered, "Nope. We just decided not to, just to see what it'd be like. So far, it's pretty nice. We figured, hell, we're drivin' around the whole country in a big circle, if anything _real_ important happens, somebody'll let us know. The world's not gonna end while we're road tripping. And if it does, so be it. When it's my time, it's my time. I don't need a bunch of strangers getting paid to tell me how many different ways I'm dying, or reminding me how screwed the country is."

She nodded but didn't know what to say. At least he'd answered her question – now she knew why they hadn't heard of her story or recognized her. She was thanking God for letting her be so lucky as to have this particular couple come across her and offer help.

With perfect timing, Irma emerged from the bathroom, dressed and groomed for the day. She helped herself to the freshly brewed coffee, then walked over to Dale and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Your turn," she told him, and he grunted in acknowledgement, scribbling in one last word before returning the puzzle book to its spot on the table. He got up and walked back to the bathroom, disappearing inside like Irma had.

The old woman took a hearty drink from her fresh cup of coffee before setting about the kitchen to make breakfast. Before long, the whole RV smelled like fresh coffee, cooking bacon, and browning toast. Beth's stomach growled loudly.

Dale emerged from the bathroom, showered, shaved, and dressed, just in time for Irma to begin setting out plates on the table. Beth was still sitting in the booth, reading other news articles on her phone in an attempt to distract herself from her own. The couple worked in content silence together to finish cooking breakfast and serving it onto plates. They placed a plate stacked with cheesy eggs, bacon, hash browns, and a toasted English muffin in front of Beth before settling into the booth with their own full plates.

"Wow, thank you," Beth said, her mouth watering at the very sight of the huge breakfast. She immediately dug in, savoring every bite. She couldn't help but think of how much she would miss having home-cooked meals like this made for her - with love.

"Of course!" Irma said happily, she and her husband digging into their own plates with equal enthusiasm. "Are you coming with us today?"

Beth hadn't even thought about what she would be doing all day. A part of her wanted to stay and hide in the RV, just to be safe. But another, larger part wanted to get some fresh air, enjoy the cloudy weather in Pennsylvania, and maybe see some landmarks. She figured the landmarks in Philadelphia weren't nearly as high priority as in D.C., so maybe there wouldn't be quite as much surveillance. But if there was, she could always make excuses and duck out. She'd just have to keep her eye out for cameras and whatnot… just like she'd been constantly doing for the last forty-eight or so hours.

Anything had to be better than sitting in an empty RV all day, checking the same two news sites every three minutes and basically practicing for when she'd be sitting in her cell in maximum security prison.

She chewed her food slowly and thoughtfully, trying to look like she was finishing her bite before answering, when she was really just trying to think. She finally shrugged and said, "I guess, if you'd like me to tag along. I don't want to interrupt or anything."

Irma smiled, excitement showing in her face. "Of course not! We'd love to have you join us."

Beth nodded, almost hesitantly. She tried to assure herself that she could just make excuses and bail, if need be. There was always a way out. And she was always ready to go. On the bright side, she was already halfway to New York. She knew that things could always be worse, because she _could_ still be stuck in Georgia with the whole state searching for her. The chances that any of the random people in Philadelphia would recognize her were slim, as long as she kept her head down.

Once they'd finished their breakfasts and the second pot of coffee, Dale and Irma washed the dishes and put them away while Beth sat at the booth and checked the news again. She found no new updates.

With the dishes clean and in their places, Dale laid out a map of all the landmarks in Philadelphia – very similar to the map he'd had for D.C. Beth figured he probably got a whole series of them for every city that he was planning on visiting. The thought reminded Beth that she needed to plan more for her destination approaching soon.

"So we're parked here, we're gonna take this street down to here and stop first at The Liberty Bell, then we can loop around and visit the Betsy Ross House, of course," he looked up at Irma for assurance when he said this, who smiled, pleased. He continued, "Then we'll just head down this way and see a couple sights before heading back up this way and visiting the zoo."

Beth raised her eyebrows. "The zoo?"

Dale nodded and Irma smiled, chirping, "Oh, yes!"

She cringed inwardly, but put on a smile for the old couple. She hadn't been to a zoo in years. Zoos were large and crowded and full of strangers of all different kinds. The last time she'd been was when she was 13 and her family had gone as a group. They were happy that day, and carefree. She remembered it fondly. But they hadn't had the time to visit any zoo since then, especially the last couple of years.

"Honey – do you need to borrow my makeup? To cover up that black eye? Or do you need help applying it?" Irma offered, noticing how worried Beth was looking at the idea of a large, crowded zoo. "Is that what you're worried about? I bet people stare at that darned thing all the time. Strangers can be so rude."

Beth shook her head, but then realized that she had no other real explanation for why she wouldn't want to go to a zoo with this nice couple. Or rather, _Rosie_ didn't have any other real explanation.

"Um – yeah. Yeah, that would uh, make me feel a lot better," she lied, putting on her most innocent face. Irma seemed pleased with her response and rushed to the bedroom to retrieve her makeup.

* * *

Philadelphia was cloudy and dreary, but the rain that threatened to come wasn't making its appearance. There wasn't a lot of traffic because most of the city was busy working or in school. They visited the Liberty Bell and found only a small crowd and a short waiting time to get a good photo. The Betsy Ross House didn't have much of a line either, and Irma took her time marveling at all the antiques and reading all of the tiny descriptions and factoids. They stopped for lunch around noon inside a diner that was fashioned after the fifties. After that, it was on to more landmarks and tourist attractions for the next two or three hours before they decided to head to the zoo.

Beth double-checked herself at least three times as they found a spot to park. She kept everything ready to go anyway, but she felt paranoid about visiting somewhere she'd never been. The Beretta sat warm and comfortable under her layers of shirts and in its holster beneath her arm, her phone was fully charged and in her pocket, her backpack was stuffed as usual, and her sunglasses were resting atop her head. She'd tucked away her father's pocket watch amongst the wads of money, unwilling to take any chances of losing it or having it pickpocketed. She had already gathered together every small bill she had, as well as a couple of the hundred-dollar bills, and stuffed them into the pocket of her jeans. She didn't want to have to open or rifle through her bag at all while in public, if possible.

Dale and Irma locked up the RV and led the way to the entrance. For a second, Beth worried that there may be metal detectors. Somehow, she'd forgotten that possibility. But it wasn't like she'd leave the gun unattended in the RV either. As they approached the doors, she had decided that she'd fake an illness, if she had to, once they came within view of the zoo entrance. Or she'd just turn around and run. At least she knew she was fast.

But the lobby/gift shop came and went, and then they passed through the doors and the ticket takers… and they walked right into the zoo. There wasn't a single metal detector or beeping wand or handsy guard. Beth realized she'd been holding her breath and let it out in relief just as the bird enclosure was coming into view.

Irma's makeup skills had ended up being way better than Beth expected, and she'd disguised the black eye so well that it wasn't noticeable from more than three inches away. The cut on her lip had mostly healed, but Irma had dabbed a bit of cover-up over it, too, just for safe measure. Beth was happy to see herself in the mirror looking healthy again instead of portraying the definition of a fugitive on the run. And now, as she walked past groups of people of all ages, sizes, and colors, she noticed that none of them were taking a second glance at her. She decided to leave her sunglasses resting atop her head once they'd gotten inside and past the largest groups that were entering and exiting.

Slowly, her heartrate steadied and her breathing calmed, and she felt herself actually _relaxing_ in a public place, surrounded by people she didn't know.

The trio – who probably appeared to be a pair of grandparents taking their granddaughter to the zoo for the day – strolled down the winding sidewalks and decorated paths, stopping at exhibits and following trails that took them through canopies of chirping trees. Irma took at least one photo of every new animal she saw, and of course, she asked Beth to take plenty of photos of her and Dale standing in front of the scenery. Beth made sure to avoid any camera she saw, especially Irma's, hoping to stay out of the corners and edges of zoo photos. Dale cracked jokes and inserted his own fun facts about each animal they marveled at, and Irma gazed at him with sparkling eyes every time. Beth even found herself laughing along with them, as if her life were relatively normal. And for a short time, it was.

They were standing in front of the tiger exhibit, marveling at the gorgeous, orange coats and the paws bigger than their heads. Dale was pointing out a male tiger in the corner to Irma, who leaned in closer to the glass to see. Beth stood a foot or two away from them, watching the tigers stroll and laze about. Her mind started kicking up old memories of zoo trips in Georgia with her family, an almost yearly occurrence from the time she was four until she was thirteen. The tigers had always been her favorite. Her momma had known to head straight to the big cat exhibit once they were finished with giraffes – Beth's other favorite animal at the zoo. Sometimes, the tiny blonde would sit on her daddy's shoulders and gaze out at the zoo from the eyes of a giant as they walked between the array of cages and pens and her momma pointed out koalas in the distance, and loose birds that would fly over their heads in a flash of color. Beth was too young, back then, to notice the scowl Maggie was usually giving her at times like this. It had taken the brunette years to grow out of her jealousy and resentment for Beth, who had been the new baby from a new mommy that she'd never wanted, and Beth could still remember some of the times when it had gotten the worst. She tried not to think of those, though, because Maggie had grown into an extremely protective and caring big sister, especially in the last couple of years since she'd met Glenn.

Plus, now she was paying for _all_ of her sins… as well as Beth's.

The young blonde-turned-brunette had her eyes focused on a momma tiger towards the back, everything else around her seeming to disappear. She was so lost in her own memories and thoughts that she had nearly forgotten she was at a public zoo right now. The heavy, slow tiger was surrounded by its babies, who all looked fairly new. They pounced and played around her while she walked in slow circles, surveying the cubs carefully before picking a comfortable spot and plopping down. She stretched out her long, orange body and lay sprawled between the playing cubs. The look on her face was nothing less than contentment and happiness.

Beth couldn't help but think of her own mother. She missed her more and more every day since she had died, but now that she'd had to leave behind the farm and the rest of her family, the loss was sinking in deeper. Beth felt like she might be cut completely in half at any moment, the pain was so sharp. Tears welled up in her eyes without her even realizing it. She blinked and found her vision turning blurry, the tigers all becoming orange-and-black blobs. She reached up to wipe her eyes dry but remembered the makeup that Irma had spent so long carefully applying, so she moved to turn away from the exhibit and dab at her eyes, away from Dale and Irma so they wouldn't see her and ask what was wrong.

But just as she turned around, her arm – which ended up being outstretched more than she intended – bumped right into someone who was standing nearby. She immediately pulled all her extremities in close and straightened up her back to look into the face of the person she'd nudged.

"I'm so sorry – " she started, finding an average-height black man with long, gray dreadlocks that reached his waist. She had expected some dorky dad in a visor and New Balances, but this man smiled nonetheless and nodded, assuring her it was okay.

He put up a hand, as if to cease her worrying altogether. "No worries. I was standing a little too close. Sorry, I get a little caught up while I'm watching my best friend."

Beth furrowed her brow and knew that he was baiting her into asking about what he meant, but she couldn't help it. He seemed nice enough, anyway. Maybe he just wanted someone to talk to, or maybe he was just naturally an open person.

But the confused look on her face prompted him without words, and he explained with a friendly smile, "I work here, I'm Ezekiel. Sorry, I just noticed that you were getting a little emotional while watching the tigers and I – "

"No, I wasn't," Beth interrupted him, becoming defensive. She could feel her face getting hotter and hotter as she realized he had seen her crying over some fucking zoo tigers. "Something flew into my eye and – "

He put up his hand again, but this time to stop her talking, "It's fine, I didn't mean it that way. We all have emotions, it's nothing to be ashamed of. I just saw you and thought, maybe you understood the connection I feel with these animals. Not many people do. It's nice to see once in a while."

Beth froze and didn't say anything, listening to him intently and letting his words soak in. She nodded in understanding, then glanced over her shoulder to check on Dale and Irma. They had moved just a few more feet away from her, apparently enthralled by the sight of the tigers. She tuned back to Ezekiel and asked him, out of curiosity, "What did you mean, your best friend?"

He smiled knowingly and pointed to the momma tiger that Beth had been watching, then explained, "Right there, that's my best friend. Her name's Shiva. I saved her one day when she had an accident. She had always been difficult, stubborn, untrusting. No one dared go near her, she didn't like humans. Then something happened. We had a bad storm, the power went out, a couple of our enclosures got damaged from the outside, and something had fallen from the ceiling and trapped her leg. I jumped in to help her, without even a second thought. I just did it. She had no one else, I knew no one would be willing to jump in and risk getting mauled. It wasn't even a choice for me. And ever since then, I'm the only one she'll let come near her. She's never tried to harm me, not even once. She even waited for me to come to work before delivering her litter."

Beth's eyebrows rose in surprise at this, and Ezekiel smiled sheepishly when he saw her reaction. "Or at least that's what I like to think. She'd been in labor for a while and hadn't given birth, but she got through it once I came in and saw her."

Beth smiled, the story helping her to forget the memories she'd been dwelling on that were bringing tears to her eyes. She enjoyed listening to Ezekiel talk in his deep voice, and she looked over to the momma tiger again – Shiva. She looked different somehow, now that Beth knew her little secret. The tiger that apparently trusted no one had found someone she could trust, who loved her and cared for her. Yes, she could save herself, and she'd survived without help for years. But then one day, she couldn't. She _required_ someone else's help. And it had come in the form of Ezekiel.

 _What a lucky tiger,_ Beth thought to herself.

"That's a pretty amazing story," she said, staring back into Ezekiel's intense, brown eyes. "You guys should put _that_ on the placard, instead of just those lame facts that everyone already knows."

Ezekiel flashed her a wide, pearly white smile and laughed. "You're so right, young lady. Thank you for visiting us here. I hope the love and empathy you have for animals will remain with you for life."

He nodded at her, signaling that he had to leave, and Beth gave him a small wave. He turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd again. When she turned back, Dale and Irma were watching her, waiting for her to turn and realize that they were about to walk away. She spotted them and jogged over to join the old couple.

Irma put a hand on Beth's shoulder as they walked and said, "I think we're gonna treat ourselves to some ice cream cones. How does that sound?"

Beth smiled, getting farther and farther away from Shiva and the tiger enclosure. "That sounds amazing."

The trio walked back towards the entrance of the zoo, finding the food court they'd been looking for. Dale ordered three ice cream cones from one of the vendors and pulled out his wallet, opening it to retrieve money. But before he could get his fingers on the bills, Beth had already reached into her pocket and pulled out her own money, handing a twenty over to the girl behind the counter. Dale and Irma looked at her in surprise, but Dale grinned.

"I got it," Beth winked at him, and Irma nudged her playfully.

"You don't have to do that," she said.

Beth shrugged as the girl behind the counter retrieved her change and handed it over, placing it in Beth's open palm. "Don't worry about it, it's my treat."

"Well, I should've gotten a triple scoop then," Dale joked, making Irma laugh.

As Beth was taking the last of her change from the ice cream girl, a genuine smile on her face, she moved to shove the change into her pocket when a voice stopped her.

"Is your name Beth?"

Her eyes shot up and stared across the counter at the girl who'd just handed her the money. She could feel her own face draining of color, but the girl remained casual with a slight look of curiosity on her face. She was studying Beth's features, trying to remember where she recognized it from. Beth's eyes shot to the nametag pinned to her shirt: _Dina_. Beth didn't recognize her, but she had a bad feeling that this girl wasn't even from Georgia.

She tried to turn her face away, hide her features and expression. Her short, black hair fell over one eye. "Uh, no? Do I know you?"

Dina shook her head, her lips turning up in an embarrassed smile, "Sorry, I thought you looked familiar. For some reason, I felt like your name was Beth. It's just – your eyes? I don't mean to sound weird, but I just feel like I've seen you somewhere. Your eyes are really memorable."

Beth was fussing with stuffing the bills and coins into her pocket, trying to make it look like her head was turned away because she was distracted, but her brow was furrowing, and she peeked up at the girl from behind her hair. Thankfully, Dina stopped staring at her and was looking nothing less than embarrassed.

"Um, thanks, but I don't know who you're talking about," Beth mumbled, reaching across the counter hastily and taking the ice cream cones from another employee who had approached from behind Dina.

Dina shrugged and muttered, "Sorry. Have a nice day."

Dale and Irma took their cones eagerly and the trio walked away from the stand, finding a table on the other side of the food court, hidden behind some bushes. They sat down and began enjoying their ice cream, but Beth suddenly couldn't taste it. Her tongue felt numb, and she felt like her heart might beat out of her chest.

"What was that about?" Irma finally asked. Unfortunately, she and Dale had both witnessed the odd encounter.

Beth shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but she knew her face was probably still pale and drained. She answered weakly, "I dunno. Weird. I've never even been here before."

She couldn't help but wonder, though… had that girl seen the news? Had she recognized her face from the Wanted picture in the paper? Was it on TV somewhere without her knowing it?

"I think she may have been _flirting_ with you," Dale said, his voice lowered for discretion as he leaned in closer to Beth to speak. "She did say you have _memorable_ eyes."

Beth had to smirk at that, nearly laughing aloud. She snorted instead, seeing the goofy look on Dale's face and the skeptical gaze Irma was giving him. "Yeah, maybe. Too bad I'm not bi."

Now Dale smirked, and Irma giggled as she continued eating her ice cream cone.

But in the back of Beth's head, she was realizing there was still one recognizable feature of herself that she'd forgotten to disguise. And she couldn't afford any slip-ups like this one in New York City.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope you all had wonderful holidays! And I hope this chapter was enjoyable. Thank you for reading and reviewing, I truly appreciate it. Big shoutout to **GracieMae11** for reminding me of Beth's other recognizable feature that I'd almost forgotten about lol so thanks for creating another little dilemma for the fic! :)


	8. i know i can't be free

_**i know i can't be free**_

Dale, Irma, and Beth left the zoo around dusk. They loaded back up into the RV and, with a yawn, Dale declared that they'd be spending another night in Philadelphia since he felt he was too tired to do any driving after the long day they had. Irma agreed and made them all a light dinner. Once they'd parked in a different parking lot, closer to where they'd be heading in the morning, Dale sat down at the booth with the two women to enjoy his dinner. They all ate in silence, too exhausted to talk.

Irma finished first, putting her dishes in the sink and bidding Beth goodnight before retiring behind the curtain of the bedroom. Dale scribbled a couple more answers in his puzzle book as he finished his own dinner, then followed his wife to join her in bed. Within moments, Beth was sitting all alone in the dim light of the RV, surrounded by silence.

She was full with only a few bites of food left, but she pushed the plate away. She pulled out her phone, which she'd resisted checking for the last few hours. She checked the news sources and found nothing new, once again. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Now, she decided, it was time to figure out how to solve the other problem that had been weighing on her mind for the last couple of hours. She opened Google, cross-referencing with Yelp, and started searching for nearby stores that might sell colored contact lenses. There were probably a dozen options, but many of them had closed earlier. It was only Tuesday, after all, so most stores closed around nine or ten at night. Beth glanced at the time and realized it was only nine, so she still had time to track down a store or two.

With two addresses saved in her phone and her backpack full of money, Beth snuck out of the RV while Dale and Irma slept in the back. She didn't make a sound as she slipped out of the door and shut it tight behind her, locking it. Luckily, Dale had forgotten to take back the spare RV key he'd given her, which was now tucked safely into her jeans pocket.

She walked quickly, approaching the street and searching for signs of a taxi she could wave down. A couple of yellow blurs passed by, but the city seemed to be quiet on weeknights. There wasn't a lot of traffic to fight or be wary of, and soon enough, she'd waved down a lone taxi that had spotted her on the sidewalk. She stepped inside the warmth of the cab, telling the driver her destination – which she'd memorized. He began driving her without a word, and she was sure to strap her seatbelt in.

She hadn't ridden in a cab since the last time she and her family had visited Atlanta. Their trips to the city became fewer and farther between as the family operation grew larger and more time consuming. Beth could still remember the day Maggie taught her how to hail a cab – which meant she could avoid the nightmare that was the city bus system.

The cab driver didn't say anything, which made Beth feel a little better. She was already uncomfortable sneaking out at night to find some random stores on her own, she didn't know if she could manage small talk, too. But for some reason, she felt more comfortable in this city than she knew she would in New York. She didn't want to have to navigate her way around a huge, brand-new city while also trying to find another crucial piece to her disguise. It was best to do it now and get it out of the way. Plus, she didn't want to take even the slightest of chances of garnering second glances in the Big Apple. If she were recognized, she'd have to dodge NYC, too. And she really didn't feel like picking a new city to "start over" in.

The first store she got dropped off at was a costume store. She thought it would be her best bet considering its size and wide variety of components for cosplay and Halloween. But once she found her way to the section for eyes and contacts, she realized all they had were strange colors – like red, purple, orange, and an even brighter blue than was humanly possible. There were also dozens of cameras hanging from the ceilings, and she could almost feel the eyes watching her close. She tried to keep her head down, but she didn't want to spend another second inside this heavily surveyed store. She thought about asking an employee to check the back for more colors, but she decided against it and headed for the exit instead.

Once outside, she hailed another cab and headed to the next address she'd memorized. It was another fifteen or twenty minutes away, and she was silently hoping that Dale and Irma hadn't woken up to find her missing. She walked a little quicker across the sidewalk and into the building, entering a large cosmetics store that was open later than most. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized this store only had half the amount of cameras as the first one had.

She weaved her way through the aisles of high-end hair products, styling tools, and makeup palettes. She finally found a shelf with a display of all different colored contacts, and these were actually natural colors. She didn't even glance at the price as she grabbed every case of brown contacts they had available. She was about to walk away when she spotted another display nearby and stopped – contact solution. She grabbed the biggest bottle they had, as well as a small bottle of eye drops, and headed to the counter with her armful of purchases.

The girl behind the counter barely gave Beth a second glance as she rang up her items and placed them inside a plastic bag that bore the store's name on the front. She read the total aloud and Beth handed over a few of the crumpled bills from her pocket. Within minutes, she was standing outside, hailing another cab with the plastic bag held at her side.

She wished the cities were always like this: dark and quiet and most undisturbed. She didn't have the prying eyes of strangers constantly on her, or the large groups of people who could all be from God knows where. And she didn't have to wear her sunglasses, she could just turn her head away or retreat into the shadows, away from curious gazes.

The ride back to the RV felt like an eternity even though it was only about half an hour. Traffic was light and didn't provide much of an obstacle, which Beth was grateful for. She kept praying that the old couple were still sleeping soundly and hadn't noticed the lack of her presence.

The taxi dropped her off right out front of the parking area where the RV resided. She fast-walked through the darkness, heart pounding in anticipation. Just a few more feet and she'd be safe for the night, and then she'd be on her way to New York, where she'd never have blue eyes again.

She was maybe twenty feet from the RV when the sudden sounds of police sirens jolted her, making her jump and spin around to search for the source. Blue and red lights bounced off the bricks of the buildings across the street, and she froze in place. A million thoughts raced through her mind at once, all of them desperate. Was this it? Had they finally tracked her? She never should've left the safety of concealment to make a late-night run for contact lenses. They'd found her, they'd been watching.

But as the sirens got louder and closer, the lights brighter, Beth didn't move. She stood completely motionless, barely daring to breathe, still frozen in place. She could hear the engines of the cars now, could hear them racing down the street less than a block away.

And then they zoomed by. One, two, and then three. They all had their sirens wailing and lights flashing, and they were speeding down the street at least thirty mph over the speed limit. The lights and sounds slowly faded in the distance as they got farther and farther away, but Beth still hadn't moved.

She finally let her breath out, having been holding it for the last thirty seconds or so. Her hands were still shaking. For a second, she wondered how she'd live like this for the rest of her life. Would she always be constantly looking over her shoulder? Was this the price of freedom?

The RV was still dark and silent when she crept inside, shutting and locking the door as quietly as she could. She wished there were a deadbolt she could latch, too, but she knew it made no difference if it was the police coming after her. She laid out her new purchases and found space to stuff them into her bag along with all her other belongings. She would practice putting them in and wearing them tomorrow, but she couldn't let Dale and Irma see – that would be way too many questions to try to make up lies for.

After stripping down, getting a glass of water, and laying out her bed for the night, Beth settled in with her phone and tried to relax. But her muscles were on edge no matter what she did. She checked all the news sources again, as was becoming her routine, and then one more time before deciding to call it a night and make an attempt at some sleep. She thought that assuring herself there was no new updates would ease her mind and help her rest, but it didn't seem to make any difference. She felt as if she were waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was like she had a gut feeling that this case would be so much bigger than she could've ever imagined, and she was just waiting for the rest of the country to catch up.

But what if they never did? What if it faded into obscurity? Could Beth ever feel truly comfortable and safe again? And if she could, was that a good idea? Or was safety just another trap that she had to avoid? What if they found her forty years from now, living under a different name? Could they still prosecute her? Should she just turn herself in and hope to get parole before she became a senior citizen?

Just before sleep finally overtook her, she had tried to imagine what New York City would look like when she got there. She'd seen photos of Times Square at night and she knew the city was beautiful. She'd have water to gaze at all around; maybe she'd get to take a ferry for the first time ever. And in just a couple months, there'd be blankets of snow to turn the city white. But for some reason, she just couldn't picture it in her head.

* * *

The next morning was just as dreary as the previous day. It still hadn't rained, but the trio wasn't sticking around to find out if it would. Once they'd finished breakfast and cleaned up – including Beth taking a quick shower just in case she couldn't take one that night - Dale hopped in the driver's seat and joined all the morning commuters in traffic. It took them a little longer than expected to reach the city limits and finally get onto the freeway, but once they did, they found easy riding the rest of the way. Beth stared out the window at the city behind them as they left it in their wake, the skyline of Philadelphia slowly fading behind the horizon. She wondered, for just a second, if she'd ever be back again.

Dale and Irma planned on taking as many scenic routes as possible, and that included seeing as much of the ocean as they could. Dale veered away from the 95 and towards the coast, finding a beautiful drive that he and Irma marveled at for at least two hours, including seeing parts of the Wharton State Forest before getting to see the coast and the endless waves of water that went out to the east. Beth enjoyed the view, too, but after about an hour, she got tired of it and went back to her phone. It would normally only take two hours, at the most, to reach New York from Philadelphia, but she wasn't expecting to see the city in less than four hours, at the least.

She decided to utilize the time she had before reaching New York and do some research. She began looking into hotels that would be around the area where she'd be parting from Dale and Irma. She realized that Manhattan itself was on the pricier side, and pretty much everything in New York was about five times more expensive than in Georgia. This was another time when she was thankful that Maggie had thought to take all the money from the safe and send it with Beth. She'd be totally fucked if it weren't for those huge wads of cash in her bag.

She researched for a while before settling on a particular hotel, finding that it had the most reasonable rates with the best reviews for its price range. She might be on the run, but she wasn't about to hole up in some roach-infested, bed bug-filled, crack mansion. Especially with this much money at her disposal.

She was checking the news sites once again when Irma interrupted her train of thought by clapping excitedly from where she sat in the passenger's seat up front. Beth looked up to see the "Welcome To Jersey City" sign passing by outside the window.

"Jersey City?" she asked quizzically.

"Gotta pass through to get to Manhattan," Dale informed her from the driver's seat.

"Oh, oh, are we going through the Lincoln Tunnel?" Irma asked, excitement obvious in her voice.

Dale smiled at his wife and her almost child-like wonder. "I was just gonna take the Holland Tunnel, but if you'd prefer the Lincoln Tunnel – your wish is my command, my dear."

Beth felt like she could hear the smile on Irma's face right now, even though she couldn't see it.

"Well that'll take us to right to Times Square, so wouldn't it be better?" Irma added, the map crinkling in her hand as she unfolded it to check her theory.

"And that's why you're my better half," Dale said, shooting a flirty smile in his wife's direction.

Beth turned away and looked back out the window as Irma confirmed that they'd be driving through the Lincoln Tunnel on their way to Times Square. Her heart pounded in her chest as the skyline came into view, buildings and skyscrapers getting taller and taller the closer that she got. This was it. She was almost there.

* * *

Beth had planned to part ways with Dale and Irma almost immediately, but she should've known they'd get sentimental on her. She figured she could put off the contacts just for now. She'd just have to make sure not to look anyone in the face, or risk being recognized in any way. To her pleasant surprise, her black eye was fading away nicely, and the cut on her lip was all but gone. She didn't need to worry about fussing with makeup anymore.

The old couple wanted her to tour Times Square with them, but she explained that she needed to get checked into a hotel before they were all booked. Irma begged her to stay with them a little longer, but Dale eased her off, assuring her that the young woman would be fine and that she needed time to get settled before it was dark. Irma agreed that she didn't want her wandering a new city in the dark, so they decided on a restaurant to have one last lunch at together.

The restaurant was only about ten blocks away from the hotel that Beth was planning on staying at. She got a table in the corner with the old couple and they all settled in, ordering drinks and looking over their menus. As they waited to be served, Dale and Irma chatted about their plans for the day, and for the rest of their cross-country trip, while Beth listened. She was holding her father's pocket watch in her hands, rested in her lap, rubbing her finger over it repeatedly. As the minutes ticked by and she was getting closer to being alone in the city, she got more and more nervous. She could feel the seconds passing by in her palms.

"Nervous?" Dale asked, noticing her fidgeting with the pocket watch.

Beth looked at him for a second, thinking of a lie, but gave up on it quickly. Instead, she just nodded. There was no use trying to act tough in front of these two anyway. A knot formed in her throat. The old man reached across the booth and put a hand on her arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he leaned across the table to speak to her gently.

"Everything will be okay. You're strong. You've gotten this far," he told her. His voice was somehow comforting to her, "This city isn't much different from Atlanta. You'll meet others from Georgia - and maybe from all over the world - you'll make friends, you'll learn new things. Yeah, you'll be scared for a while. Terrified, I bet. And then, one day… you won't."

He leaned back into his seat, pulling his arm back and glancing over at Irma, who was watching him with tears in her eyes. He looked back to Beth and added, with full confidence, "I promise."

Beth could only nod, trying to swallow past the giant knot. Her fingers pressed harder into the firm metal of the pocket watch. She finally found her voice, and it was as if the rest of the restaurant wasn't even there as she spoke to Dale and Irma, "I'm just scared. Really scared. I miss my family. A lot. But I need to be free. I have to be. Or else it was all for nothing. My life will be a total… waste."

Dale nodded in understanding and Irma wiped away a stray tear, saying, "You're free now, honey. No one can hurt you anymore."

She felt a twinge of guilt at the fact that the old couple was still under the impression that she was a battered woman. They were convinced she was the victim, and that the freedom she spoke about wasn't literal freedom from the long arm of the law, but freedom from an abusive ex. She wished more than anything that she could tell them the truth right now. But it wasn't a risk worth taking, and in the long run, her logical side won that argument.

Dale spotted the pocket watch in her lap and gestured towards it, "That your daddy's?"

Surprised at his correct guess, Beth nodded. He went on, "There's a story I heard a while back. Ah, I can't remember the whole thing, but I do remember the most important part: A father gives his son his pocket watch, and when he does, he tells him, 'I give you a mausoleum of all hope and desire which will fit your individual needs, no better than it did mine and my father before me. I give it to you not that you may _remember_ time, but that you may _forget_ it. For a moment, now and then, and not spend all of your breath trying to _conquer_ it.'"

Beth didn't say anything for a moment, letting his words soak in. It sounded like something her daddy would've told her a long time ago. It comforted her, in a way, and her hands stilled around the pocket watch. It continued to tick away the seconds methodically in her hands, but now her heartbeat was steadying. She thought about how much her daddy probably would've liked Dale and Irma, if he'd ever met them.

"Thank you," was all she could think to say. Dale nodded, a knowing look in his eyes that told her that he understood.

Irma spoke up now, her eyes still brimming with tears, "Do you have a phone number? Or an email address? I know we were only together a couple days, but I'll be so worried about you. I just want to know you're gonna be okay."

Beth nodded without a second thought, "I got a phone, I'll give you the number. Are you guys ever coming back here?"

Irma fished around in her purse for a pen and some paper while Dale answered, "Oh, I'm sure we will. Can't say when, we're not really keeping ourselves to any kind of schedule for the next few months, at least. But when we stop by, you'd better make time for us."

Beth smiled at this, taking the pen and paper that Irma handed her and writing down the number to her new smartphone. She wasn't worried about leaving this little piece behind, because not only did she trust this couple, but even if someone did track her down by using them, she could always ditch this phone and its number and no one would have any idea how to find her. Besides, if things went her way, she would ideally be out of the country by the time these two ever came back around to New York.

Irma folded up the paper with Beth's number on it and tucked it into a pocket inside her purse. She wiped at her eyes once again but Beth looked away and pretended she didn't see. The whole situation was breaking her heart in a way she'd never expected it to.

Their food came minutes later and they all devoured their lunches, eating in silence. When the check came, Dale swooped it up before Beth could even reach her hand out. She gave him a playful smile and realized she'd miss this. The whole thing was nice, it was almost like having a family again. Yes, she would miss it. But once again, everything had to be detachable and disposable.

They were sitting at their table, sipping the last of their drinks with empty plates set before them, nothing but scraps remaining of what had been full meals. Irma excused herself to go to the restroom, leaving Dale and Beth alone. Beth had been planning something, although unsure of it. Now that she was alone with Dale, though, she figured if she was going to do it, she'd better do it now. For some reason, she trusted that he wouldn't freak out or become suspicious of her.

She got up from her seat and took the one next to Dale on the other side of the table, scooting in close to him. He eyed her questioningly, waiting for whatever it was she was about to say or show to him. Without a word, she reached discreetly into her bag – which she'd unzipped just a little bit and set on her lap – and blindly grabbed an enveloped that she'd stuffed inside hours earlier. She pulled it out and pressed it into Dale's open hand until his fingers closed around it, then she pulled back and zipped her bag back up. The old man stared down at the envelope in his hand, its contents bulging from inside.

"What's this?" He asked her quietly, carefully turning it in his hand and opening the flap to peek inside. He kept it in the shadows between his lap and the table, peering down ever so cautiously.

Beth watched his face and recognized the moment that he realized it was a rather thick stack of hundred-dollar bills in his hand. His eyes widened in an almost comical expression and he slapped his other hand over the envelope, concealing its contents from anyone who may be nearby. He looked at Beth, completely flustered, eyes wild.

"Where did you get this?" he hissed.

Beth shook her head and leaned in to answer, having thought up a lie to tell him, "I got an inheritance. Just… trust me. I have plenty of funds to help me start my new life, I didn't leave Georgia with no money to my name. I wanted to repay you guys – you deserve it. You saved my ass. Just take it and don't tell Irma until you're far away from here, okay? She'll try to return it but I don't want it back."

Dale's mouth had fallen open and his eyes were still wide as saucers as he stared at Beth, a million questions on the tip of his tongue. All he could say was, "Inheritance… Okay. Well… thank you."

Beth looked over her shoulder to see that Irma was on her way back from the bathroom. She turned back to Dale and added casually, "Your spare key is in there, too. I forgot to return it the other day."

She hopped up from the seat and went back to her own on the other side of the table. Dale had just finished stuffing the envelope into his pocket when Irma arrived at the table, taking her seat once again. She hadn't noticed the exchange at all, but her face was full of dread. Beth felt a stab of guilt. A part of her wished she could just travel the country with these two forever, but she wasn't going to put them in danger of being caught with her.

"Well, I suppose we'd better… head out," she said, sighing sadly.

"I'll walk you guys to the end of the block," Beth said, trying to make Irma feel better. But she knew that nothing she could say would make her feel any better. Beth would probably feel guilty for days.

They all walked together out of the restaurant and down the sidewalk, Dale trying to make small talk about the city to a disinterested Irma. The old woman finally grabbed Beth's hand in hers and squeezed it, walking the rest of the way down the block like that. Beth didn't resist or try to pull away. She thought she might've needed this almost as much as Irma did.

When they got to the corner, they stepped aside so as not to block any of the crowds of people trying to walk along the sidewalk and cross the street. Irma pulled Beth in for a tight hug, holding onto her for at least a solid minute.

"Please be careful. Do you have mace or a knife or anything?" She began asking, face full of worry.

"Yes, I have – mace. _And_ a knife. Don't worry, I can take care of myself," Beth assured her, almost slipping up and telling her that she had a gun. But she was afraid that saying that would cause her to worry even more.

"Okay, good. You have enough money? We can give you some, it'd be no problem. You can't be skipping meals, or sleeping in dangerous places," the old woman continued.

Beth shook her head and refused, "No, I'm fine. I promise I have plenty to get me by, I don't need any help. Thank you, though. I won't be missing any meals or sleepin' in alleys."

Irma's eyes were full of tears but she smiled anyway. "Okay. I'll text you tonight to make sure you're safe and sheltered. You'll tell me if you're not? We'll be in the city all night, we can always come back and get you."

Her worry was making Beth worry, which she didn't need right now. But it was also reminding her of the kind of love that a mother would have for her. This woman was worrying about her as if she were her own daughter, and they'd only known each other for three days. It made Beth want to cry and break down. But she didn't.

"Okay, I'll be waiting for your text. And then you can call me, too, if you'd like," she assured Irma.

Dale sighed as his wife wiped away more tears, trying not to break down and cry. Beth had a feeling that he was getting pretty bummed out by the farewell.

"She'll be fine, Irma," he told her. "She's a smart girl, she knows better. She'll make friends, and she'll find people who will care about her and look out for her like we did. Let the poor girl go, she's got a busy day ahead."

Irma nodded, knowing her husband was right, and pulled Beth in for another tight hug. She cried into Beth's shoulder a little bit, but finally pulled herself away and nodded, giving Beth a final pat on the arms before stepping back. She sniffled, "You be good, Rosie. Promise me."

Beth smiled. "I'll be _great_. I promise." She paused and pushed back the tears that were threatening to brew up, "Thank you guys. For everything. I can never explain to you how much it means to me."

They finally said their last goodbyes and waved to each other, Dale and Irma crossing the street and heading toward Times Square while Beth went in the opposite direction, back toward the restaurant they'd just come from. She could still hear Irma sobbing. She continued walking, heading for the hotel that she intended on sleeping in.

The guilt hung heavy inside her chest, and she couldn't get the image of Irma's crying face out of her head. But she knew they'd be okay. Eventually, they'd forget about her, and maybe they'd think of her from time to time and wonder where she was and what she was doing. But she wouldn't ever hurt them. And that was the most important part.

She was glad she could give Dale the money she'd wanted them to have without too many questions, thinking of how happy the two of them would be with an envelope full of tens of thousands of dollars on their road trip of America. She almost wished she could be there to see the looks on their faces when they found the other twenty grand she'd hidden inside the silverware drawer.

* * *

New York City was not friendly. Not that Beth had expected it to be, but she was realizing why people said the things they did about this city. She was catcalled at least twice on her ten-block walk, and at least four other people nearly bumped into her or made her trip. She was glad to see that she was mostly invisible here, but she definitely didn't want to stay out on the streets any longer than necessary.

The hotel was a moderate-level chain business, a bright Vacancy sign lit up below their large sign that read _The Americana Inn_. The building looked like nearly every other building that lined the street – tall, thin, made of brick, and wedged between a hundred other businesses. A few people walked in and out, but for the most part, it seemed undisturbed. Beth took a deep breath and readied herself as she approached the doors, taking the sunglasses off her face to rest them atop her head. She straightened her shirt and gripped the straps of her backpack.

Walking in, the hotel had the scent of potpourri in the air. The lobby was fairly small and there were stairs on either side, as well as an elevator in the distance. Beth approached the counter and the woman who stood behind it, a tall, middle-aged woman with long, dirty blonde hair and bright green eyes. Her nametag read: _Allison_.

Beth made a point not to look around at the ceiling for the cameras, hoping to avoid any full-face shots. Instead, she looked straight ahead at the hotel clerk, who raised her head from what she'd been doing and greeted Beth with a smile.

"What can I do for you today?"

"I need a room for one, please," Beth said, forcing out her softest and most innocent voice.

The woman looked her up and down for just a split-second, then said, "Okay, can I just get your ID?"

 _Shit,_ Beth thought. _Shit shit shit. No fuckin' way._

"Oh, uh, I – I lost my purse the other day, I don't have my ID," she explained, quickly adding, "But I have cash."

The hotel clerk's face dropped a little, her eyes losing interest. "Oh, no, I need some form of photo identification to book you a room. Do you have a passport, maybe? Are you a student, maybe you have a student ID?"

Beth's stomach dropped. "No, I-I told you, I lost my purse, I lost _everything_ , I don't have any ID." Her innocent voice was gone as the frustration shown through, "I don't care how much it is, I have cash, can't I just get a room? Just for tonight?"

Allison leaned back just the slightest bit, but enough for Beth to notice. She began putting up her own defenses, and her tone grew sharper. "No, I'm sorry, miss, that's the policy. I can't just book a room under some anonymous name. We need to have your information on file for the system to even work."

Beth knew she was getting too worked up and that she shouldn't have snapped, but it was frustrating. She'd come so far just to hit a wall. She had been so sure – so _naïve_ – that large amounts of money would get her anywhere she needed to go.

"Can't I just give you my name and address?" She attempted.

Allison shook her head, the annoyance on her face getting more evident. "No, you could just give me anybody's name and address and I'd have no proof. I'm sorry, that's just the policy."

Beth sighed and shook her head, defeated. She backed away from the counter and mumbled, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, it's just – been a long day."

The hotel clerk nodded, but she was watching Beth skeptically.

 _She must see crazies like me every day. She probably thinks I'm just another New York City bum or something,_ Beth thought.

"Sorry. Thanks anyway," she muttered, turning and walking back toward the front doors.

The walk felt endless, and she couldn't get out of that hotel fast enough. She could feel the hotel clerk's eyes on her back the whole time.

 _Please don't remember me, please don't tell anyone about me, please just forget me,_ Beth prayed inside her head, repeating it over and over until she had gotten two blocks away from the hotel.

Her heart was racing and her stomach was turning. She thought she might be sick. She kept walking, unsure of where she was heading. She needed to find somewhere that didn't require ID for her to check in. Then she needed to find someone who could get her a fake ID. She needed some sort of identification if she was going to do anything in this city, and she was kicking herself for not realizing that sooner.

Not that she'd ever actually use it because, well, obvious reasons, but she was picturing her real driver's license and birth certificate and social security card, all tucked into their own safe, little pockets in her real wallet back home, on the farm. She'd been so proud when she finally passed her driving test and got her driver's license, and even more proud when she turned eighteen. And in her own personal experience, she'd never actually lost a purse or wallet, and she'd always had some form of identification for herself. But all those things were probably in an evidence room in Atlanta.

They had all the proof that Beth Greene exists, they just didn't have Beth Greene.

 _And they never fucking will_ , she told herself, spotting a Starbucks on a corner across the street and heading for it.

She ordered an iced coffee and sat down at one of the small tables outside. Another woman was sitting at a nearby table, smoking a cigarette and sipping a coffee, but she wasn't even looking in Beth's direction because all of her attention was focused on the phone sitting in her lap. Beth sipped her coffee and tried to calm herself, pulling out her phone and looking up nearby motels. At this point, she'd take bed bugs over nothing.

Having a semblance of a plan, as well as the coffee, seemed to steady her nerves for the moment. She scrolled through the options of motels, clicking on each one and investigating it. Some of them listed their criteria for checking in – _must have valid photo ID, no pets, no Discover, no Groupon accepted._ Her eyes searched up and down, heart jumping a little each time she found a possibility. But there were only a few that didn't clearly state that they required photo ID, and she decided to call them to check before spending precious daylight walking there or taking a cab.

The first one had an Asian man with a thick accent answer the phone, and when she asked if they needed photo ID to get a room, he said, very loudly, "Yes! Valid photo ID _required_!"

Beth thanked him for his time and hung up, sighing in defeat. She repeated the process for the next motel that hadn't stated it in their criteria. But once again, it was a very firm no. The next three proved the same results, and Beth quickly realized that she was out of options.

 _Fuck_ , she thought, typing in her very last resort on the smartphone: _craigslist dot org_.

The site popped up and she chose New York City, then narrowed the results to the neighborhoods around Manhattan. If she couldn't find anything trustworthy, she'd move on to other areas. But for now, she put in a search for a room for rent for one person, hopefully with only one roommate that she'd have to keep her real identity from. She didn't bother narrowing the price results, knowing that the money she had would get her whatever she needed. At least until she could figure something else out. Now she just had to cross her fingers that whoever she found wouldn't want to see some form of identification to prove she was who she said.

The results were limited, but promising. The first on the list was a young couple looking for a roommate to help cover the rising rent. They had a dog and a baby on the way, but an entire spare bedroom that needed to be filled. Beth bookmarked their ad for later, but went back to the results.

The next ad was an old woman looking for someone to help with a third of the rent and also do all the housework that she wasn't able to do anymore. She had three cats and who knows how many litter boxes, but it sounded like she could keel over dead any day and then Beth would have more police to answer to. She went back to the results and clicked the next option.

This one was an old man who had his two teenage grandkids living with him. He needed help covering the rent – apparently gentrification was hitting this area hard – and couldn't balance a full-time job as well as two teenagers and housework. The whole situation sounded like a giant mess and Beth clicked back to the results page.

The next result she clicked was two women in their early twenties looking for a roommate. Once again, they couldn't quite cover the rent on their own. They were "420 friendly" and allergic to dogs, but Beth thought that sounded like a heap of trouble. Two women around her age? They'd be poking and prodding into every personal detail she had until she snapped. Plus, who knows how many friends they had coming in and out of the apartment every day. No way.

Beth was starting to think that she'd have to set up a meeting with the young soon-to-be parents as she absent-mindedly clicked on the next result, not expecting to find anything hopeful. But as she read the ad, her heart leapt, and she searched for the link to contact the author.

 _ **Clean, quiet, responsible roommate wanted**_ _  
2 bedroom/1 bath apartment on the 3rd floor, E 32nd St in the East Village, $1500/month  
32-year-old male looking for a CLEAN and QUIET roommate who is RESPONSIBLE and can pay rent on time, clean up after themselves, and respect my house rules. I am a single dad taking care of my 3-year-old son, I work full-time and we have a very strict schedule. No drugs, no parties, no pets (kid is allergic). If you don't like living with kids, don't respond. I am not home most of the day but my babysitter is in and out all day with the kid.  
All of this is non-negotiable. First & last month's rent plus deposit is needed, but we may be able to work out a payment plan if necessary. Depends on how I feel about you.  
SERIOUS INQUIRIES ONLY_

Beth realized she needed an email address in order to reply, so she quickly created one and sent an email to the address that the ad gave her. She wrote:

 _I am a 21-year-old female who just moved to the city and I need somewhere to live for the next 6 months or so (maybe less). I don't do drugs, I don't party, and I clean really well. I can also cook. I honestly don't even really leave the house. I'm really good with kids, I used to babysit when I was younger. I can pay you in cash, if that's okay. Please respond and let me know. I can meet you today, if you'd like, so you can decide how you feel about me. –Rosie_

She read and reread what she'd just typed out on her phone's small screen, hoping she didn't sound weird or suspicious. She pressed Send with a tentative finger and held her breath as the email went out into the world and headed for the man who wrote the ad.

She liked that he sounded straight-forward and almost business-like. She didn't want a friend or a new family, she just needed somewhere to stay until she could get some form of identification and make her next move. And this guy almost sounded as paranoid as she was. Maybe that would be a good thing, and if she left him alone, he'd leave her alone. Maybe she could actually lay low in New York City and be _safe_ for a while.

She had tried her best to sound as normal and innocent as possible. She didn't want to mention where she was from, just in case he got any ideas about doing some sort of background check or Google search. Yes, she changed her age – she thought, _Hell, if I'm gonna be an age that isn't my own, it might as well be a good one._ And yeah, she had fibbed a little about babysitting when she was younger – she'd only really done it for a few months when she was thirteen, until her daddy decided it wasn't safe having strangers visiting the farm so often. But she had always had a natural instinct with babies. They loved her and she loved them. And this guy seemed like he had a strict set of rules in place, which she was more than happy to abide by. At this point, she'd become his own personal nanny if it meant she'd get a safe place to sleep and stay out of the public eye. And unless he saw her in the Georgia news somehow, he'd never figure out that she wasn't actually twenty-one.

She was draining the last drops of her iced coffee, staring thoughtfully at the surrounding buildings, when a notification popped up on her phone. It startled her for a moment, having never received any kind of notification on this phone before. But when she realized it was an email from the guy with the apartment, she hurriedly clicked it and read the message:

 _Rosie,  
Sounds good. We can negotiate the cash thing. Not sure you'd have quite enough to cover all the rent and deposit. We can meet when I get off work. There's a McDonald's on the corner of E 96th and 2nd Ave, it's next to a Dunkin' Donuts and a Subway. 6 o'clock. Don't be late. –D_

D? Just D. She wondered what D could stand for. Darren? Donald? Dwight? Maybe another Dale? It didn't matter either way. She had to meet this guy and pray that he'd give her a place to sleep tonight, or else she might be sleeping in this Starbucks. She had about two hours to get to E 96th and 2nd Ave.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks to **arrowsandangels** for pointing out that you actually can't get colored contacts without a prescription - so that's a small inconsistency in the story that I just want everyone to be aware of when reading this (very) fictional piece of work :)

* * *

 **A/N:** Yes, Daryl will be here next chapter! :) We finally made it to the actual Bethyl, y'all lmao sorry it took so many chapters but I hope you're enjoying the ride. As always, let me know what you think and tell me if you think there's something important I'm forgetting.  
Chapter edited on 12/29/17: I'm still doing my research on NYC because I'm a dumbass and wrote a fic based in a city that I've never been to ;)


	9. but those people keep a movin'

_**but those people keep a movin'**_

Beth finished her iced coffee and dumped the cup in the trash, heading back inside the Starbucks to use the restroom before she started on her way to meet the mysterious "D." She was happy to find a single-stall bathroom with a lock on the door handle so she could have some privacy. After emptying her bladder and washing her hands, she busted out the new contact lenses and solution.

It took several minutes of reading the directions and trying to get herself used to the feeling of sticking something against her eyeball, but after about a dozen tries, she managed to get them to stick. They moved a bit and settled, and finally, she blinked away the last of the tears and felt herself adjusting to the new contacts. They didn't change her vision at all, but when she looked at herself in the mirror, it shocked her a bit. Seeing her big, round eyes turn from blue to brown in a matter of minutes was an odd thing to get used to. She had grown so accustomed to seeing her momma's eyes staring back at her from the mirror.

Now she was a brunette with brown eyes. She'd never noticed before how much she actually looked like Maggie, but now it was hard to miss. Her hair was only a shade or two darker than her big sister's, but the eyes were spot-on. It was almost like she'd never had blue eyes at all.

She practiced smiling at herself in the mirror, trying to imagine it would be the man who called himself "D." She had no idea what to expect, but she tried to prepare nonetheless. Even her best smile seemed forced right now, and she tried to speak with confidence, "Hi, I'm Rosie." But her words wavered and she was afraid this man would immediately know she was lying about everything.

What if he was a cop? Shit, she hadn't even thought of that possibility. He worked a lot, wasn't home until evening, had a strict schedule… he could easily be some sort of police.

Well, she figured, she'd just have to ask that question within the first few minutes so she could bail if he was. Hopefully he wouldn't recognize her before she could get away.

Just as she was thinking about an escape plan for the meeting, a loud knock came from the door.

"Just a minute," Beth called, quickly gathering her things and stuffing them all back into her bag. She zipped it and latched it and strapped it to her back securely before unlocking the bathroom door and slipping out. She nearly bumped into a middle-aged woman, the alleged knocker, on her way out, but she didn't look up or make any acknowledgement, heading straight for the front door instead.

Once she was out on the sidewalk, she slipped her sunglasses back on and hailed a cab. The streets were packed with cars, and she was realizing that between the time she'd sat down at the Starbucks and now, people had gotten out of work and school and were all commuting at the same time. She held her arm out for a good few minutes before a cab was even able to reach her.

Once inside, it took twice as long as it should've to reach her destination. They practically crawled down each street, and intersections kept them waiting at the same red light for at least three cycles. Beth took the time to observe her surroundings and start getting to know them. She was thankful that Manhattan was a nice area, for the most part. She hoped the East Village was just as nice. And with a price tag so high that two people couldn't afford rent on their own, she figured it had to be at least decent.

The cab stopped at another red light just a block or two away from the McDonald's that Beth was going to. She waited a moment or two, but when she realized that they weren't moving any time soon, she paid the driver and got out by the street. She hurried onto the sidewalk and began her walk down to the fast food restaurant.

This McDonald's had no drive-thru, unlike every other McDonald's Beth had ever seen before. It was small and tucked in between a couple other businesses, including a bank and a Dunkin' Donuts. Beth spotted the Subway that "D" had mentioned, too. She double-checked the street sign just to assure herself, then headed inside the small establishment.

The smell of grease and French fries permeated the air. There were a couple of school-age kids standing in line at the counter, ordering. An old man sat at a table in the far corner, drinking coffee and reading the paper. Beth turned her face away from him.

There were a couple other people in the restaurant, a small family and an old couple, sitting at tables against the wall. Beth tried not to make eye contact with anyone, knowing that it was only 5:45 and "D" wouldn't be here yet. Instead, she stood in line and waited to get to the counter and place her order.

She ordered a medium coffee and took it to a table in the corner, on the opposite side of the room as the old man with the newspaper. She kept her head low and turned away from the front door, sipping her coffee and checking her pocket watch every minute or so. She would glance over her shoulder every three to five minutes, just to check the front door for any sign of the man who might be "D." But everyone who was in the establishment already either looked way too young or way too old to be thirty-two.

She still had at least five minutes to kill before he'd probably even show up, so Beth pulled out her phone and started checking the news sources just to pass time. She was happy to at least know that she didn't have to worry about any updates right now. She turned her head to check the door again, realizing that it was six o'clock exactly. But she quickly found that her view was clouded by someone standing directly behind her, their hand held out as they were in the middle of reaching out to get her attention when she'd turned around.

"Oh – sorry," came a gruff, male voice. The figure that was seemingly composed of only black leather and cloth quickly backed up to reveal that it was a man… and he looked about thirty-two years old.

"Oh," Beth looked up into his eyes in surprise, finding deep blue orbs nearly hidden behind dark, straggly hair. "I didn't see you there, I'm – "

"Rosie?" He reached his hand out as he studied her, looking Beth up and down.

She quickly stood up and reached out her own hand to take his, shaking it politely. He was taller than her and wearing dirty jeans, black boots, a plaid shirt, and a black, leather motorcycle jacket. His hair was shaggy, but still groomed, stopping just past his ears. He had a trimmed goatee and moustache and the hints of a patchy 5 o'clock shadow along his jawline and cheeks. He was holding a motorcycle helmet in one hand, rested against his thigh. He looked down at her almost skeptically, but he seemed more cautious than unkind – at least from her first impression. He almost reminded her of when you'd first meet a new dog and they'd want to sniff your hand and make sure you were okay before letting you touch them. He flinched away from her in just the slightest bit, as if shaking hands were still a new custom he was getting used to, and she noticed it, even though it was only a split-second. His body language was subtle but Beth observed every little movement.

 _Good,_ she thought. _I'd love to live with someone who's as paranoid as me._

She started, "Yeah, that's me. Are you – "

"Daryl," he finished for her, nodding. "Nice to meet ya."

He gestured to the seat across from where she'd been sitting, giving Beth a questioning look. She nodded in assurance and he sat down, resting the helmet in his lap. She sat back down as well, pocket watch gripped in her hand beneath the table, hidden so that Daryl couldn't see it. Her knuckles were turning white.

"Nice to meet you, too," she said, smiling and praying to God she didn't look like a lunatic right now. Her practiced smiles in the mirror had not been good.

She must not have looked too crazy, because Daryl actually gave her a shy smile before clearing his throat and speaking again, "So, about the apartment. Obviously, you read my ad, so you know I have rules that you'll have to respect. I dunno if you got a job or if you got some money to get ya by or what, but if you have the cash, I'd like to get the fifteen hundred plus the seven-fifty for deposit. We can talk about the last month's rent later, when you can afford it. And we can give it a couple days, if ya don't wanna stay, ya take your money back and I'll just prorate based on how long you stayed and keep that much, and we call it even. What d'ya think?"

Beth was surprised at how prepared he'd been to get straight to business, but then she wasn't sure what else she expected. Now that she was meeting him face-to-face, she could tell he wasn't the kind of guy to make small talk. She nodded hesitantly, reaching over and putting a hand on her bag, which sat directly next to her.

"Actually, I can pay you the first, last, and deposit all right now. If you want," she said, speaking a little more quietly.

His eyebrows rose in surprise, voice lowered, "You got that kinda cash on ya, princess?"

She furrowed her brow, holding back a scowl. _Princess? He doesn't even know me._

"How much is it for deposit again?" she asked, unzipping the bag just enough to fit her hand inside and grab the envelope that she'd put together in the cab on her way here. The envelope bulged with thirty hundred-dollar bills inside. She placed her hand on it, ready to pull it out and hand it over once he decided to take her seriously.

He had smirked at her playfully, but now it was fading. He studied her carefully, searching her face for clues. She stared back at him with equal solemnity, features unwavering. The paper of the envelope crinkled between her fingers.

"Seven-fifty. So that would be thirty-seven-fifty altogether," he finally answered her, in all seriousness. "And we can't put that on a credit card."

She smirked and rolled her eyes, pulling the envelope from the backpack and sliding it across the tabletop. He reached his hands out and grabbed it, pulling it closer. She then reached back into the depths of the bag, going by feel to find eight more hundred-dollar bills. When she had them, she folded them up and handed them over to Daryl in her fist, letting his own hand graze hers as he took the bills from her palm. Then, to her great pleasure, she watched with a stoic expression as he tried to discreetly look through the envelope full of cash, as well as the other bills in his hand. His expression was nothing less than nonplussed.

All he could seem to choke out from his disbelief was, "What the…?"

Beth's smirk disappeared and she quickly replied, "Inheritance. And you can keep the change."

He remained dumbfounded for a moment, looking back at Beth and then to the money in his hand. But then he shrugged, stuffed the extra bills into the envelope, and shoved the envelope into his jacket pocket.

"Alright then. You got a hotel room or somethin' ya need to stop by to get your stuff?" He asked, standing up as if readying to leave.

Beth was a bit surprised, having expected a longer conversation and more questions. However, if this was what he would be like, she thought maybe the less they talked, the better. Besides, she couldn't tell him a whole lot without having to come up with some elaborate lies and then remember those elaborate lies so she could keep up with them later on.

"No, uh – just this. I'm ready to go, but I can get a cab there, if you want," she said, standing as well and putting her backpack on. She was assuming he'd ridden here on a bike of some kind, judging by the helmet in his hand.

He shrugged again, seeming very indifferent about the whole situation. It was like he was being asked "paper or plastic" rather than "can I live with you for an undetermined amount of time." He gestured to the door, where Beth could see a black motorcycle parked by the street just outside the front of the McDonald's.

"Well, if that's really all ya got, I can give ya a ride," he said. "Hope you're good with bikes, though."

She glanced at Daryl and then back outside at the bike again. She hesitated. She'd never ridden on the back of a motorcycle before. Her daddy never would've let her near one, in all honesty.

But that was Beth back in Georgia. Now she was Rosie in New York City, and she didn't know much about Rosie, but she knew that she'd be down to ride on the back of a bike any day. And if she were being completely honest, Daryl wasn't the _worst_ guy she could be seen with on a motorcycle – he certainly wasn't ugly.

She looked at him again, wondering if she should go with him. Then she remembered the one vital question she should've asked him the minute he shook her hand.

"What d'you do for a living?"

The question seemed to be out of nowhere and sudden, but Beth had simply forgotten to ask once she'd come face-to-face with this intimidating, older man. She didn't get an authoritative vibe from him, but she didn't quite trust her instincts that much yet.

He gave her a quizzical look, but she didn't break his stare, assuring him that she was serious. He answered, "I work in a motorcycle shop, mostly repairin' them, sometimes buildin' 'em. Why?"

"Oh," was all she could think to say. She swallowed a nervous knot that was forming in her throat. "That's it?"

He quirked his eyebrows at her, and she didn't think he could seem any more confused by everything about her than he did now. He nodded anyway, speaking slowly and somewhat suspiciously, "And… I teach self-defense classes on the weekend… Is that enough for ya?"

She felt the heat rising to her cheeks and shook her head quickly, breaking eye contact and glancing towards the front door again for no real reason. She shrugged, trying to play it off as a casual question, "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I was just curious."

He continued staring at her even though she wasn't making eye contact anymore, and he lowered his voice and said, "What'd yer boyfriend do?"

She finally looked back into his eyes, giving him a questioning look. "What?"

He repeated himself, "What'd yer boyfriend do? Fer a living?"

The corner of her lip turned up just slightly as she tried to figure out what he was talking about. "What does that have to do with anythin'?"

"That black eye's almost gone. Figured you were askin' me what I do 'cause yer afraid of livin' with somebody who's just like the guy who did _that_ to ya," he explained, pointing to her eye. He said it as if it were completely logical and anyone else would've come to the same conclusion. "Do I remind you of him or somethin'?"

At this, Beth turned her face away from Daryl and looked at the floor so that he couldn't fully see her bruised eye, feeling embarrassed for reasons she couldn't explain. She wasn't sure how she should answer his question, since he was partially right, but not even close to the whole truth. Her mind started racing with how many different directions she could take this in, and how many different lies she could tell him. She wondered if she should start weaving her web so soon. But then again, if this was the most he talked to her, she would probably be fine with just a couple of lies. She had to have some kind of foundation for Rosie, after all. She thought of the things she told Dale and Irma – or let them believe.

She finally nodded, deciding to go with his assumption. She looked up at him with the most innocent expression she could muster, pushing every ounce of "victim" she had inside her up into her eyes, boring them deep into Daryl's. She spoke quietly, trying to sound hesitant and a little fearful without sounding forced, "Yeah… He was a cop."

She looked away from him again as soon as the words came out, hoping to add to the dramatic effect. She could almost feel the pity pouring off him. He grunted.

"Don't worry, I ain't no cop," he said gruffly, lowering his voice. "Cops are bastards."

She raised her eyes again to meet his and was surprised to find that he wasn't actually looking at her with pity or sympathy, but something closer to empathy – mostly apathy, though. In the few minutes she'd known him, the largest impression she'd gotten was that he didn't care about much at all if it didn't directly affect him. She could respect that.

"Is that your mantra?" She asked, trying to change the subject and tone of the conversation. She stood from her seat, leaving the empty coffee cup on the table and shoving the pocket watch deep into her jeans pocket.

He shrugged, "One of 'em. Ready t'go see the place?"

Beth nodded, throwing her bag onto her back. "Ready when you are."

Daryl led the way out the front doors and to the bike parked by the street. He opened a small compartment beneath the seat and pulled out a spare helmet, handing it to Beth. He then proceeded to put his own helmet on and straddle the bike, putting in the keys and bringing it to life. Beth struggled with the helmet for a moment, hoping he wasn't watching her and noticing how much trouble she was having. But she finally untangled the straps and slipped it over her head – having shoved her sunglasses into her backpack – and fastened the strap so it stayed secure.

"What kinda bike is this?" She asked, speaking loudly over the sound of the motor as she mounted the seat directly behind Daryl.

"Eh, a little bit of everything," he replied, checking his mirrors. "Built it myself with a bunch of different parts. Cheaper that way."

Beth was surprised but impressed. She looked down at the bike a little closer now, unable to even tell that it wasn't straight out of a factory. But then again, she didn't know shit about motorcycles.

"Alright, put yer arms around me and hold on tight," he told her. "You ever ridden one of these before?"

"No," she told him, putting her arms around his middle until she could clasp her hands together. She tried to keep a comfortable distance between them, but it was just about impossible, and she couldn't help but notice that he smelled like leather, engine grease, and some kind of cologne she'd never smelled before. It gave her a little flutter in her stomach, but she tried to ignore it.

 _Stupid natural girl reactions,_ she told herself. _It's just cologne, try to keep yourself dry here._

But the fact of the matter was, she hadn't been this close to a male who wasn't related to her in weeks. And she hadn't even had time to think of any of her other primal needs besides food, water, and shelter – and by shelter, she meant anywhere that didn't have cells and guards. Now, being this close to a moderately attractive man who smelled _really_ good, it was getting kind of hard to forget that other primal need.

Daryl revved the bike to really bring it to life, slowly pulling away from the curb and out into the street. He hunched over just slightly while merging with traffic, and Beth's arms tightened around him. He didn't seem to mind, if he even noticed, because he acted as if she weren't even there. He sped up here and there, taking turns when he could, weaving between cars and in and out of lanes. He seemed to know all the least populated streets, because he was taking a horribly confusing route through the city, but he was finding a surprisingly small amount of traffic in his way. They only waited at a couple of stoplights, and once or twice, Daryl was actually able to speed up past the limit.

Beth shivered at the vibrations beneath her, reveling in how they got stronger each time Daryl sped up. The buildings, businesses, and cars around them sped by in colored blurs, and she only caught a couple of street names. Within minutes, she had no idea where they were or where they were going, but their meeting spot seemed to have been a pretty long distance from the apartment. She had only ever heard of the East Village in movies and a couple TV shows, so she didn't really have any idea what to expect.

Her heart raced every time Daryl sped up or took a sharp turn, and she wondered if he could feel it beating against his back, because she was sure it was about to beat right out of her chest. The bike was thrilling – wind on her face, passing cars left and right, zipping down the streets like they were invincible, all the streets turned to red and black and green blurs. But she couldn't ignore the way her breasts were pressed against his back, even though she tried her hardest to keep a small space between them. It was nearly impossible on this thing, though.

They rode through the Upper East Side, according to a sign, and Beth realized she'd heard of this place, too. She only got glances of the expensive homes and classy establishments and foreign cars. Yeah, this place was definitely expensive.

But the foreign cars gradually stopped appearing and the expensive houses turned to cramped apartments and shared homes. The area was still nice, but not high class. Beth kept her eyes peeled for signs and landmarks and was finally able to tell that they'd entered the East Village, if it hadn't been obvious already.

It felt like they'd only been riding for maybe ten minutes when Daryl started slowing down, approaching a street that was lined on either side with houses and apartments, all squeezed in next to each other. There were trees along the sidewalk, providing shade to the stoops on the front of each door. A couple of people wandered about outside, one of them walking a dog on a leash, but it was mostly quiet. Cars were parked in nearly every spot along the sides of the street, and Beth was starting to understand why Daryl chose his mode of transportation.

He pulled in carefully to an empty spot on the side of the street, parking the bike with precision before turning it off. The sudden quiet was jarring, and Beth's ears were still ringing. She climbed off the bike, trying her hardest not to fall as she stepped onto the curb and walked forward. Her head was on a swivel, looking around and taking in all of her surroundings. There was a Starbucks that she could see down the street on the corner, and across the street from that was a dentist who specialized in braces placed next to a brunch bar. Down the other end of the street, she could just make out the sign for some sort of dry cleaners in the distance, across the street from a Trader Joe's. All the apartments and houses were indistinguishable, though – they were all so close together, they looked like they could've just been one big building that was painted differently by sections. Some of them had stairs leading down from the sidewalk into a door at basement level, while others had steps leading up to a door.

"Pretty good area. Most of the stores are within walking distance, so ya don't really gotta worry about takin' the subway or the bus or whatever," Daryl said casually, taking his helmet off and leading the way up the sidewalk to a brick building that looked older than the other buildings on the block. There were AC units sticking out of half the windows, and the front entrance was at ground level. A couple of the window sills had plants, while others had black stains from the AC leakage.

Beth looked up to the top floor – there were only 3 stories – and tried to guess which window belonged to Daryl's apartment. Or rather, _Rosie_ _and_ Daryl's apartment. She followed him inside, descending six or seven small steps into a quiet lobby area that was in need of a good mopping. Six large, square, locked mailboxes took up the left wall, while a reception desk sat in the corner at the far side with a woman behind it, talking on the phone. Directly ahead was a large doorway that led to a wide set of stairs. They headed straight for it.

The girl behind the desk came into clearer view as Beth got closer, following Daryl from a couple of feet behind. She gave the pair a friendly smile and Daryl waved a hello to her as he passed. She had shoulder length, curly, black hair and olive skin, and her features boasted all of the most envied characteristics of her mixed Asian and African heritage. She wore a nametag that Beth glanced at as she passed, which read: _Clementine_. When she realized that Clementine was staring at her, as well, she looked away quickly and stared at Daryl's back instead, hoping the girl hadn't gotten a very good look at her face. And if she had, she hoped the contacts were helping her to become unrecognizable.

The pair trekked up the first set of stairs to find a hallway with one door on each side. They passed the hallway and followed the second set of stairs that stood directly next to it. The next floor was nearly identical and they took the third flight of stairs up to the final floor, where they finally went down the hallway and stopped at the heavy, black door on the left, which was labelled 3A. The other door was labelled 3B. Beth was breathing a little heavier than normal from the climb, but Daryl seemed unfazed.

"No elevator?" She panted.

He shook his head, pulling a set of keys from his pocket and fiddling with them.

"Must've been a bitch to move in," she commented, gazing around the brightly lit hallway. She had been searching the ceilings and upper corners for cameras since she stepped inside the building, but luckily, she hadn't seen a single one yet.

Daryl grunted, but in a way that it sounded more like a half chuckle, "Yeah. It was."

He unlocked the door and pushed it open, retrieving his keys again and stepping inside. He held the door open and motioned for Beth to step forward. She did so, cautiously, while looking around the inside of the apartment. It was small, but spacious at the same time. It didn't look or feel cramped, and the carpet and walls were done in baby blues and eggshell whites, giving the room a soft glow as the afternoon sun poured in through the cream-colored curtains that hung over the square windows. Beth was taken aback – this wasn't at all the apartment she'd expected once she'd met Daryl and talked to him for five minutes.

She took a few more steps inside and got out of the way so Daryl could close the door behind her. He gave a lazy wave towards the general area of the apartment, reminding Beth of a drunken Vanna White.

"Well, this is it," he told her plainly, slipping off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack behind the door. "Whaddya think?"

She continued looking around, almost unable to stop her head from swiveling in every direction at this point. The apartment was spotless, which was something else she hadn't exactly expected. To her right was the living space, open and arranged neatly so that it was easy to walk around. A couch sat turned away from the front door, facing a large, flat, HD television on the wall across from it. It was a huge, corner couch that went into the corner of the room and wrapped around to the other wall. There was a dark wood coffee table in the space between the two. There were no living chairs, but with the size of the couch, Beth figured he probably didn't need any. There was a bookcase sitting against the wall a few feet away from the TV, and hung from every wall were pictures in frames, mostly of Daryl and a baby boy. Aside from the photos, the only evidence that a child lived here was the toy box sitting next to the bookcase. And in the corner, a few feet from that, was a small dining table with two dining chairs. To the left of the front door was the kitchen area, separated by a bar that came out from the wall to the left and stopped at the hallway that sat next to the kitchen. The kitchen was small, but plenty big enough for two people, and the floor changed from baby blue carpet to white tile at the border of the bar.

"It's beautiful," Beth said in complete honesty, finally looking at Daryl to see his expression. It was unchanged.

He motioned for her to follow him and she did. He led her to the hallway, which revealed two doors to the right and one door on the end. He opened the first door on the right, which exposed a square, bare room that was painted and carpeted identical to the living room and hall. It didn't have any windows, but it did have a queen-sized bed in the far left corner, which was already made up with a bedspread and an arrangement of pillows. Sitting next to it was a nightstand that held a lamp and a digital alarm clock. In the right corner, directly next to the door, was a small dresser. And in the far right corner was a desk with a cheap, black office chair. The only decoration that hung on any of the room's walls was a shiny crucifix hanging directly above the nightstand. It was no bigger than Beth's head, but it reminded her of the larger one that hung in her own dining room back at home. Or at least, it used to.

"This has been the guest room, but I ain't ever got guests so I figured that was just money bein' wasted," he explained as she stepped inside and looked around the room. "It was all my ex's shit, still pretty nice but I don't wanna sell it."

Beth smiled as she looked around, finding herself genuinely excited about something for the first time since everything had happened. More than anything, she was eager to have her own space and some form of privacy. She looked back at Daryl, who was toeing the threshold as if he didn't like being in this room.

"It's perfect," she told him, smiling. He glanced up at her but looked away quickly. She took one more look around the room before stepping back into the hallway and following Daryl to the second door a few feet down.

The door was already open, and Daryl merely gestured toward it and said, "That's the bathroom. I don't take long to get ready so don't worry about hoggin' it. The kid might need to go, though. He ain't very good at bladder control yet. Especially number two."

Beth raised her eyebrows and stifled a laugh, nodding in understanding as she glanced inside the bathroom. "Got it."

It was a moderately sized bathroom, probably not big enough to comfortably fit two people at once. The bathtub was large, and the shower head looked nice – which was something Beth always worried about in a strange place. There was a small amount of counter space and a pair of towels hung from the rack on the wall. One of them was a plain, black towel, while the other was a fluffy, red, child's towel decorated with pictures of the superhero, Ant-Man. And sitting directly across the toilet was a small, plastic, child's potty chair.

From the bathroom, Beth followed Daryl to the final door on the end, which he pushed open to let her see that it was his and his child's bedroom.

"And this is our room. I usually keep the door closed, but it has to be open if the kid's awake in here," he explained.

The carpeting and paint were all the same, and he had a bed, nightstand, and dresser that were similar to the ones in the guest room in the left half of the room. There was a solitary window in the middle of the wall across from the door that looked out onto the street in front of the building. But to the right was a drastic difference. There was a bright red car-shaped child's bed, its bedspread and pillows decorated with more pictures of Ant-Man. There was a small nightstand sitting next to it, which held an array of jars that appeared to hold different kinds of leaves and rocks. The walls were covered in crayon drawings, posters of bugs, posters of Ant-Man, and one polaroid photo that Beth couldn't quite see from where she stood. In the area next to the door and in front of the child's bed, countless toys were laid out on the floor, but they didn't look to be left out accidentally – they were all arranged into scenes and carefully organized. Beth stared at it quizzically for a moment.

Daryl must've noticed her looking, because he commented, "Yeah, he thinks they all need jobs to do when he's not here. So I let him keep 'em out. Otherwise, he keeps his shit picked up, so ya won't be steppin' on any Legos while you're tryin' to take a piss in the middle of the night."

Beth smirked and nodded in understanding. "Wow, he seems like a… an interesting kid. Where is he?"

"Most interesting I've ever known," Daryl confirmed. "He's next door with the babysitter. I told her I'd be a little late since I was meetin' with you. If ya want, you can go do whatever in your new room and I'll go get the kid so he can meet you."

"Your neighbor is your babysitter?" Beth asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, why?"

She shrugged, realizing it _was_ an odd question. But she was just a little set back by this new information, realizing that this meant there'd be another set of prying eyes trying to watch her every move and probably wondering who she was and what her story was. It was one thing to have a babysitter who picked the kid up and dropped him off, or stopped by from nine to five, but this woman lived right next door and would be basically unavoidable. She'd start to question Beth eventually and the chances were slim that she was as apathetic as Daryl.

"No reason," she said, and turned away from him to head into her new room. He followed her cue and headed for the front door.

She set her bag on top of the dresser for the moment, knowing she shouldn't get comfortable just yet as Daryl and his son were expected back at any moment. But the bed looked terribly inviting. She untied and kicked off her boots, letting them fall to rest on the floor next to the dresser. Then she plopped onto the bed, letting herself get swallowed up by the mattress. It felt like it hadn't been slept in in ages, and judging by what Daryl had said, it hadn't been. But it was soft and warm and inviting and Beth was so grateful to finally have her own bed to sleep in. She'd never realized how much she had taken the luxury of a bed for granted.

A few minutes passed and Beth was close to dozing off. The sun was beginning to go down and it set a hazy glow about the entire apartment, barely lighting the bedroom at all. Only the faintest sounds of the city could be heard from inside the walls of the apartment. Beth could feel consciousness slipping away as all her worries floated up and out of her body and her muscles relaxed against the bed.

The sound of the front door opening and closing jolted her back to reality and the sleepiness fled her body as soon as it'd come. She could hear Daryl's voice accompanied by a child's voice as they rustled around in the living room. She stood up from the bed and stretched, walking to the doorway and peeking out into the living room. Daryl was standing by the front door, slipping a backpack off of a small boy who only came up to Daryl's knees. He was skinny and had a head full of straight, bright blond hair, and the same skin complexion as Daryl.

"…and-and, and then we made um, we made cookies, and uh, and-and she let me um, she let me lick the spoon," the little boy was in the midst of a compelling tale, his father nodding along and "mm-hmm"ing when needed.

Daryl glanced over at Beth's doorway to see her standing there, waiting. He gestured for her to come over and she did, approaching the small boy tentatively. For a moment, she wondered how much this kid could remember and recite and just how safe she'd be letting him meet her. But then she reminded herself that he was too young to be in school and the only people he probably talked to were his father and his neighbor and she probably didn't need to be _that_ paranoid.

"Hey, bud," Daryl said, nudging his son and diverting his attention away from the endless story he'd been telling. "You wanna meet our new roommate?"

He looked up at his dad with excitement and curiosity, nodding eagerly. Daryl gestured towards Beth, and the toddler turned around and looked up, straight into Beth's eyes. She looked back down at him and smiled as politely as she could. He had the brightest blue eyes she'd ever seen in her life. They reminded her of her daddy's.

"Hi!" He said, waving enthusiastically with a grin on his face.

"Hi!" Beth waved back, her smile turning to a grin.

"Malachi, this is Rosie. She's gonna be livin' with us for a while in the spare room," Daryl explained.

"Nice ta-to meet um, you, Rosie," Malachi said, clearly struggling to remember the exact manners he'd been taught. His tiny formality made Beth's heart flutter – he was definitely one of the cutest kids she'd ever met.

"Nice to meet you, too, Malachi," she said, squatting down until she was level with him and holding out her hand. Almost immediately, he grabbed it and shook it, his hand tiny in her palm.

"How old are you?" He asked her without hesitation, his eyes studying her face.

"I'm twenty-one," she replied, asking in return, "How old are _you_?"

The little blond boy held up three fingers. "I'm three. But um, I'll be – I'll be _four_ in um, in three months!"

Beth raised her eyebrows, glancing up at Daryl as he added from behind Malachi, "Now it's only two months, buddy."

The small boy's eyes grew wider, and he turned to glance up at his dad before looking back to Beth and saying, "I'll be four in _two_ _monfs_!"

Beth grinned and nodded, "Wow! You're gettin' really big! When's your birthday?"

Malachi stopped and thought for a second, his eyes drifting upward momentarily before they lit up with realization, "November fif!"

"Yes, November fifth," Daryl muttered, his lips cocked upward in a proud half-smile.

"Wow, a Scorpio! Well you just get more and more interesting," Beth joked.

Malachi looked at her questioningly, "What's a Scorcho?"

Beth chuckled and told him, "That's a conversation for another day."

Daryl grunted and spoke up to remind his son, "You hungry? We need to have some dinner, it's gettin' late. Gonna be bedtime soon."

The toddler's eyes lit up again, and he turned to his father with an excited glee on his face. "Yeah! What we havin'?!"

Beth stood back up and watched the pair wander into the kitchen and go over the options of food, deciding together what they would have. Malachi insisted on chocolate chip pancakes but Daryl was able to persuade him into Spaghetti-O's and a small side of broccoli with cheese. As he prepared the dinner for his toddler, he glanced back at Beth.

"You want somethin'? There's food in the fridge and freezer and cabinets, you can help yourself," he told her as Malachi pulled on his pant leg while trying to tell him another story. "Just don't touch the pig's feet. Those're mine."

Beth quirked an eyebrow, "Don't worry, they're all yours. I think I'm okay tonight, I had a big lunch. I'm just gonna settle into my room." In reality, her nerves were still settling from such a drastic change that she had no appetite whatsoever.

Daryl nodded, microwaving the canned pasta before moving to the freezer to retrieve the frozen broccoli. "Sounds good. Uh, our schedule's 'bout the same all week. Kid usually wakes up about six-thirty, we have breakfast an' get ready, then I drop him off next door and go to work. I usually get home 'bout six, pick the kid up, have dinner, watch some TV or read a book, his bedtime is no later than eight. So I guess the place is all yours from seven-thirty or eight till six. Weekends are a different story, but we'll figure that out when we come to it."

Beth nodded, "Okay, that sounds great. Do you have a spare key I can have while I'm here?"

"Yeah, I'll leave it on the counter in the mornin'. I gotta remember where I put it," he told her.

He directed Malachi to go prepare the table for dinner, who obeyed and ran to the table with silverware and napkins in hand. Beth stood awkwardly in place for a moment, unsure of what to say next. Should she say _goodnight_? Just turn around and walk away silently? She wasn't sure.

But then, as if to solve her problem for her, Daryl spoke up, "So I noticed yer accent. You from the south?"

 _Shit,_ she thought. _The accent._

She didn't answer for a second or two, her mind racing with a million thoughts in that tiny time frame. The accent… the _accent_. Of course. How had she not noticed it sooner? Well, she had, but it had gone right over her head because of the familiarity. Now that she was thinking back on Daryl's words and the way he spoke, she recognized his accent – southern. Where could he be from? Surely not Georgia. What were the odds? And why had she let herself be so unobservant? She'd become so accustomed to southern accents – between her own, her family's, and nearly everyone's she'd ever known, all the way to Dale and Irma's own southern accents, and now Daryl's. She'd noticed the New York accents that she had begun overhearing and encountering, but somehow, she'd blocked out the sounds that had become so familiar to her. And because of that, she'd ignored the way that Daryl's words tilted and slurred, the way his jaw moved lazily about his contractions; she'd completely looked past the drawl in his voice and hadn't even given it a second thought. What if he _was_ from Georgia? Did he keep up on the news? What if he'd heard of her family, or had some sort of distant connection to them? Everything would be ruined. She'd have to flee… _far_.

But for now, she had to think of a lie, and fast. This time, she'd have to divert from what she had originally told Dale and Irma. Preferably, no one in New York City would ever know that Beth was actually from Georgia. She replied, "Yeah, Alabama. You?"

"Georgia," he replied as he poured melted cheese over the steaming broccoli.

Beth's heart jumped and she could almost feel her blood running cold. "Oh, what part?"

Somehow she was able to speak clearly and sound normal, but inside, she was completely freaking out.

"Around Atlanta. Grew up out in the boonies, but I think my brother still lives around there, maybe in the city," he said.

 _Fuck fuck fuck_ , she thought. _Okay, I'm just gonna make this about him so he doesn't ask me anything else about Alabama: the place I've visited all of three times._

"Oh, you don't talk to him?" She asked, praying she sounded as casual as intended.

He shrugged from across the kitchen, "Nah, he's into some stupid shit. I got outta that a long time ago. He should probably be in prison, in all honesty."

Beth was a little surprised at his explanation, but also a little relieved. Maybe he hated Georgia so much that he wanted nothing to do with it, including keeping up on its current events. And hopefully, his brother would stay way over there forever – hopefully in prison, if what Daryl said was true.

"Oh, wow. I'm – uh, sorry to hear that," she muttered, unsure of what was appropriate to say in this situation.

She watched him shrug, but before he could say anything else, Malachi was racing back into the kitchen eagerly. He happily announced to his father that he'd set the table _just right_ and that he would _really_ like some ice cream after he ate _all_ his broccoli. Daryl agreed with him, but only on the terms that he would, in fact, eat _all_ of his broccoli – _and all_ of his Spaghetti-O's.

Malachi turned around to see Beth still standing in the same spot, and he seemed to remember that he had tons of unanswered questions for her. He stepped closer and looked up at her with wonder, randomly spouting, "Um, who's yer dad?"

Beth furrowed her brow, genuinely confused by this question but also slightly amused. The toddler was bursting with unanswered questions, and every time he spoke, you could hear all his racing thoughts trying to get out at once. He was still figuring out how to share his fully formed ideas and how to get the words to come out slowly and accurately, but Beth could tell he was smart for his age. She tried not to take it too seriously, but it certainly reminded her of the things she was trying to put out of her mind for the time being. An image of her daddy sitting in a jail cell flashed through her head for a split-second. But just as quickly, she thought up a lie.

"He's – um, he – " she was about to say _died_ , but then she glanced at Daryl and saw his expression and was suddenly unsure if he'd explained the concept of life and death to his son, or even attempted it. But his parenting style and his son's understanding of mortality was none of her business, so she changed her lie at the last minute and said, "He got taken away from us."

 _Fuck, that's accurate,_ she thought to herself as soon as it came out.

Malachi looked confused for a second and another question was forming in his mind, but before he could ask it, Daryl was nudging him from behind to get his attention –and, Beth noticed, to distract him from the conversation. He then handed Malachi a plastic cup full of juice, which the toddler carried very carefully from the kitchen to the small dining table. Daryl began heading for the table, plate in hand.

"I swear I can cook, I'm just tired tonight," he said, and Beth got the sense that he was purposely changing the subject and trying to avoid what his son had said entirely.

She made her best attempt at a warm smile and said, "No need to explain to me. I believe you."

He shrugged, setting down his kid's plate on the table and making sure Malachi was seated comfortably in his chair with a napkin ready before letting him dig into his meal. "Just sayin'. I'm not one of those dads that just feeds his kids microwave meals an' eats the same shit every night."

He headed back to the kitchen and opened the freezer to pull out a frozen dinner for one. Beth smirked.

"I wouldn't expect much more from a single dad, honestly. I mean, at least he's eatin', right?" She was trying to be as friendly as possible, hoping to get on his good side and earn as much of his trust as possible while she stayed with him. The more he trusted her, the less he'd suspect her – and _hopefully_ , the less he'd want to know about her.

"Yeah, not everybody thinks like us," he muttered, shoving his frozen dinner into the microwave.

Beth hesitated by the kitchen, watching Daryl prepare his dinner while Malachi sat at the table a few feet away, feeding himself – messily, but getting the job done nonetheless.

"Um, Dad, um, so today, uh, Carol said that um…" Malachi began telling another story from his seat as his father prepared to sit down and dine with him. Daryl looked over at Beth and she nodded at him, an unspoken 'goodnight,' before turning and heading back into her bedroom.

She turned on the overhead light and shut the door behind her, finding the room dark and calm now that the sun was setting outside and the bedroom was shut off from the rest of the world. She could still hear Daryl and Malachi's muffled voices from the living room, but she couldn't make out their words.

Her bag was still sitting on the dresser, undisturbed and unneeded for the time being. She glanced at it apprehensively, a strong desire to dump its contents out completely onto the floor and count every single bill for the first time since fleeing the farm. But tonight, a larger part of her wanted to pretend it wasn't there and try to forget her whole situation – just for a night, just so she could relax and sleep soundly in this big, comfortable bed for a solid eight hours. Maybe twelve.

Beth turned on the lamp that sat on the nightstand and turned off the overhead light, then stripped off her socks, pants, jacket, and shirt. When she got to the undershirt that held her gun, she pulled the Beretta out carefully and set it on the bed, then pulled off the shirt and tossed it on the pile with the rest of her clothes. Finally, she took off her bra, reveling in the free and relaxed feeling that she'd been craving at night for the last few days. She was so used to sleeping with nearly nothing on at home that now it was a luxury she had always taken for granted, much like having a bed of her own. She carefully tucked the gun under her pillow, then her daddy's pocket watch. Then she pulled back the comforter and crawled underneath it, her body sinking into the mattress once again.

She was exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. She looked at the digital alarm clock and saw that it was only 7:32. It had probably been years since she'd even tried to go to bed this early, but tonight, she was taking advantage. Her smartphone was on the nightstand, and she reached over to grab it and begin checking the news sources.

For the most part, her shoulders felt lighter. Aside from the stressful questions and coincidences she'd encountered with Daryl and his son, she felt noticeably more relaxed and at ease. She knew that she should continue being on edge and constantly paranoid, but it was kind of hard when you were exhausted in a way that no amount of sleep could cure. Nevertheless, she continued with her nightly routine of assuring herself that the entire nation wasn't becoming aware of her crimes.

The national news sources were still void of any mention of the Greene name or their drug farm. A breath of relief later and she was back to the Georgia news – she checked this one first because it had been the only source that posted her case as its very top headlining story. And unfortunately tonight, her story was right back at the top… with brand new details and photos.

 _When the fuck did this happen?!_ She thought, immediately clicking the headline that read: _UPDATED: 18-year-old Wanted in Murder of Officer After Major Drug Bust_.

She checked the timestamp and realized it had been updated merely an hour ago, when she was busy with meeting Daryl and his son and finding her new home for the next few months. Her heart was racing in her chest, and the comforter that lay over her was becoming too hot to bear. Her eyes skimmed past the half of the article she'd already read, jumping straight to the two paragraphs' worth of brand new information that had been added:

 _August 30, 6:24 PM: Authorities have released the name of the officer killed Saturday night in a major drug bust outside of Atlanta, as well as the name of the officer critically injured, who remains in a coma. The deceased officer has been identified as Detective Shane Walsh, 36, of Atlanta, Georgia. Walsh leaves behind a mother, father, and grandmother, all of Atlanta. His partner, Detective Rick Grimes, 38, also of Atlanta, suffered blunt force trauma and remains in a coma at Harrison Memorial Hospital, in stable condition. Det. Grimes has a wife, Lori Grimes, and young son, Carl._

 _Police have yet to find any clues pointing to the whereabouts of the young Beth Greene. Numerous tips have been reported via the CrimeStoppers line, but no leads have been successful. Authorities are not releasing any more information at this time due to the investigation. Alleged drug lords Hershel Greene, Maggie Greene-Rhee, and Glenn Rhee remain in police custody as more suspected accomplices to the Greene Farm are interrogated. Police ask that all citizens stay aware and observant, and remain mindful that Greene is armed and dangerous. She was last seen heading north or northeast of Senoia on Saturday night. She is known to be travelling alone and may have altered her appearance in some way. She is also known to be carrying a black bag with an unknown amount of cash and possible family heirlooms. If you or someone you know may have any tips that could help authorities locate her, please call the number below immediately. Updates will be posted as information is released._

Below the article were two photos of Detective Walsh and Detective Grimes, and Beth recognized them immediately from the night at the farm. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at the photo, stared into the dark eyes of the olive-skinned man she'd shot right in the chest. And then she looked over the photo of the other man, and the scene of Maggie smashing a heavy lamp over his head as hard as she could played over and over in her mind's eye. Below the photos was a toll-free number in large, bold print, reminding the public to call authorities with any information they might have. But the numbers began to get blurry and indiscernible, and Beth realized her eyes were filling with tears. She couldn't bring herself to check the Atlanta news site, afraid of what more she might learn.

 _Shane Walsh,_ she thought silently, tossing her phone onto the other side of the bed so she could get herself to stop staring at the photos on the screen. _I killed Shane Walsh. Detective Walsh. And Maggie put Rick Grimes into a coma. Detective Grimes… Detective Rick Grimes, who has a wife and a kid and - if what that cop back in Ila said was right - another kid on the way. Two families' lives completely changed because of what I chose to do in a stupid, selfish, split-second decision._

For the next four hours, the phone sat undisturbed on the other side of the bed while Beth lay completely still beneath the comforter. She stared up at the ceiling, seeing without seeing, repeating the names of the two men over and over in her head. Her mind raced, her heart raced, her stomach twisted and turned, cold sweat poured down her neck and soaked the pillow beneath her. It wasn't until she finally rolled over and tried to close her eyes that she realized the wetness on her pillow wasn't just cold sweat – it was also the tears that had been pouring from her eyes without her even noticing.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Another HUUUUUUGE shout-out and thank you to **GracieMae11** for giving me insight and educating me on NYC. She helped me figure out that Daryl would live in the East Village, so YAY! Oh, and I posted two photos to accompany this chapter. You can find them on AO3, where this story is cross-posted (I'm under the same pen name on archiveofourown dot org) and the photos are posted on the ninth chapter. One is a photo of the outside of Daryl's apartment and the other is a drawing I did of a VERY ROUGH floor plan for his apartment. And yes, the Clementine in this chapter is the same Clementine from the TWD video game. I love her! Anyway, I hope this meeting between these new versions of Beth and Daryl was satisfying. If it wasn't, I'd still love to hear your thoughts! Let me know what y'all think and have a happy new year! :)


	10. and that's what tortures me

_**and that's what tortures me**_

 _Beth could feel the summer breeze on her skin. It was the middle of May and the weather in Georgia was beautiful. The sky was blue and cloudless and sunlight poured into the old barn through all the slats and spaces. The familiar sounds of the farm drifted in from all around her._

 _The big, barn door was open just a crack, and Otis was standing directly in front of it, watching for anyone unwelcome who might try to enter the barn. He was a big, burly man, solid but soft at the same time. Beth had known him and his wife for nearly her entire life, he was the same as family. His eyes watched the scene before him, emotionless and dark._

 _Beth stood just a few feet away from him, watching the same scene from a safe distance. The energy in the barn was high – everyone was anxious, angry,_ _ **vengeful**_ _. It pulsed through the air like electricity. Beth felt sick. But she couldn't look away – wasn't allowed to look away. She had to see this. Needed to see it. Had to know what it would feel like._

 _Her daddy's eyes were wild and full of tears, but ablaze with anger. His beard was messy and ungroomed, his clothes stained with dirt and God knows what. All Beth could see when she looked at him was the absence of her momma. Now more than ever: he had a man, no older than twenty-five, lying face-down on the barn floor, hay and dirt sticking to his tear-streaked face as he cried for mercy. Her daddy was screaming at him, slapping him, holding a very large knife to the man's neck._

 _Her daddy was ruthless. He was merciless. He didn't flinch for a second. He was the unbound, untamed, dangerous version of himself that Beth had never seen until her momma and Shawn died. Now he was unstoppable._

 _Not even Glenn could stop him. Beth stared as her brother-in-law held the young man down on the ground, knee in his back, gripping the man's arms so tight that they were turning red. He was putting all his body weight into the man's back, assuring that he couldn't get up, couldn't move away. Not even when Hershel grabbed his left arm and held the knife against it._

 _Glenn's face seemed blank, mostly focused on holding the man to the ground. Beth searched his eyes for some sort of clue, but he didn't look happy. He didn't look angry. He didn't look sad. He didn't look like anything. He just looked like he was doing his job, or doing something that he knew had to be done._

 _Otis's wife, Patricia, was standing on the other side of the barn, in front of the other door, watching from afar. But even from this distance, Beth could see her looking away and gazing at the ground instead._

 _Maggie stood just feet behind Glenn. She was silent. She stared, just like Beth was. This comforted Beth in a way, but not enough to matter. She knew they had reached another level that they could never escape from._

 _Standing mere feet away from the blade being held against the young man's hand was Beth's cousin, Arnold. He was no older than the man on the ground. His face looked pale as he watched what was happening, seemingly just as frozen as Beth and Maggie._

 _Beth knew that the young man's name was Randall. But she only knew this because her daddy had screamed it about twenty times by now._

 _Randall looked scared. No – terrified. Beth watched him, saw how he struggled beneath Glenn, how he looked around him for help from time to time, his eyes pleading with Arnold. He begged Hershel to understand, apologized profusely until his blood, tears, and spit were making a pool on the ground beneath him. But Hershel kept screaming, his voice booming through the barn and shaking Beth to her very core._

" _Randall, you took from me something that you will never understand – something you will never_ _ **HAVE**_ _, boy!" His voice was righteous, angry, confident, and terrified all at the same time. His grip tightened on Randall's arm, and his hand swung the large, sharp knife around wildly and with intent. "This isn't about business anymore! This isn't about your precious dope or your precious dollars! My family is_ _ **BROKEN**_ _because of you! My poor Annette, my boy, Shawn – my girls lost their mother! Their only brother! Do you have any_ _ **IDEA**_ _\- ?!""_

 _Beth could swear she could see the literal fire inside her father's eyes. He was a madman let loose. He was a widower taking vengeance for his wife's stolen life. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice, despite the fact that Randall continued to beg and plead and squirm before him._

" _Please, please, I-I'm sorry, he told me to – "_

 _Randall's weak, fearful voice made no difference to Hershel. The old man leaned down closer to his hostage, voice low and deep yet echoing at the same time. He spoke with finality and justification. His words held a million possibilities – all of them ending badly for Randall._

" _Randall, I don't care who told you to do what," Hershel said, eyes staring down at the young man with condemnation. "You've crossed the wrong man. You think you've seen my wrath? You ain't seen_ _ **nothing**_ _."_

 _In a way that Beth didn't want to admit, this felt justified. She'd watched her daddy for the last month, grieving and raging and obsessing over finding the person who was responsible for killing his wife and son. And now he'd found him. The police may never bring the killers to justice, but he could._

 _Or at least, one of them. There was still another man out there, the one who'd actually done the stabbing. Beth knew what he looked like. She'd never forget it, no matter how much time passed. But he was keeping himself hidden well. He was a coward – someone who snuck into a home at night to murder under the guise of darkness and then ran away from the consequences._

 _Beth also remembered Randall. Maybe that was why she didn't find herself feeling too bad for him as she watched him get his face pressed into the dirty ground once more. She had watched him shove her mother to the ground. Watched him direct his friend to turn the knife on her once he was finished with Shawn. She'd seen the malicious glint in his eye as he helped murder half her family._

 _Maybe that was why she didn't even flinch when her daddy finally sliced his skin wide open with the sharp, shiny blade. Nor did she turn away or close her eyes as the blade cut deeper and deeper, and Randall's screams got louder and louder._

 _But her daddy's voice stayed the same level, the same calmness, even as he sliced through muscles and tendons and spoke over the screaming, "You think this is bad, Randall? You have yet to see the wrath of God… And I pray I'm there the day that you do."_

 _The screams became bloodcurdling, bouncing off the barn walls. But the noise didn't bother her. The only sound that made her wince was when the blade reached bone. She didn't blink as she watched her father dig in deeper, putting his weight into cutting through the hard bone. It felt like an eternity had passed before he got through the whole thing._

 _The screams stopped before the flesh had disconnected – Randall passed out, his body going limp beneath Glenn's clutch. Randall's left hand made a fleshy 'thump' when it hit the ground. Her daddy's hand was still gripping the stump of an arm. Blood seeped from the wound, pooling on the barn floor and spreading outwards. The blood-soaked knife was shaking in Hershel's other hand._

" _Daddy…"_

 _Maggie's voice was nothing more than a whisper, but it was louder than the screams had been in Beth's ears. She looked over at her sister to see the blank expression on Maggie's face as she stared at their father. Glenn had let go of Randall, letting his body fall to rest on the floor, an unconscious heap. He didn't look up, didn't move, just stood there over the bleeding body. No one seemed to be looking at Beth or Maggie or Glenn. They all stared at Hershel. At the pool of blood that was slowly growing on the barn floor. At the stump of an arm that was either the end of something big or the beginning of something much, much bigger – and worse._

 _Hershel raised his head and looked at his daughters: first Maggie, then Beth. He looked down at Randall, sighing. He looked back up, staring ahead at Maggie. His face glistened with sweat and tears._

 _His voice was quiet and soft again, a bit hoarse, but he sounded both terrified and confident when he said, "What I wouldn't do to keep you two safe."_

 _The police never did figure out what happened to Randall. Neither did Beth. She knew her father didn't kill him, but someone probably did. Personally, she never saw him again after that day in the barn. Nor did she want to._

* * *

Beth's eyes flew open and she gasped for air, the reality of being awake taking a couple of seconds to settle in. Her chest was tight and her throat was sore. She'd been jolted awake by something in a dream, but as soon as she remembered where she was, she had forgotten the dream entirely. She didn't understand why she was so breathless – had she been holding her breath in her sleep? Maybe it had been a dream about drowning. She felt like she'd been held underwater for a solid minute, and her face was wet enough to match. The tears and sweat from just a couple of hours ago had finally dried, but there were fresh tears on her face that had been pouring out while she slept. She must've been crying while she dreamt, although she couldn't explain why. She wiped her face dry with the comforter and threw it off of her body, letting the cool air hit her bare skin. Her hands slid beneath her pillow to assure that the gun and pocket watch were still in their normal spots.

As she blinked away the sleep, she realized her eyes were burning and beginning to water even more. She blinked rapidly, rubbing at her eyes. It took a moment for her to remember that she'd gone to bed with the contacts still in – she'd already forgotten about them. Now they hurt like hell. She'd have to get to the bathroom and get them out, but she needed to put on clothes first.

The bedroom was just as dark and silent as it had been when she'd finally drifted off. She didn't know how many hours she had laid here, but she'd only been asleep for a short time. She glanced over at the alarm clock to see a blurry 3:44 displayed. She reached over and turned on the lamp that sat on the nightstand, then crawled out of bed and went to her bag, which still sat on the dresser. She dug around inside and pulled out the eye drops and all the clothes she'd bought, picking out a pair of gray lounging pants and a baggy, white T-shirt. She pulled open the top drawer of the dresser and tossed in the rest of the clothes, blinking away tears the whole time.

She threw on the pants and shirt and ventured out into the hallway with eye drops in hand, finding the rest of the apartment nearly as dark as her bedroom. She was grateful that the bathroom was mere feet away from her door as she tiptoed across the carpet, glancing at the closed bedroom door at the end of the hall. She got inside the bathroom and shut the door quietly, switching on the light.

Standing in front of the sink and trying to squint through tears to see in the mirror, Beth struggled to remove the contacts from her eyes. When she finally did, she found immediate relief. Her eyes still burned a little, but it was beginning to go away. She tossed the contacts into the small trash can on the floor, then squirted a few eye drops into her bloodshot eyes. She blinked away the excess and let it run down her cheeks before turning on the tap. She leaned over the sink and splashed cool water onto her face, the sensation sending relief through her body. For a moment, she stood in place, face dripping with water over the sink as she stared down at her upturned wrists.

There was a faint, white line on her left wrist. It had healed well, but it was still there, and sometimes she thought she could feel it aching. But it was probably just her imagination. It was always there. A reminder from over a year ago - before she'd even lost her mother. She wanted to laugh at herself for even contemplating suicide back then, when things weren't nearly as bad as they would get. It was getting fainter and lighter with each passing month, but it still mocked her. She tried to use it as motivation to never let herself get that weak again. She told herself she survived, she made it, and now, she _escaped_. It all had to be worth something in the end.

She patted her face dry with the guest towel and opened the door, moving to step outside and turn off the light behind her. But she was stopped in her tracks by Daryl, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Beth yelped, calming when she realized who it was.

"Oh – sorry," she whispered, seeing the groggy look on Daryl's face and immediately feeling bad.

He shook his head, waving her away and stepping past her to get into the bathroom. She took a hint and left, closing the door behind her but leaving the light on. She wanted to run back to her room and hide, but she was really thirsty and had planned on visiting the kitchen before attempting to go back to bed. She glanced in the direction of Daryl and Malachi's bedroom again, seeing that it was still dark and the door was still closed. It was so quiet in the apartment that she could hear Daryl peeing _a lot_ inside the bathroom. She tried to ignore it as she wandered into the kitchen.

There was a dim nightlight on above the stove that gave just enough light in the kitchen that Beth could find her way around to get a glass of water. She took a long, refreshing gulp, then began her way back to the bedroom. But Daryl appeared again, exiting the bathroom and walking in her direction. She wondered why he wasn't going back to bed, but then she figured he must be thirsty, too, so she planned on remaining silent. Surprisingly, he stopped and spoke to her.

"Can't sleep?" He asked, voice hoarse from sleep.

She gripped the glass tightly in her hands. "Yeah."

He nodded, then gestured to the glass of water, "Want somethin' that'll help ya sleep?"

She was about to agree but then she realized he meant alcohol and she shook her head, "No, thanks. I don't drink."

"Me neither," he explained. "Not since I had the kid. But a glass every now an' then helps me sleep when I really can't."

Beth was about to refuse again, but then she stopped herself. How many more hours would she spend lying in bed, staring at the ceiling when she could actually be sleeping? And she also remembered that _Beth_ didn't drink… but did Rosie? She hadn't even considered it. But it was just a glass, and maybe it really would help her sleep - for longer than two hours.

"I just wanna sleep without dreams," she blurted, looking at him for an answer. She wasn't trying to confide in someone about the nightmares that jolted her awake every few hours, she just wanted to know if a glass or two of booze would give her some peaceful sleep for once.

He nodded as if it were the most logical and obvious explanation. "Well, yeah. That's the point, ain't it?"

Beth furrowed her brow as Daryl passed her and stepped into the kitchen to open a cabinet above the fridge. She wondered if he had bad dreams, too. He pulled down a glass bottle with a dark label that held what looked like whiskey, then two tumblers. He poured no more than two fingertips' worth into each glass before returning the bottle to its spot in the cabinet. He turned and handed Beth one of the glasses, exchanging it for her glass of water, which she set on the counter.

She looked at the liquid tentatively, its strong aroma drifting up from the glass and filling her nostrils. It was definitely whiskey. Daryl was already taking a sip. The only light in the kitchen was from above the stove, but it was enough for her to see his every movement as he stood barefoot before her, wearing pajama pants and an old T-shirt. He swallowed his sip and watched her expectantly. She hesitated for another second, lifting the glass to her lips and finding the smell even stronger up close. She held her breath and took a slow sip, pushing it down her throat and trying not to exhale again until after it had passed. When she did, she found that it was smoother than she'd expected. She could almost feel it spreading outwards from inside her center, sending warm prickles all over her body.

"Ya hate it," Daryl said, a small smirk on his lips as he watched her.

She hadn't realized how visibly she'd been wincing the whole time as she took the sip, but it slowly faded. She gave him a weak smile. "It's actually not as bad as I expected. But it's definitely an acquired taste."

The older man furrowed his brow a bit, his voice low and still peppered with sleepiness, "Ain't ya ever drank before?"

She shrugged, trying to seem casual, "Well, I've had sips here and there. But never really had like, a shot or a whole drink or anythin'. My daddy was a – uh, he had a drinking problem before I came around, so he kinda swore off the stuff and told us lots of horror stories to keep us away from it."

Daryl nodded in understanding, "Ain't gotta explain to me, it's yer own choice. I, uh… Sorry for what the kid asked earlier. He can be pretty nosey. Ya know, kids and their curiosity. You can just ignore him when he asks stuff like that, ain't no big deal."

Beth felt her face heat up just the slightest bit and she looked back at her glass, taking another sip as he spoke just so she wouldn't have to make eye contact with him. "No worries. He passed away, there's not much more to say. I just didn't wanna be the one to explain the concept of death to him."

Daryl let out a grunt that was more like a half-chuckle. "Nah, he knows about death. I had to explain to him about his mom. Took him a little while, but he gets it now."

She couldn't help but look back into his eyes at that statement, trying not to let the surprise show on her face. "Your ex? The one you said… you put all her stuff in my room…?"

He nodded, his eyes darting to the closed door of Beth's bedroom for a split-second, "Yeah. It's just her stuff. Didn't wanna throw it into storage, it's still in good condition."

Beth's face must've been exposing her inner thoughts because he quickly added, "She didn't die in there or nothin'. Don't worry, it ain't a deathbed."

She was relieved but tried to act like she didn't know what he was talking about, "No, no, I know. I just… yeah, I knew that."

He shook his head and took another sip of whiskey. She did the same, standing in awkward silence for a moment. While looking downwards, she realized the white T-shirt she'd chosen to put on for a simple trip to the bathroom was actually made of very sheer fabric, and she wasn't wearing a bra. She tried to cross her arms over her chest casually without drawing his attention, taking another sip from her glass in an attempt to cover the movement.

"How long's it been?" He asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

She looked at him questioningly. "Since what?"

"Since yer dad died," he clarified.

"Oh," she said, grabbing at a quick lie. "Um, about four years."

He nodded, "Mine's been gone a while, too. 'Cept I don't miss him. He was a piece of shit. Yer daddy was probably a good man, though."

She nodded, looking away from his intent gaze. He was suddenly making her uncomfortable, and she wasn't sure how much more she should say without putting herself in jeopardy. But she had to have some sort of backstory for herself, or else he'd wonder why she had an inheritance but never mentioned the family who left it to her. Now it was just a case of deciding what would be the best lies to tell him without getting too terribly close to the truth.

"He was," she said softly, still gazing blankly at a spot on the counter behind Daryl.

"Yer mom?" He asked, voice softer as he watched her reactions.

She blinked and looked at him once more, putting on an indifferent expression but feeling her insides twisting as she spoke, "She passed last year. I uh, my brothers took care of me till I was eighteen."

He nodded, but it was sympathetically, "'Least ya had good brothers. Lost my mom when I was younger. House fire. My brother wasn't the best role model growin' up."

She was relieved to hear this, realizing that he was trying to relate to her. Maybe he could see that she had more going on than he had originally assumed and was getting curious about the girl he allowed to live in his apartment. But did that mean he was getting suspicious? Should she go back to her room and start mapping out an entire backstory to memorize and recite to him so he wouldn't start catching on to her ruse? She took another sip of the whiskey, silently pleading with the dark liquid to take away all her worries and give her some rest.

"Did yer eyes change color?"

The question was completely out of nowhere and caught Beth by surprise. She furrowed her brow and looked at Daryl for a second, then noticed he was studying her eyes closely, squinting his own to try to get a better look.

"What?" She blinked repeatedly, then looked down at her glass and tried to play it off. "No, it's probably the-the lighting in here. It's pretty dark."

He shook his head. "Nah, I swear they were brown and now they're blue. Is that normal?"

She shrugged, taking another sip as her stomach tightened and she racked her brain for some sort of believable lie or cover-up. "Well I hope so. Maybe you should get your vision checked."

He scoffed and drained the last of his whiskey from the glass, setting it on the counter next to the sink and moving to leave the kitchen. "Yeah, maybe. I'm headin' back to bed. Hope that helps ya sleep."

She nodded at him but didn't make eye contact again, letting him slip past her to walk down the hallway and back to his bedroom. She gripped the small glass in her hand, listening for the sound of his door closing before she finished the last sip. She set her own empty glass next to his on the counter and went back to her bedroom, shutting the door tightly and returning to the lighting of the bedside lamp. She let out a sigh, as if she'd been holding her breath during her entire encounter with Daryl. She was a mess, inside and out. Every time he asked a question that she didn't expect or that was just a little too personal, she had to race to find an answer, and then she had to worry about sounding and appearing convincing. How long could she keep this up? How many lies could she remember while she stayed here?

Then again, it was a small price to pay for her own freedom. And probably her own survival, too.

She looked around the room for a moment, paranoia racing through her once again. The whiskey had left her feeling slightly light-headed, and she wondered if this was what it meant to be "buzzed." Her eyes stopped at the light that hung from the ceiling – a bulb protected by a white square of glass. She immediately looked around for something to help her reach that high. She spotted the chair that sat at the desk and went to get it, pulling it to the center of the room and steadying it just below the light.

She stepped carefully up onto the chair, balancing herself and trying to steady the chair to assure that its wheels wouldn't move on the carpet as she stood up. She straightened herself and stretched out to make herself as long as possible, reaching her hands up to the light and running her fingertips all along the edges. She prodded the corners, feeling and searching for any sort of hidden camera or recording device. But all she found was dust and the lightbulb.

She climbed down from the chair and breathed a sigh of relief, then pushed the chair to the wall, in the corner nearest the door and the bed. She stood up on it again, running her fingers along the top of the wall, where it met the ceiling. She searched for pinholes or wires, moving the chair along each wall of the room as she searched every edge, every corner. It took her at least thirty minutes, but when she had finally searched every surface of the wall and every nook and cranny of the room – including every inch of the nightstand, dresser, and bed – she stopped and sat down on the bed. Her heart was still beating erratically, and she knew that she was acting like a methed out freak right now. She'd watched Jimmy do this exact same thing a time or two before they broke up. She had thought he was so insane and out of his mind, but now here she was, doing the same.

Except she had good reason to believe people were after her, because they actually were. Jimmy was on drugs and overly paranoid for no reason – in fact, if it weren't for him, Beth wondered if her family would even be in this situation to begin with. But she didn't have the time or the energy to go back to thinking about _that_ again.

She stared at her bag, sitting unmoving atop the dresser as it had been all night. She still had no idea how much money, exactly, Maggie had given her. Nor had she dared to look through the heirlooms that had ended up in her possession. She was trying to calm down, should she really be thinking about going through her bag full of the past?

She shook her head and looked away. Reaching over to turn off the light, she sighed and lay back on the bed, leaving the comforter where she'd left it on the other side. She turned away and faced the bedroom, back turned to her phone that was lying somewhere beneath the comforter. Her hand slipped underneath the pillow and gripped the pocket watch, feeling it ticking in her palm. It was only 4:39.

Beth stared at the green numbers on the alarm clock, watching the minutes slowly change. Her head swam from the whiskey and the paranoia. She didn't really notice when the numbers started to get blurry or when her eyelids started getting too heavy to hold up. This time, the dreams didn't wake her.

 **to be continued…**


	11. paranoia, everybody's coming to get me

_**paranoia, everybody's coming to get me**_

For the first time in days, Beth became conscious mentally before opening her eyes. If she'd been dreaming, whatever it was had faded from her memory as soon as she remembered where she was. She was still lying on her side, facing the alarm clock. The green numbers reminded her of what she'd been staring at before she drifted off, but hours had passed since then. Now it was 8:43. The apartment was light again from the sun pouring into the windows, as she could see from the cracks of her bedroom door. But there were no sounds outside. It seemed that everything was completely still and silent.

She stood up from bed, stretching out her aching muscles. She was still feeling the effects of all the running and walking she'd done over the last week. Everything around her looked the same as when she'd gone to sleep, which relaxed her. Lately, she seemed to wake up tense and fearful of her surroundings until she could assure herself.

The sounds of the city were louder than they'd been the night before as they drifted up from the streets and through the walls and windows. Beth ventured out into the apartment to find it just as empty as it had sounded. Daryl and Malachi's door was open to reveal two perfectly-made beds and Malachi's daily scene of toys. The bathroom smelled like someone had recently showered and shaved. And the kitchen had two bowls and glasses sitting in the sink, along with the three glasses left behind by Beth and Daryl. There was also a note on the fridge:

 _Forgot to give you the spare key last night. It's in the bowl on the bar. Lock up if you go anywhere. The kid's across the hall at 3B with Carol if you need anything. I'll be home around 6. There's only 1 remote for the TV and you have to press the TV button or CABLE button depending on which one you want to turn on. If you can't get a hold of Carol for some reason, my number is 212-366-3160. Don't call or text unless the apartment is on fire. I'll be working._

She read the note about three times over, memorizing the phone number quickly. She didn't even contemplate going to the neighbor's to introduce herself. The less people who saw or knew her here, the better. She glanced at the decorative bowl that sat on the bar, near the front door. She could see that the only thing sitting inside was a single, silver key to the apartment. She opened the fridge, peering in to see what options she had for breakfast.

Daryl hadn't stocked up on groceries very well. Or maybe he was running low. Beth wasn't sure, but she settled with a bowl of oatmeal and an English muffin, finding mostly water and milk to drink but craving caffeine. She glanced at the coffeemaker to see that there was still a cup's worth in the pot that Daryl hadn't emptied out, so she helped herself. It was still lukewarm. She took her breakfast to the small table and sat down by herself, beginning to eat. She realized that she was sitting in complete silence and it was almost unnerving. But in a way, it was nice. No people, strangers, crowds, or police. She could definitely get used to being by herself this often.

When she finished her oatmeal and English muffin, she picked up the mug of coffee and sipped it slowly as she stood and wandered around the living room. She walked along each wall, gazing at each framed photo and decoration. They were mostly photos of Daryl and Malachi together at different stages of their lives. There were a couple photos that were older, before Malachi ever existed. Beth couldn't find a woman in any of the photos, except one: a very old photo that looked like it was from the early eighties. A baby boy sat on a mother's lap – the boy could've been Malachi's brother judging by his features. The woman was smiling and holding a cigarette in one hand, the other hand on the boy's waist. They both looked happy. Peaceful.

Beth stared at it for a moment before it clicked in her mind that it was Daryl and his mother. She didn't see any other photos with her, or any pictures that were this old. It must've been the only picture he had left of her.

It made Beth's heart ache for a moment, reminding her that she didn't have any photos of her mother, either. She hadn't thought to grab any on her way out. She might have her wedding ring, or some other material item that didn't really mean anything, but she didn't have any photographic proof that her mother existed. All she had now was her memory to go by. She envied Daryl for just a second, thinking how lucky he was to be able to look and easily see the beautiful brown in his mother's hair any time he wanted.

She feared she'd forget their faces. Would she have to rely on what the news sites online posted to have pictures of her family? How did she know she'd remember what they all looked like in a decade, or two, or three? She had nothing. Not even her journal.

Another photo – this one sitting in a modest black frame atop the bookcase – caught her attention. She gazed at it closer, leaning in and staring intently. There was a younger Daryl, maybe only a couple years older than Beth was now, standing with his arm around a man who was similar height. She didn't notice the resemblance in them both for a few minutes, then she realized that they had the same eyes. But the other man looked familiar to Beth in a different way, and she couldn't quite pinpoint it. She could feel his name on the tip of her tongue – she wanted to say that it started with an M. But her memory was a foggy, disorganized mess, and she simply couldn't place him right now.

She continued wandering around the living room, sipping her coffee and looking at all the pictures of the fun things Daryl and Malachi had done together. They'd gone to the beach, ridden on a ferry, taken a train ride, went to the carnival, and they even visited Disneyland. But as much as she looked, she didn't see any sign of Malachi's mother.

She followed the trail of photos to find only a couple hanging in the hallway. One was of Daryl pushing Malachi on a swing, and the other was of Daryl – with shaggier hair and messier clothes – holding a very, very small newborn, who had just a small tuft of blond hair atop his head. Daryl's face looked like he'd been crying, but he was grinning with delight.

Beth smiled to herself and continued down the hall to the boys' bedroom, stepping lighter on the carpet as she tiptoed into the room, mug gripped in her hands. She knew she wasn't doing anything wrong, besides being nosey, but she still felt guilty being inside the room while Daryl was out of the house. Nevertheless, she continued gazing around at what hung on the walls.

He hadn't decorated the bedroom on his side much, and Malachi's was covered with childish interests. But there was a framed photo sitting on Daryl's nightstand, and Beth stepped closer to peer down and study it. She was shocked to find a woman who was unmistakably Malachi's mother.

Beth's mouth fell agape just the slightest bit as she studied the photo closer, staring at the woman who stood with Daryl, holding a blond, infant boy in her arms. Her face was smiling, but her eyes were not. They were a piercing green, and they stood out against her hair, which was so blonde it was almost white. It went down past her shoulders, and she had porcelain skin, decorated with tattoos here and there, and stood nearly as tall as Daryl. They both looked happy: the picturesque family. But Beth felt like there must've been a reason that he didn't have any other photos of her in the house. Did he want to forget her just because she died? She didn't know this guy very well yet, but he didn't seem like the completely cold-hearted type to just pretend that someone didn't exist as a way to deal with losing them. That was no way to raise a child who lost their mother… was it?

She told herself that she had no business worrying about any of this and it wasn't even her problem to begin with. She wasn't sure why it intrigued her, or why she wanted to know anything about this guy. The way she saw it, if she knew more about him, then he'd want to know more about her, in all fairness. And she didn't want that. So maybe if she just kept her mouth shut and didn't ask questions, he would do the same.

She wandered back into the living room, deciding to distract herself by looking through the bookcase. She could use the escape of a book right now. It had been so long since she'd had the time or energy to sit down and actually read a whole book. She started reading the title on each spine, one-by-one, as her eyes scanned the shelves, starting with the top and making her way down. There were quite a few novels that Beth had actually heard of, and she got excited at the prospect of multiple titles that she'd be excited to read. There were several books about motorcycles and general bike mechanics, which was expected. There was, of course, an entire shelf dedicated to children's books – most of which were about bugs or Ant-Man. And then there was the very bottom shelf, which held dusty, old books that looked tattered and like they hadn't been touched in years. One of these was _What To Expect When You're Expecting_. Another was a poetry book by a famous poet that Beth had learned about years ago in school. There was a thick, old Bible that was dustier and more worn than any of the other books. A couple of the others were titles like _Understanding Postpartum Depression_ , _Healing After Loss_ and _Talking To Your Child About Death and Grief_. And then there was a blank book, seeming to have no title or author. She couldn't help herself and reached out to pull it from the shelf and examine it, setting her coffee mug down on the floor beside her.

It was dusty, too, and hadn't been touched in quite a while. She opened it to reveal that it was a photo album, and she realized it was full of all the photos that weren't hanging on the walls. For a second, she thought of how nosey she was being, but wondered if it was really snooping if he left it out in the living room bookcase like this. She decided that he probably wouldn't notice either way and as long as she didn't mention anything, it wouldn't matter. So she began flipping through the pages.

Surprisingly, and somewhat disappointingly, it was only the first two or three pages that had photos of Malachi's mother. But there was no Malachi in sight. It was a handful of photos of Daryl and the woman, both of them looking younger than they did in the photo with baby Malachi. They looked happier, too. Or at least, the woman did. Her eyes were bright with life, and Beth noticed that the woman's son had inherited her smile as well as her nose. There was one where they stood on a beach, kissing and glowing with love. Another showed them on a Ferris wheel, the wind blowing through their hair as they grinned in enjoyment. Another was taken by the woman herself from an angle, as they were lying in bed together, looking sleepy with matching bedheads, but happy.

She flipped to the next pages and found that the woman had simply disappeared. There were no other pictures from the hospital, none of Malachi as a newborn in his mother's arms – or his father's, for that matter. The pictures seemed to have nearly a year-long gap before it was strictly Malachi's milestones and Daryl doing activities with his only son. She flipped all the way to the end of the book, watching Malachi age from about a year old to now. So it seemed that the photo on Daryl's nightstand was the only picture of all three of them before she passed away.

Her curiosity was burning and all thoughts of the other books in the bookcase had fled her mind. More than anything, she was yearning for her own photo album of her family. Why hadn't she thought to grab pictures?

But that was a stupid question because she already knew the answer. She could still vividly remember the panic she felt that night, the urgency in her sister's voice. The very last thing on either of their minds was whether they'd have memoirs of the family that had been demolished. She had depended on Maggie. She'd relied on her to have a plan, to be with her through all of this. But she was locked up now. They all were. And Beth didn't even have a fucking _picture_ of them.

She put the photo album back where she'd found it in the bookcase and left the living room, heading to her bedroom. She went to her bag and opened it to retrieve the few toiletries she had, but the wads of cash were taunting her. She wondered what lay at the bottom, in the shadowy depths of the bag. What had Maggie thought to scrape from the safe? What had her daddy found to be of enough value to keep in the safe? And how identifiable were the items to the police?

She bit her lip and turned away, heading to the bathroom and pushing the thought from her head. But the entire time she was showering, brushing her teeth, and dressing, the bag kept nagging at her. It seemed to call her from its spot on the dresser. She wanted to look through it – _needed_ to look through it. But she wasn't sure how much more stress she could handle right now. What if she found something she didn't want to know about? A part of her wanted to chuck the bag over a bridge and never think about any of it again. But the larger, more logical part of her knew that it was in her best interest to know what she'd taken across several state lines. She needed to make an inventory if she ever intended on taking the next steps towards figuring out where she should go and what she should do. She still didn't know how long she'd be safe in New York City, despite its distance from Georgia. The news could go national any day now, and she'd be totally fucked.

She stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a few minutes, brushing what little hair she had left. It barely covered her ears, and she silently longed for her long, blonde hair. Yes, it had been a pain in the ass to take care of sometimes, but it was times like this when all she wanted to do was run a brush through it and let the relief flow from her scalp down through the rest of her body. Her eyes were bright blue in the light, and she remembered how Daryl had noticed the difference from the contacts last night. She had to remember to put them in whenever he was home, even when she went out in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. She couldn't risk being any more suspicious. She could tell he wasn't a stupid guy, and she knew she wouldn't be able to slip much past him without raising some questions.

She made a mental note to run out to the store sometime in the next few days and buy new toiletries. She'd had to resort to using Daryl's shampoo and conditioner because she'd forgotten to buy some. That reminded her that she would have to check her phone again to find nearby stores and check up on the news sites again. As much as she didn't want to see what they had to write, she had to know what she was dealing with before she dared to leave the safety of the apartment. If there hadn't been any more updates, she might not have given it another thought before wandering out to the store today. But now that she knew they were still actively looking for her, she needed to keep looking over her shoulder and lay as low as possible. And she had to wonder if Daryl kept up on Georgia news. She was praying he didn't.

The last few sips of coffee were cold by now, so Beth poured it out into the sink. She went about grabbing the sponge and dish soap that sat next to the faucet and turning on hot water to clean the dishes. She set them in the dishrack next to the sink one by one, then wiped down the sink before rinsing and drying her hands. When she was finished, she walked over to one of the windows in the living room and gazed out at the city that lay before her. There were a few people on the sidewalks, going about their days. The sun was bright and the birds were still chirping energetically. Beth noticed that some of the leaves on the trees were beginning to change, and everyone was wearing a light jacket in the crisp morning air. Autumn was coming, and she'd be spending a new season in a city she'd never been to before. August had passed by in an emotional, confusing blur. Would she still be here come October? Being so unsure of her own plan was unsettling to think about.

As she walked back to her bedroom, she counted the nights and days in her head. It felt like it'd been an eternity since she left the farm. But it had only been five nights and four days since she'd killed Detective Shane Walsh. Four nights and four days since the news had broadcasted her picture with the title "murderer" on television. Four long days since she'd run for as long as she could while her father, sister, and brother-in-law were probably taken into interrogation rooms and half-tortured for God only knows how long. She still wondered if they were sitting in cells in peace, or if they were still being interrogated by police and beaten for every bit of information they had. That should be her right now.

She shut the door behind her, even though she knew Daryl wouldn't be home for quite a few hours. This left her in the silence of her bedroom, the sounds of the city just whispers from the windows of the living room. She turned on the light hanging from the ceiling and spotted her bag on the dresser, still glaring at her. But this was step one, and she had to get it over with. And what better time than while she knew she'd be alone for hours on end?

She grabbed it and unzipped it, opening it wide and turning it upside-down in front of her. The contents spilled onto the soft carpeting, a few objects rolling to the sides while the numerous wads of cash fell with loud _flop_ sonto the floor. Beth got down to her knees and rested on the back of her legs, beginning to dig through the stack of money and items. Her face was heating up as she kept pulling out stacks of cash and setting them aside in their own little area, finding more and more money appearing even when she thought she'd found it all. The wads were all kept tight by multiple rubber bands, and some of them were so tightly compacted that Beth wondered if she could ever count that many bills.

It took a few minutes, but she set all the money aside in its own pile. She then gathered every item that had fallen from the bag, or rolled to the side or nearby. When she laid them all out and began examining them, she realized that she recognized the heirlooms she'd ended up with in the panic of that night. One was a small, gold band with an inscription on the inside – it was her mother's wedding ring, with Hershel and Annette's wedding anniversary inscribed. The other was a small, gold cross on a thin, golden chain. Beth had to examine this one a little closer, squinting and studying it until she remembered: this was her grandma's treasured crucifix necklace – Hershel's mother, who had passed about a decade ago. She'd had this necklace since before Hershel was born, so it was at least seventy years old. She'd left it to Beth in her will, and Hershel had agreed to keep it safely locked up until Beth turned eighteen and decided to move out. She was glad she'd ended up with it – it was a tiny piece of the family and its history that she'd left behind, but a piece nonetheless.

As she stared down at the rest of the scattered objects – a couple pairs of underwear she hadn't pulled from the bag, the spare box of hair dye that she hadn't thought to throw out, the scissors she'd used to cut her hair – she wondered what had been in Maggie's bag. What kind of Greene family heirlooms were being held as evidence right now? She'd probably never know. She also wondered how Maggie had thought to put so much of the money into the two bags that would actually escape the crime scene. Or had it just been luck?

The money sat in its own pile a couple feet away, and Beth glanced at it with apprehension. She turned away from it and distracted herself with putting her momma's wedding ring onto the same chain as her grandma's gold crucifix. When she'd finished, she put it around her neck and carefully latched the clasp, then tucked it under her shirt and let the cold metal rest against the warm skin of her chest. She waited a few moments. But no, she didn't feel any closer to her family members – dead or otherwise. Yes, it was nice to have pieces of them, but these pieces didn't keep the sounds of their voices and the colors of their eyes fresh in her memory.

She sighed and turned to look over her shoulder at the money once more. She felt guilty having it. What could one person possibly need with all this money? But then again, she'd have been really struggling without it. And she couldn't exactly get a job without any ID while her face was plastered all over news sites and papers. It was such a complicated relationship with the few possessions she owned.

She hesitated a few more moments, finally standing up and leaving the room to find a pad of blank paper and a pen on the bar in the kitchen. She returned to her spot on the floor, having shut the bedroom door tightly again. With the pad of paper and pen at her side, she began sorting the money into piles and counting each stack by its bills, some of the rubber bands busting and flying off into different corners of the room as she slipped them off the wads of cash.

Slowly and steadily, she counted the bills in each wad of money, writing down the numbers in the form of a list as she went and setting aside the counted bills to their own separate pile, sloppily wrapping them back up with rubber bands. She was lost in a world of numbers and addition, the list on the paper getting longer and longer. Most of the numbers she wrote down were in the thousands, sometimes the tens of thousands.

Beth had been meticulously counting the money and organizing it for about half an hour when something slipped from the stack of cash currently being held in her hand and landed in her lap. It was a bit heavier than any of the bills and white, but it had been tucked in between and hidden well. It was white and folded in half, and for a second, Beth thought it might be some kind of note. But when she picked it up and unfolded it, the breath caught in her throat and her whole chest tightened up.

She blinked away tears as she stared down at the old photo in her hands. It was her family – _all_ of them. The feeling in her chest was a hurricane of happiness and sadness, bringing back a flood of memories and emotions she'd been shoving off. Could it really be? Could that really be her momma, her daddy, her precious Shawn and her beloved Maggie? All in one photo that miraculously made its way across state lines to join Beth in this strange place?

It was. She kept searching it to convince herself that it couldn't be them, that no one would've thought to keep a family photo. Maybe this was a similar family, some kind of mistake. But it wasn't. It was the Greene's, unmistakably. They were all gathered on the front porch of their home on the farm. Sitting in a wooden chair was the beautiful, youthful, brown-haired Annette Greene. On her lap was a baby Beth, just short of two years old, all chubby cheeks and blonde hair. Standing behind Annette was a younger, more handsome Hershel – clean shaven and smiling politely, his blue eyes still sparkling and some of his hair revealing the blond that it used to be. His hands were resting atop his wife's shoulders, and to his left stood an eight-year-old Maggie. The young brunette was all tomboy, including the scowl on her face. Finally, to the right of Hershel, stood a four-year-old Shawn, who was wearing the same big smile that Beth could still vividly picture when she thought about him.

She hadn't realized her hands were trembling until the picture began shaking so much that she could no longer make out her momma's face. She set it down on the floor in front of her, tears pouring down her face as she tried to calm herself. The pit at the bottom of her stomach was growing deeper and emptier, longing for something she'd never have again. She knew she should be thankful for this small gift, especially after the way she'd envied Daryl's photo of his mother earlier. But somehow, finding it had brought all the pain back in a rush.

She sat in silence, the picture lying on the floor just a few inches away. She stared at it, eyes still full of tears. She didn't know how long she sat there, just gazing and trying to remember what their faces looked like now. When she finally sniffled and wiped away her tears, clearing her throat, she picked up the photo once more and held it against her chest like it was a treasure she'd lost long ago and only just found. This was her new prized possession, besides her daddy's pocket watch. This was something irreplaceable that would mean nothing to police but everything to Beth. This would probably be the only photo she'd ever have of them. It had a crease down the middle from being folded and tucked between the money, but other than that, it was in good condition. She was already thinking of how she could get it laminated for preservation and keep it in a safe place at all times.

When she finally decided to set it aside, keeping it very close to her on the carpeted floor, she realized that she'd completely lost count of the stack with which she'd been previously occupied. With a sigh, she gathered the contents of the stack up again and started counting from the beginning. But her chest felt significantly lighter, and glancing over at the photo every few seconds eased her mind each time.

As the minutes passed and the pile of already counted bills grew larger and larger, Beth found herself checking on the photo less and less. At this point, she was looking forward to having the bills counted so she could stuff them all back into the safety of her bag. She began counting one of the last dozen wads of money, mouthing the numbers silently as she pulled each crisp bill apart. But once again, she was stopped abruptly. A small piece of paper, folded into a tiny square, fell out from between the bills and floated down to the carpet right in front of Beth's legs. She set the cash aside and picked up the paper carefully, unfolding it to read the contents.

It was Maggie's handwriting. The note was short but precise. It read:

 _BURN all IDs, passports, birth certificates, SS cards, RX labels – ANYTHING!  
Washington, D.C. craigslist  
post ad seeking Jesus in casual encounters  
only reply if email says "follow the North Star"  
password is Mary Magdalene Refuge  
NEVER give real name – cash only_

She read and reread the simple sentences, staring at the handwriting and knowing it was Maggie's but second-guessing herself. It was, though. She could even hear her big sister's voice in her head as she read the loopy L's and the uncommon G's. The sentences didn't make sense at first. She wondered what this could be for. What would she be getting herself into if she tried to follow this note? Was this _meant_ to be left for her, or was it something that only Maggie would truly understand?

But then she reread it again, and suddenly everything clicked. Her sister's voice echoed in her head, but this time it was something she'd actually said… on the last night at the farm. When they had been scrambling around and gathering everything to make a run for it, Maggie had looked at Beth and told her, _"…I planned for this."_

 _Is this what you meant?_ She thought, wishing she could telepathically communicate with her sister now more than ever. _Did you know that when things went bad, they'd go_ _ **completely**_ _bad? How could you plan for us to run away and completely change our identities…? Why didn't you make us leave sooner?_

She had a million and one questions, but the relief flowed through her as she thought about how this was at least one of her questions – and her biggest problems – solved. She silently thanked both Maggie and God over and over for letting her find this within the stacks of money. It was beginning to explain why Maggie had ensured that Beth got away with most of the cash.

She slid her finger down to the bottom of the small piece of creased paper, readying to fold it back up and tuck it away safely for the time being. But her fingernail budged the edge of the paper, and suddenly another fold appeared that she hadn't noticed before. She quickly realized there was one more line at the bottom of the note that had been folded up and hidden. And it was possibly the most crucial part:

 _LEAVE COUNTRY – EUROPE (?)_

Beth's breath caught in her throat as it dawned on her that her future had just been decided for her; she had no choice but to get a new identity and then use it to flee the country. Even Maggie knew it was the only option. Logically, there was no safe way to stay in the United States and avoid ever being identified or caught, even with a new identity and different hair color. In the back of her mind, she'd known the whole time that there was really only two ways for this whole thing to end. And one of them was prison.

* * *

It took Beth about an hour to finish counting and reorganizing all the money, but once she'd finished, she was relieved to be able to place it safely back inside the bag. She shoved the extra items – hair dye, scissors and whatnot – into one of the empty drawers in the dresser. Then she placed the bag, now zipped and latched tightly, beneath the bed, where the dust ruffle hid it from view. It was within easy reach, but at least now it wouldn't be taunting her from atop the dresser. And as for the photo and note, those were placed carefully beneath her pillow right beside the Beretta and pocket watch.

She returned to the notepad that still lay on the floor, about twenty-five different numbers scrawled down in her own handwriting. She retrieved her phone and opened the calculator, then went about adding up all the amounts she'd counted in each stack to see what the grand total was. She had an idea of what it would be, but once she'd punched in and added each number and the total appeared on the screen, it shocked her. The number looked so much bigger in real life than it had in her head. And she was still trying to come to terms that it was all _dollars_. And all _hers_.

She swallowed the knot in her throat and cleared the calculator, tossing her phone back onto the bed. She tore the piece of paper from the pad and ripped it into about fifty different pieces before letting all the pieces float down into the small trash can that sat in the corner. Then she returned the pad and pen to their original spots on the kitchen bar, as if she'd never even used them. At this moment, she was wishing she hadn't. She should've just let herself remain blissfully ignorant to the amount of money she actually had.

It was past noon now, about lunchtime, but Beth didn't have much of an appetite. The oatmeal and coffee were still churning in her stomach with each new discovery she made, and now the thought of contacting some mystery person via Craigslist was weighing on her mind. Her curiosity burned and she wanted to know if it were really as good as it sounded. But she also knew that it could be a setup of some kind, or maybe the person wasn't even around anymore. What if they'd been recently busted, too? Beth reminded herself that she had no idea how old this note was or how long ago Maggie had made it.

But through all the questions and scenarios and what-if's, Beth finally decided that it wouldn't hurt anything to at least try. She had no other choice at this point. And she knew that she certainly wasn't going to find someone who could make her a new ID and passport off the streets of New York. What were the chances anyway?

She sighed to herself in defeat and plopped down on her bed, pulling out her phone once more and bringing up the Craigslist page. She found the section for Washington, D.C. and wondered for a moment if this meant that Maggie had some sort of connection back in D.C., and if she did, had she always intended for them to go north, towards D.C. and onward? Had Beth actually made the correct guess when she fled Georgia? Or was this guy only checking this page while he lived in some other far-off place? She hoped he had someone in New York City, because she wasn't sure if she could risk travelling anywhere else for a long time.

The "casual encounters" section of the website was a spelling and grammar mess, riddled with abbreviations and acronyms that Beth didn't understand and had no desire to understand. She created a new post and made the title simply, " _Seeking Jesus_." In the body of the ad, she repeated, " _I am seeking Jesus._ " She had no idea if this was what the note had meant for her to do, but it had been very vague and all she could do was try. She clicked the Post button and held her breath for a second before watching her ad appear on the list. It was connected to the email she'd recently set up, so she exited the website and opened her email to check the inbox. There was only a confirmation email from Craigslist, but she continued to refresh the page for a few minutes in anticipation.

When no replies appeared, Beth moved back to the news sites that she had been dreading. She checked the Georgia news first, finding her story moved down on the front page by a couple of other headlines about recent events. She was relieved to see that it hadn't been updated again since the last time she checked.

Before moving to the Atlanta news, she checked her email again to find a reply to her ad. She opened it to find a crude and suggestive message, which she immediately deleted. Disappointed, she went back to the Atlanta website.

The Greene Family Farm story was the third headline listed on the front page, which left Beth unsettled. She clicked the article to read the same information that she'd found on the Georgia news site, posted around the same time. Yet there was still no mention of a press conference by police, which was something Beth could certainly be grateful for.

With the fear of national coverage weighing heavily on her shoulders, she navigated her way to the national news sites and searched them thoroughly, scouring every page and every recent news story within the last five days. But every site, including CNN and Fox, was reporting on politics and tragedies – just another day in America. Somehow, they still weren't getting wind of the Greene story. Or maybe they didn't think it was interesting enough?

Beth counted her blessings and silently thanked God for the millionth time as she refreshed her email once more. She'd received a couple more replies, which she clicked on eagerly. However, they were just more sex solicitations. She deleted them with a grunt, resenting the fact that she couldn't _really_ be angry about the types of emails she was getting.

The rest of the afternoon passed by slowly. Beth spent most of her time refreshing news sites and her email, as well as staring at the photo of her family and gazing out the window to the huge city sprawled before her. She thought about reading a book or turning on the TV, but she felt that she was too distracted to give anything else her full attention right now. She was enjoying the silence and solitude for now, as well as a mug of hot tea from the bags she'd found in the back of Daryl's cupboard. At one point, she ventured into Daryl and Malachi's room and got down on the floor to inspect the toy scene that Malachi had left out for the day. She wasn't sure, but it appeared to be a train robbery that was being stopped by three of the X-Men and six tiny Minions, all accompanied by ants wearing battle armor.

It was nearing 5 o'clock and Beth was beginning to get hungry. She'd finished her tea and had found some crackers to snack on, but she didn't know what Daryl had planned for dinner. She kind of wanted to eat before he got home so she could hide away in her room and avoid speaking to him altogether. However, there was nothing that she could prepare for herself in one serving. It seemed that the only entrée he had the ingredients for was spaghetti, which Beth happened to know how to make very well.

She resigned to choosing spaghetti and gathered the ingredients onto the counter, boiling a pot of water for the noodles while she prepared the sauce. It didn't take long, but by the time she was done, she'd filled the sink with more dirty dishes. So she set about washing everything she used, putting away the dried dishes from the rack as well. When she finished, it was still a quarter to six so she filled a plate with the hot spaghetti and sauce and then covered the rest of what she'd made so it would stay hot on the stove.

She ate at the table, but was behind the closed door of her bedroom before 6 o'clock. Amongst her many paranoid thoughts, she decided to put in a new pair of brown contacts before Daryl arrived home. She didn't plan on seeing him, but she had to be prepared. Almost exactly on the hour, Beth heard the sound of the front door being unlocked and opened. Seconds later, Daryl's voice and Malachi's voice drifted through the apartment, shattering the silent shield Beth had constructed. She lay in her bed, staring at the screen of her phone as she waited for an email or a news update. She listened as footsteps moved about the living room, getting closer to her door and then farther away. Minutes later, there was a light knock on her door.

Her eyes shot to the closed door and she hesitated. But when another light knock came, she set the phone down and stood from the bed, walking over and opening the door just wide enough to show her face. Daryl was standing in the hall, wearing clothes that were just as dirty as yesterday's.

"What's up?" Beth asked, eying him quizzically.

 _Thank God I put in the contacts,_ she thought.

"You make that?" Daryl asked simply, pointing a thumb over his shoulder towards the kitchen area.

She nodded. "Yeah, it was all I could really find. I already ate, y'all can have the rest."

He lowered his hand and gave a brief nod of his head in understanding, then gave her a stern look. She was a bit taken aback by his stoic gaze, but stood silently, waiting for him to speak.

"'Nother thing," he said, staring into her eyes so intensely that she was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"Yeah?" She quirked a brow, waiting. It felt like he was hesitating to say something important.

"Last night, you said yer mom died last year," Daryl recalled. Beth nodded to show that she remembered. He went on, "And yer brothers raised ya till you were eighteen?"

Beth nodded, recalling the story she'd constructed on the spot the night before. She wondered why he was asking her to repeat these things, but then the realization hit her.

Her lie didn't make sense.

"But yer twenty-one, so… why'd they have t'raise ya?" There it was. He had picked up on her inconsistency and figured out that she was lying. The only thing she could grasp onto now was which part she'd been lying about.

Her mind raced. How could she play this off? She needed to figure out a way to make it all fit in just a split-second, but it was a gaping plot hole that she hadn't planned for. She wasn't good at improvising, why had she gotten herself into this mess? Daryl was staring at her like he'd caught her doing something she'd specifically been told not to do, and that's exactly how she felt.

Her mouth was shut tight and her gaze drifted away from Daryl as she searched for something to say. But he must've interpreted it as being too painful for her to speak of, because he filled in the pieces for her within moments.

"She left ya?"

Her eyes shot back up to meet Daryl's again, and he watched her expectantly. She nodded slowly, swallowing the knot in her throat. She had the urge to smile, but pushed it down because she knew it would completely fuck up the God-given blessing she'd just received. She was almost shaking from the close call she'd just had. What she'd thought was accusation was really his hesitation in confronting her about an uncomfortable fact. This man's expressions were nearly unreadable.

"How'd you know?" She said quietly, knowing that her voice was only contributing to the façade of pain.

He shrugged, "Just guessed. Sorry, didn't mean t'bring up old shit."

She shook her head, assuring him, "Nah, it's… I'm past it."

Silently, she hoped she wasn't disrespecting her momma's memory by lying about her.

There was a second of awkward silence, during which Beth had no idea what to say. Should she continue the lie and get elaborate? Or should she let him do the talking so she didn't dig herself any deeper? But he resolved it for her by chuckling lightly, a smirk appearing on his face.

She looked at him quizzically, but he explained, "Y'know, fer a second, I thought ya mighta lied about yer age. 'Cause, I mean, ya look about sixteen. Neighbor says I'm paranoid. Guess she might be right."

Beth couldn't contain the small, amused smile that appeared on her own face, matching Daryl's. He was _so fucking right_ and he had _no_ idea. Whoever this neighbor was, Beth was deeply grateful for them.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," she lied, adding a small chuckle.

He glanced back to check on Malachi, the sound of the TV being turned on coming from the living room, then said, "Thanks for makin' dinner. Did ya wanna watch TV or anything?"

She shook her head, "No thanks, I'm good. I'm just gonna hang out in here."

He nodded and gazed behind Beth into her bedroom for a second before looking back into her eyes. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but shut it again and waved his hand in a small gesture before turning and walking away, heading toward the kitchen. As soon as he turned, Beth shut the door and retreated back to her bed. She wondered if he'd try to get her to socialize more since they spoke the night before. Maybe she should've made it clear from the beginning that she didn't want to talk or get personal with him. But then again, he didn't seem like the type who wanted to talk and get to know someone new, even if they were living in his apartment. So maybe this had been a one-off occurrence.

She changed back into her sleeping clothes and relaxed in bed, phone in hand as she routinely refreshed her email in between absent-mindedly scrolling through news articles. She could hear the TV in the living room and the boys' voices every now and then. The sun set slowly, but once it did, the apartment was back to being dark and calm.

Beth took out her contacts and set them aside on a small dish she'd gotten from the kitchen, turning off her beside lamp and shutting her eyes. She tried to think about all the memorabilia from her family that she had now, and how things weren't turning out quite as badly as she'd thought. The whiskey above the fridge was almost calling her name as she struggled to slow her mind down. Then a sound _ding_ ed from her phone, and her eyes immediately popped open.

It was an email from an encrypted address, in reply to the Craigslist ad. The subject was blank, but when she opened it, she read:

 _Follow the North Star._

Her hands were trembling as she composed a reply and typed out, " _Mary Magdalene Refuge_." Then she hit Send.

 **to be continued…**


	12. i'm runnin' underground with the moles

_**i'm runnin' underground with the moles**_

It took even longer for Beth to get to sleep once she had the thought of the "seeking Jesus" reply on her mind. At first, she expected an email to appear almost immediately. But minutes passed, and then hours, and then she gave up anticipating anything else for the night. Based on the sounds coming from outside her bedroom door, she figured she must've finally dozed off not long after Daryl and Malachi went to bed.

She slept restlessly. Bad dreams visited her fleetingly, and she would wake up every couple of hours to check the clock as well as her phone, then roll over and go right back to sleep. But when morning came, she awoke for the last time to hear the shower running in the bathroom next door and see faint light coming from beneath her bedroom door. The clock read 7:14. She checked her phone again but found no new notifications. Her eyelids weren't quite as heavy this time, so she sat up and stretched, listening as the shower next door was shut off.

She rubbed her eyes and picked up her phone once more, unplugging it from the charger and scrolling through the emails from the night before. She checked all the timestamps and tried to predict when this person might reply. But there was no telling, and that drove her crazy.

The screen suddenly changed in her hand and the phone began vibrating, making Beth jump. She realized someone was calling her – something that had never happened before. It was an Atlanta number, and for a second, fear struck her heart as she thought someone had found her. But as it continued to vibrate, waiting for her to press either Answer or Ignore, the logical part of her eliminated any realistic possibility that someone had found her. Besides, why would they call her instead of just ambushing her? And right after she figured that out, a memory came to her: Irma and Dale in the restaurant, when she'd given Irma her phone number and promised to text that she was safe.

Had she ever texted them? Beth couldn't even remember at this point, the last week was such a blur of emotions and drastic changes. She'd gotten so caught up in finding a place to stay and meeting Daryl and laying low that she'd completely blanked it from her mind to send Irma even the briefest of texts to assure that she was alive and well.

Beth scolded herself inwardly and hit Answer, putting the phone up to her ear and hesitantly speaking, "Hello?"

A woman's voice came from the other end, "Rosie?"

The breath Beth had been holding released from her lungs and she smiled to herself, replying, "Hey, Irma. I'm so sorry I never texted, I've been so busy – "

Irma interrupted, sounding just as relieved as Beth, although for different reasons, "It's okay, it's alright now, I'm just glad you're safe. I've been so worried! I think I must've sent you about a dozen text messages. Dale says we don't have unlimited messaging so he's a little upset about that, but oh well. Where are you staying?"

Beth got a confused look on her face, wondering how she hadn't noticed any texts from Irma. She put the phone on speaker as she answered the old woman's questions, navigating the phone menu to find her texting app for the first time. "Yeah, I dunno what happened, I guess – I guess I didn't get the notifications for any of your messages. I'm sorry. I'm lookin' through them right now… yeah, no I didn't even know I had these. I woulda sent you a message, but I kinda uh… Well I had some difficulties but I got everythin' figured out now. I found this nice man to stay with. He has a little kid, he works all day, and I have my own room. He's nice. He's from Georgia, too."

Irma breathed another sigh of relief, "Oh, honey, be careful trustin' people out there. But I'm glad you're good. He sounds like a nice person. And if he's from Georgia, I reckon he was raised right."

Beth nodded and smiled, even though Irma couldn't see her. "Yeah, I know. I'm bein' careful, don't worry. Did you and Dale leave the city yet?"

Irma chuckled, "Yeah, we did. And I also found what you left, missy…"

Beth couldn't help but smile wider. "Sorry, I know you didn't want me to but I had to. You guys deserve it."

"Well I just can't believe you got Dale to keep a secret from me for a whole day. That man is not a good liar," the older woman laughed. "But really, honey, it's so much... I nearly made him drive us back and find you to give it back."

"I'm glad you didn't. I don't need it, trust me," Beth assured. "I'm doin' great, and I'll be sure to text you back from now on. I just found my texting app and I guess I never set it up to show me any notifications so I never checked it. I changed it now, though."

Irma sounded less and less stressed as the conversation continued, and Beth found all the questions a bit annoying but still a pleasant feeling to know someone was worried about her. Or rather, worried about _Rosie_. She tried to keep their exchange short and the details to a minimum so she could hang up, finding phone conversations to be horribly uncomfortable. As much as she loved Irma, she wasn't sure how many more overprotective questions and lectures she could take this early in the morning.

A knock came from her bedroom door, and she was both glad to have an excuse to hang up and worried what Daryl might possibly want from her. She glanced over at the contacts and contact solution sitting on her nightstand and moved to put them in as quickly as possible while still holding the phone to her ear. Another knock came from the door.

"Just a second, I'm – indecent!" She called, putting her mouth back toward the phone and speaking to Irma, "Hey, I gotta go, my roommate is at the door so I gotta see what he needs. I'll text ya later, okay?"

"Oh – okay, hon, just be careful and stay safe. Talk t'ya later," Irma said hurriedly, taking the hint.

"Okay, bye," Beth said, blinking and adjusting the second contact in her eye as she finished putting it in. She hung up the phone and tossed it on the bed, grabbing her pants from the floor and slipping them on as she rushed to the door.

When she opened it, Daryl stood before her. He wore similar clothes as she'd seen him in the night before, but there was no fresh dirt or grease on them, and he was freshly showered and shaven. He spoke casually, "Yer up. Want breakfast?"

She looked him up and down questioningly but answered, "I'm… good right now. Thanks."

He nodded and Beth looked past him to see Malachi rustling around in the kitchen.

"Heard ya talkin' to somebody. Did I interrupt?" He asked.

She shook her head, lying, "Nah, I was just talkin' to - my brother. On the phone. He was just checkin' on me."

This seemed to make sense to Daryl and he nodded, explaining, "Well we're headin' out for the day after we eat. I'll leave a plate in the microwave if ya get hungry. I'll stop at the store on my way home tonight."

Beth nodded, unsure of why he was telling her this but guessing that he felt like he owed her for cooking the night before. She didn't know what else to say, suddenly finding herself feeling awkward in front of him, so she answered, "Cool."

Daryl raised his eyebrows as if he were expecting more, "Need anythin'?

She shook her head, knowing it was a lie but refusing to ask him to buy her anything. She would just be glad to have groceries in the kitchen. "Nah, I'm good. Thanks."

"Alright. I might be a little late since I'm stoppin' off. Think y'could do me a favor?" He asked.

Beth furrowed her brow, not expecting this. She nodded, waiting to discover what he was going to ask of her.

"Since I'm doin' the shopping," he started, reminding her that he was also doing something for her, "Carol's got a class with her daughter t'go to tonight, so she's gotta bring the kid back at six. I'll try t'be home by six-fifteen. Think ya can keep him company for a few minutes this evening?"

Beth nodded, "In that case, think you could pick me up a couple things?"

Daryl smirked, "'Course. Make a list."

He fetched the pad of paper and pen from the bar of the kitchen and brought it to her, then walked away to finish helping Malachi eat as well as grabbing a quick bite for himself. Beth turned back in to her bedroom and sat down on the bed, writing out a list of all the things she could think of that she needed from the store. She wrote down all the toiletries she lacked, deciding against adding any grocery requests of her own. She had faith that Daryl would pick out plenty of ingredients that she could work with during all her free time cooped up inside. But then a thought occurred, and she knew it wasn't really like her to want such a thing, but she excused it by telling herself that she was just being Rosie now because it was too dangerous to be the same old Beth. At the very bottom of her list, she scrawled in her curvy handwriting, " _Peach Schnapps."_

She realized he'd need money to buy these things for her, and she wasn't quite sure what prices in the city were like nowadays, or if the extra fifty dollars she'd given him the other day would suffice. She glanced out the open bedroom door, seeing Daryl's back as he moved about the kitchen. He seemed occupied, but she tiptoed over and swung the door mostly shut anyway, then rushed over to hurriedly retrieve some cash from the bag under her bed. Just as she was standing back up, Daryl pushed the door back open to peer inside and check that she had the list for him. She gave him a casual smile, as if she hadn't just been leaning down on the floor to pull out a wad of money, then approached him and handed back the paper and pen. He took them without a word, and she reached out once more to hand over a wad of crisp bills. He took them hesitantly, giving her a quizzical look.

"I kinda ran out of a lotta stuff, so I wanna make sure you have enough for it," she explained as he stuffed the money into his pocket and skimmed through her list.

" _Peach Schnapps_? Thought ya didn't drink?" Daryl said, looking up to meet her gaze with even more questions. But she noticed the playful smirk that was threatening to appear.

She shrugged, her cheeks heating up. "Just somethin' to help me sleep. You got a better idea?"

"Yeah, how 'bout the whiskey I already got," he gestured behind him towards the kitchen.

Beth shook her head, "It's okay, but I wanna try somethin' different. 'Sides, I don't wanna drink up all your stock."

He grunted out a half-laugh. "Right. Well, I'll find somethin' better than some damn Peach Schnapps. I can't condone somebody drinkin' that shit in my house."

Now it was her turn to laugh, but she agreed anyway, "Okay, I'll trust your judgement."

Daryl turned his head and called for Malachi, "Hey, c'mere!"

Malachi dashed over, his tiny feet nearly tripping over themselves as he stopped at his dad's side and looked up with wide, expectant eyes, "Yeah?"

The older man gestured towards Beth, who looked down at Malachi and into his big, blue eyes, "Carol's gotta bring ya home a little early tonight, and I gotta stop at the store on the way home. Rosie's gonna hang out with ya for a few minutes till I get home tonight. Okay?"

The small, blond boy nodded, staring up at Beth with a hundred unasked questions on his face. "Okay, Dad."

Beth smiled at him and turned back to Daryl, who nodded with approval and said, "Alright, cool. We'll see ya tonight then."

She was about to say "okay" and bid them goodbye, but Malachi interrupted by turning to Daryl and asking, "Um, are we – are we still gonna uh, gonna go see Mom t'day?"

A shadow crossed Daryl's face and he glanced at Beth awkwardly, who blushed and tried to look away, pretending she hadn't heard the question. He answered his son in a hushed voice, "Yes, son, don't worry 'bout it. We can talk about it later."

He nudged the toddler to walk to the front door and prepare to leave, waving at Beth as if she hadn't just witnessed that exchange. "See ya later."

She nodded and waved weakly as she watched him lead his son to the door, and she retreated inside her room and closed her own door once she knew they were on their way out. She was still blushing, the feeling of hearing something she wasn't supposed to lingering around her. Daryl already had a way of making her feel inferior; his confidence was unwavering at times and he always peered down at her like he was still trying to narrow her down as he spoke to her. But for a few seconds, she'd felt like she'd just walked in on a private, family conversation that was none of her business. And it only sparked her curiosity even more. She scolded herself for being nosey, knowing that she had no logical reason to give two shits about this guy or his past. But what else did she have to do besides obsessively check the internet news sites and her email? Even though it didn't feel good to worry about someone else's life. She was raised to mind her own business, _strictly_. And God knew she had more than enough of her own to mind.

As she drifted back over to her bed, sitting down and picking up her phone, she wondered what Malachi had meant. It was pretty obvious that they were planning on visiting his mother's grave today, but why today? Was it her birthday or something? She also wondered if she should try to avoid Daryl when he came back home. Assumedly, today would not be a very good day for him and he might be moodier than usual. The last thing Beth needed was to feel even guiltier for bothering someone who was trying to grieve in peace. Should she just thank him for doing her shopping and hide in her room for the rest of the night? That might be the safest option after all.

Within seconds, all her thoughts of Daryl and Malachi had fled from her mind as the notification she'd been waiting for finally appeared before her eyes: _One New Email from Unknown_. She eagerly clicked it and read the short message, then reread it three more times for clarity. It said:

 _Reply with your phone number. You will receive a call from a blocked number tonight at exactly 5:43 PM. If you do not answer on the second ring, we will hang up and all communications between us will be destroyed. Do not take this call in a public place. Do not use any names or personal details._

Beth quickly typed out her reply, which was simply her phone number, and hit Send. She checked the clock only to be reminded that it wasn't even eight a.m. yet. Her heart raced in her chest. What would this person want after the phone call? Would she have to meet a total stranger somewhere? What if she had to go all the way back to Washington, D.C. to find them? This could be her only chance at a new identity. She needed this paperwork just as badly as she needed to stay out of Georgia. She was basically stuck without it. How much longer could she realistically keep Daryl in the dark? He was becoming friendlier and friendlier by the day, which was something she'd never expected, but it was in such a way that if she pushed him off, she'd seem suspicious and guilty of something. He'd pick up on it eventually. But she didn't know how long she could keep up the masquerade while she was carrying the weight of life in prison on her shoulders every waking moment.

She opened up the browser on her phone and absent-mindedly checked the news sites. The national news was still in the all clear for her family's story, and there didn't appear to be any more updates from Georgia or Atlanta. No news was the best news she could hope for at the moment. It had been nearly a week and no one was taking a closer look at the missing eighteen-year-old farm girl who'd murdered a cop? _Thank God_.

* * *

Beth tried to doze for a couple hours after Daryl and Malachi had left. But she was wide awake at this point, and her mind wouldn't stop going as the time seemed to tick by slower and slower in her anticipation of 5:43. She finally conceded and got up for the day, heading to the kitchen to find the lukewarm plate of breakfast that Daryl had left for her in the microwave. She ate it and had the remaining cup of coffee, which was also just barely warm. She glanced at the dishes, but chose to leave them for later. She'd gotten a rare urge to take a relaxing bath, hoping it might help to ease her mind.

The bathtub wasn't large, but it was roomy enough that Beth found herself able to stretch out and submerge most of her body underwater. She'd helped herself to a colorful bottle of bubble bath liquid that had Spider-Man's face on the front – assumedly belonging to Malachi. She turned the bottle to face away from her as she bathed, though. The superhero's intense stare made her uncomfortable.

With the bathroom door closed, most of the sounds that drifted around the apartment during the daytime were muted. The only light she'd left on was the dim vanity bulb above the mirror, leaving the tiled room in mostly shadows. She'd never really been afraid of the dark, though. She knew that the real horrors didn't stay hidden in the darkness.

The shower curtain was pulled halfway closed, leaving her with a view of the bathroom as she leaned her head back against the edge of the tub. The warm water and calm silence slowed her heartrate and breathing, and her muscles relaxed. She shut her eyes, barely able to feel the presence of the brown contacts anymore.

At first, it had been paragraphs. There were letters and notes and entire essays of questions, what if's, how could I's. She could barely keep track of them. But then they slowed. Her mind calmed just a bit, and then just a bit more, until the paragraphs turned into sentences. And the sentences turned into simple questions. Facts. Statements. And then answers. And she knew all the answers were there. Her faith told her that if she just looked and waited, the solution would always present itself. Eventually. But then, what faith was she supposed to have left?

In her heart, she knew that it was still real. She knew that her daddy still believed and still had faith in God and everything he spoke about in the church. Yes, they were doing unspeakable things. But what choice did they have? The church wasn't a lie… it was just a cover for something that had gotten out of hand. It became a tarp that was only meant to conceal something small, but it grew bigger and wider and created more hiding spots than they'd ever thought they'd need and they just kept letting it get bigger and bigger. They never second guessed it.

It was God's plan, her daddy would say. Everything happens for a reason. You just gotta keep your faith. She repeated these things to herself over and over. She firmly believed in everything they discussed at church each Sunday. But where was God when her faithful family needed help the most? She'd prayed for them to have a way out one day. _Somehow_ , she told herself, _we'll make it out of all this and then it'll just be a distant memory. God will give Daddy the answer he's been looking for, and we won't ever have to do anything illegal again. We won't have to worry. We won't have to keep all these secrets. Daddy has faith, so I have faith._

And then the next day, she'd go out and practice shooting guns with Maggie and Glenn. She'd gotten particularly good at target practice.

She truly believed that God was on her family's side at the end of the day. Yet she'd seen them doing so many things that would make God turn away in shame. But what _choice_ did they have?

She reached up one hand lazily, the air cold on her wet skin. Her fingers touched the ring and crucifix that hung from her neck, breathing in deeply. Would her momma still want her to have faith, after all the hellfire that had been brought down upon their family? She'd had the same beliefs as her husband. She'd raised Beth to be good, despite all the bad things they had to do. And bless her, she tried to keep Beth as innocent as possible. It was only a matter of time once she was gone.

* * *

 _Beth was ten years old. Her body was small but her curiosity was large, and she'd gotten particularly good at sneaking around the house she'd grown up in. Sometimes it actually paid off, and she'd overhear her sixteen-year-old sister saying or doing something she wasn't supposed to, and then Beth could blackmail her all day. Or she'd catch her twelve-year-old brother cussing when Daddy just spanked him the day before for saying grown-up words – then he'd have to do her chores for a_ _ **week**_ _!_

 _But her momma kept getting after her for barging in on "adult conversations," even though she couldn't really tell the difference. She didn't understand why she couldn't listen to the adults from her church – the same ones who were working on her family's farm all day and having coffee with her daddy in the kitchen – when they'd come over for their evening meetings. She couldn't figure out what they were meeting for, because they weren't playing games or watching movies or even doing Bible Study. It wasn't many people back then, maybe a dozen or so. But they would all huddle in the living room and talk in hushed voices, some of them sounding angry. Beth was certain they were sharing secrets, maybe even talking trash on the kids. Or were they talking about sex stuff? She wondered if they knew that she was aware of more than they'd intended when it came to "making love." She'd found some of Maggie's Cosmopolitan magazines under her bed._

 _Tonight, though, the voices of her neighbors and family's friends were more strained than usual. She'd found a small, shadowed spot in the hallway where she could see most of the group, as well as hear them distinctly. She was supposed to be upstairs in bed, as she had been for the last two hours. But she could never get to sleep, especially when she heard the front door opening and closing repeatedly downstairs. She couldn't stop herself from sneaking downstairs and silently hiding in the hall._

 _Maggie was there, which seemed really unfair. Beth almost scoffed aloud but stopped herself when she spotted Shawn amongst the group, sitting close to their daddy. Anger boiled up inside her and she wanted to ask her parents why the_ _ **hell**_ _Maggie and Shawn got to be in on the secret meeting while_ _ **she**_ _was supposed to be in bed. But after a few minutes, she realized the faces of her siblings were pale and full of dread, and all the adults amongst them were staring at Hershel intently, completely straight-faced and serious, some of them fidgeting nervously as they all discussed something Beth couldn't comprehend. She wouldn't understand the contents of this particular conversation for years to come._

 _Maggie was always strong and brave. Beth had relied on her for that strength for years. The brunette had resented her baby sister at first, hesitant towards the idea of her beloved Daddy marrying a woman that was not her mother and would never be her mother, adopting a son that wasn't his, and then making a new baby girl with said not-mother. But as the years passed, Maggie grew out of it, and she grew attached to the little, blonde sister who followed her everywhere and idolized her every movement. None of them acted like half-siblings or step-family. They were all family, and that's all that mattered. But right now, the strong, confident brunette looked like she was questioning everything she knew about her family's convictions._

 _Shawn stood nearby, looking confused. Patricia, who'd been around for as long as Beth could remember, was kneeling down to the small boy's height and mouthing quiet words to him – words that Beth couldn't hear over her daddy's stern voice._

 _She'd heard her daddy talk about things she didn't understand a lot of times, but right now, the sentences were so random and complex that all she knew was that something called "the product" was really, really important. And there was a lot of talk about some kind of "growth." She tried to remember to look up a word called "discretion" in the Dictionary later, when she was back in her room. Her daddy used it a lot, and she couldn't recall learning it in Sunday School, regular school, or at church._

 _Her momma was there, too, sitting across from Hershel but leaning in closest to him. She looked like she wasn't enjoying hearing what Hershel was saying, but she knew it had to be said. Kind of like when she'd punish one of the kids. But somehow, Beth could sense it was a lot more serious._

" _We, uh…" Her daddy let out a loud, heavy sigh. He sounded exhausted. "We just have no other option. Without this income, we'd have to sell all the livestock, includin' the horses, and lay off mostly everyone. I may as well sell most of the land at that point. And when that happens, I can't guarantee who will have it and what they'll do to us… We owe too many people, legally and otherwise. Some of them might come after us in ways I never foresaw. But we can work until we pay them back, we can slowly wean ourselves away from them. We can continue. Discreetly. Quietly. Without incident. This doesn't have to get out of hand. If nothin' else happens, we should be able to earn enough profit to slip completely outta the whole things by the time Beth graduates high school."_

 _A man's voice interrupted – it was Otis, his voice low but heated, "That's eight_ _ **years**_ _from now, Hershel."_

 _Hershel sighed again. Beth's muscles were tight as she picked up on the tense energy emanating from the room. Her daddy's stern voice didn't help to relax her._

" _I know. It's not ideal, I know this. But we don't really… have a choice. The church is providing enough cover for now, no one suspects any of us. We can keep laying low. We can keep working, just like we have been. I'll deal with the people, the politics of it – I just have to ask you all to be patient," his voice grew softer. "I have to ask y'all to have faith in God and His plan. This will keep us alive, keep our families safe in the homes we've raised them in all their lives… We can keep each other safe. No matter what, we're risking our_ _ **lives**_ _: whether it be risking homelessness, or-or risking our entire livelihoods, our_ _ **children's futures**_ _– this is just one more risk, and we have to take it. Otherwise, everything we've done up to this point will have been for nothing. We will be… right back to square one."_

 _No one said another word. They were all looking around at each other, seemingly exchanging meaningful glances and conversing with facial expressions._

 _Beth had been so distracted by the changes in Shawn's expression, as well as the blank stare on Maggie's face, that she hadn't even realized her momma was staring right at her. Annette had spotted Beth amongst the shadows in the hall, and before Hershel or anyone else could say another word, she got to her feet silently and slipped away from the group to leave the living room. Beth made eye contact with her very angry mother for only a second before she felt a strong pinch on her ear and she was being pulled away from her hiding spot and back up the stairs. Voices continued to come from the living room, but they were getting fainter and fainter as Beth's mother guided her upstairs and back to her bedroom, mumbling angrily the whole way._

" _Beth, what have I told you about eavesdropping? Curiosity killed the cat," her momma scolded, standing and waiting patiently as Beth crawled back into bed and under the covers._

" _Then how come Shawn and Maggie get t'be there?! Why am I the only one bein' left out?" Beth cried, absolutely anguished at the lack of inclusion._

 _Her momma sat down on the edge of her bed, looking down at Beth sternly. Her eyes were still soft, but she spoke in a way that Beth knew not to talk back or give her attitude, because this was very, very serious. "Bethy, I need you to listen to me very carefully… Whatever you heard in there is not to leave this house. We have a very special, very secret plan. It is God's plan, Beth. Your daddy and I are working very hard to keep you and Shawn and Maggie safe. They were in there because we had stuff for them to do… like chores. You don't want more chores, do you?"_

 _Beth shook her head, taking in every word her momma said._

" _And I don't want to give you more chores. But you eavesdropped, and you stayed up past bedtime, so now I have to give you one very important chore. And that chore is not to talk about anything you heard in there, not to anyone. You have to keep a secret. If you do tell someone – like a friend at school, or a teacher – some very bad people will come and take me and Daddy away. You don't want that, do you?"_

 _Once again, Beth shook her head._

 _Her momma nodded. "Good. Neither do we. It's just church stuff, okay? You'll find out someday, after you get too big for Sunday School. Just like Shawn. Now say your prayers and go to sleep. We have a lot of cleaning up to do tomorrow, and we need your help."_

 _Beth nodded, and even though she had been told something that she was too young to fully understand, she felt like she finally had an important role in her family. She relaxed as her momma tucked her in and kissed her on the forehead, whispering, "Goodnight, baby girl."_

 _For some reason, this memory had stuck, and Beth couldn't describe how she had known that everything was different after that night. Maybe it was the feeling in the air on the farm. Maybe it was the look on her daddy's face most days after that. But something big had changed._

 _It didn't take long for her to begin learning the real, full truth. But by then, it was just their way of life. It was how she was raised. Who was she to question her parents and their method of keeping the family fed and thriving? She had just as much to lose as the rest of them. Maggie helped her learn this, and so did Shawn… in a way. Maggie reminded her, over and over, how they "all had jobs to do."_

 _But Maggie also reminded her not to be willing to give_ _ **anything**_ _up easily. Just like their parents._

* * *

The bath helped to sufficiently calm Beth's nerves and she emerged feeling relaxed and clear-headed. Her hand was itching to write more than ever, but she shook off the sensation. She slipped on her last set of clean clothes and silently wondered how she hadn't thought to look for a sign of a washer or dryer in the apartment. But she hadn't seen a possible place for either of those, so she wondered how Daryl washed their laundry. She decided to ask him later, after he got home.

She still had a couple hours to kill before she'd be sitting next to the phone, waiting for the mysterious call. Lying on the bed, she went through her usual routine of scrolling through the news sites and checking her email. She also checked for any new texts, just in case Irma decided to check up on her again. When she found nothing new, she reached beneath the pillow and felt for the gun, then the pocket watch, and then she slid the photo out. It looked the same as it had the night before, but seeing her parents' faces sent a warm sensation through her body. For just a second, she felt close to them again.

In an effort to pass the time, Beth wandered into the living room and turned on the TV. She flipped through the channels, finding mostly commercials. She paused for a moment on the news stations, but saw nothing of interest and – thankfully – nothing related to her case. She ended up leaving it on a channel that was playing a rerun of _The Office_ , and zoned out as the minutes passed by and the commercials repeated themselves.

She snapped back to attention once the clock began nearing 5:30. By that point, the time was dragging, and she gripped the phone in her hand, glancing at it every few seconds. She turned the volume down on the TV until it was nearly muted. The seconds ticked by, her eyes focused on the small screen.

5:40. 5:41. 5:42.

And then it was 5:43. She held her breath. Seconds later, the phone vibrated.

Once. Twice. She pressed Answer with a shaky finger and held the phone up to her ear.

"Hello?"

"What is your name?" The voice on the other end was deep and otherworldly – most likely belonging to a voice changing device.

Beth swallowed despite the desert that had become of her mouth. She said the first answer that came to mind, "Rosie."

"Good," the voice replied simply. "We've been expecting your call. We saw the news. How many days has it been now?"

She hesitated, "Why does that matter?"

"Exactly," the mystery person said, as if they'd been testing her. "Your _sibling_ taught you well. How far north did you go?"

Beth paused again, trying to answer vaguely while silently praying she wouldn't give the wrong reply, "Past D.C."

For the first time, the voice on the other end hesitated, then, "Is it a large city? Does anyone know of your presence?"

"Yes. And no," she lied, her heart racing

"Good. I'm assuming you need paperwork," they said.

"Yes. To leave – "

"Yes, I know," they interrupted her. "Don't say any more. We have someone there. You will receive another call later tonight. You will receive the exact time of that call shortly. Do not speak of this to anyone. If we feel anything has been risked, we will abort all communication attempts."

"Understood," was all Beth could think to say. There was a knot in her throat that wouldn't go away.

She was expecting more words, more instructions, but when the silence lasted for more than a few seconds, she pulled the phone away from her ear to find that the call had ended. The call log told her that the entire exchange had lasted less than thirty seconds.

The last fifteen minutes of solitude went by too fast for Beth's liking. She was brimming with questions, repeatedly refreshing her email as she searched for the time of the next phone call. But the voice hadn't specified when the email might arrive, and before she knew it, the clock read 6:04 and a loud knock at the front door was interrupting her thoughts.

She jumped a little, then remembered what time it was and the conversation she'd had with Daryl that morning. Before she could stand up from the couch, phone still in her hand, the doorknob jiggled and Beth could hear the sounds of a key being inserted and the door being opened from the outside.

A tall, older woman entered with Malachi close behind her. The toddler seemed eager to get inside the apartment, happily running to his toy box across the room. He breezed past Beth, who stood feet away from the front door, having stopped to see if the neighbor lady needed help with anything. The older woman looked up, and Beth saw that she had short, graying hair, even shorter than Beth's own hair. She was tall and slender, her eyes bright and lively, and she had a pleasant smile on her face. She looked like she was around Daryl's age, maybe ten or fifteen years older, but perhaps she'd experienced a hard life and aged a little quicker than some. She appeared nice, though, and Beth attempted a warm smile in her direction. In response, the older woman looked her up and down, much more blatantly than even Daryl had.

"You're the new roommate?" She asked, holding out her hand in offering once she'd set down Malachi's bag and jacket. "I'm Carol, I live in 3B."

Beth took it, shaking her hand. The older woman had a strong grip, and her eyes seemed to be studying Beth's face for any signs of guilt. She tried to understand – this woman had a fairly close relationship with Daryl and his son, obviously, so she probably worried about them. But that didn't change how scrutinized Beth felt.

"I'm Rosie, nice to meet you," she replied, still smiling in what she hoped was a warm way, pulling her hand back to her side. She tried to speak a little more clearly in a weak attempt to disguise her accent. She'd noticed how being around Daryl was causing her to mimic his thick accent, but she'd hoped to get rid of it completely during her time in the city. Or at least, as much of it as she could.

"I'm from Georgia, too. What part did you come from?" Carol asked, startling Beth.

 _How the hell - maybe she's mistaken_ , she told herself, quickly coming up with a lie. "Oh, I'm – uh, I'm actually from Alabama. Maybe Daryl mistook what I told him – "

"Oh, no, he didn't tell me anything about you. I guessed from your accent. My mistake," the older woman said, but her face was telling Beth a different story. Carol's light blue eyes studied Beth intently, squinting as she pursed her mouth into a thin line. She had the look of disapproval, but Beth wasn't sure exactly what she'd done to disappoint this stranger. Had Daryl _really_ not told her anything? Or was he telling her bad things?

"Um, it's really nice to finally meet you," Beth said, unsure of what else to say. She felt like she was sucking up, so she glanced over her shoulder to see Malachi occupied by a toy as he played on the floor. She looked back to Carol, who was still studying her.

"You, too," the older woman put a smile on her face that seemed almost forced and Beth wondered if her own face had turned completely red yet, because that's how it felt. "Sophia and I have a meeting tonight so I have to get going. I'll see you soon."

Her last words weren't exactly casual as she waved goodbye to Malachi from the doorway before turning and leaving, and Beth mumbled a goodbye as she moved to close the front door. Just before she shut it, she caught a glimpse of a little girl standing in the hallway. The small girl couldn't have been older than eight or nine, and she looked like a smaller version of Carol with long hair. Beth guessed that was Sophia as she locked the door back up and returned to the living room.

For a second, Beth wondered where Carol and Sophia were actually going, because she noticed that Daryl had called it a "class" and Carol had called it a "meeting." But she quickly reminded herself that it was none of her business and it didn't affect her anyway.

Malachi seemed to be content playing by himself for the time being, and Beth watched the clock as well as the email on her phone. Nearly ten minutes passed before the toddler got bored and needed to vocalize his thoughts. He wandered over to the couch where she sat, waiting for her to acknowledge him. She looked back into his big, blue eyes, one of his toys still clutched in his hand.

"D'you got a mom?" He blurted, and Beth almost laughed out loud. He had a knack for asking completely random questions.

She nodded, a faint smile on her lips despite the thoughts that were nagging at the back of her mind. "Of course I do. Everybody has a mom."

"Oh," Malachi answered, his eyes drifting down to the carpet as he appeared to be deep in thought. Then he said, "Yeah, guess so. My mom um, she uh – lives in the ground. We're gonna go see 'er."

Beth's smile disappeared but she tried not to show it, nodding her head and hoping he'd get bored with the subject. But he seemed to be thinking about his mom quite a bit today.

"How come?" She asked softly, unsure if he'd even understand the question, let alone answer it coherently.

"Um… she left. Dad said. Today," he mumbled in broken sentences, suddenly distracted by the toy in his hand. His attention drifted away from Beth, and she pursed her lips to stop herself from asking any more.

The small, blond boy didn't seem to have any other burning questions for Beth today, and he wandered off to dig another toy from the box and begin playing on the floor again. She watched him silently, anticipating Daryl's arrival. She kept refreshing her email every minute or so, but there was still nothing showing up.

The front door unlocked and opened at 6:22 and Daryl entered the apartment, multiple grocery bags hanging from his arms and hands as he juggled his keys and helmet at the same time. Beth stood up and rushed to help him, trying to take as many bags as she could to free his hands. They managed to get everything into the kitchen and onto the counter with a grunt from Daryl. As soon as he'd set everything down, he turned and walked right back to the front door, grabbing Malachi's jacket from where it hung on the rack.

"Mal, let's go!" He called.

Beth watched from across the bar as Daryl completely ignored her, not even mumbling a hello or goodbye, and helped his son slip into his jacket before leading him out the front door. Within seconds, the apartment was silent again, leaving Beth with piles of groceries to put away.

She began opening bags and digging out the contents. As she sorted through the groceries, opening cabinets and cupboards and the fridge and freezer, she thought she heard a noise from her phone. She told herself she was hearing things because she was anticipating it so much, but checked nonetheless. To her surprise, the screen showed that she had a new email from Unknown.

 _2:27 AM._

The message said nothing else. She glanced at the time, even though she'd been doing that all night. It was only 6:25.

This was going to be a long eight hours.

* * *

It only took about an hour and a half for Beth to put away all the groceries, prepare a meal, and clean up the dishes. She even had time to sort through the toiletries she'd requested, which she stashed in empty spots around the bathroom. She watched the front door expectantly, but there was no sign of Daryl and Malachi. She heard footsteps and faint voices in the hall at one point, and figured Carol and Sophia must've just gotten home. But then it was silent again, and the sun had set. Beth wondered how long Daryl would stay out past dark with such a young kid. But then she glanced at the magnet calendar on the freezer and remembered that it was Friday, and the first day of September as well. She wondered what significance this day held for Daryl and Malachi. The toddler said "she left." And Daryl seemed distracted. It had to be the anniversary of the nameless, blonde woman's death. That was the only logical answer.

But Beth reminded herself once again that she had plenty of her own to worry about. She covered all the food to keep it warm and sat down at the table with her plate to eat alone. The TV was still on at a low volume, and she gazed at it from her seat without really seeing it. She didn't have much of an appetite anymore, but she managed to push down the small portions she'd gotten for herself.

When that was finished, she set her plate in the sink and wandered to the glass bottle of clear liquid sitting on the countertop. She'd taken it from the bags and set it aside, but she hadn't looked at it closely. Now that she was, she saw that it was some kind of Moonshine. She wondered if Daryl expected her to drink this. She knew it probably wasn't dangerous since it was sold in stores, but she still couldn't forget how her daddy had once told her that drinking bad moonshine can make you go blind. She read through the ingredients list but it was mostly full of words she didn't understand.

There was still no sign of the boys, so she shut off the TV and retired to her bedroom. It was past Malachi's bedtime and Beth wondered how far they'd had to travel. She changed back into her lounging pants and relaxed on the bed, scrolling through her phone absent-mindedly right after setting an alarm for 2:20 a.m. Her bedside lamp was currently the only light on in the apartment.

About a half hour passed before she heard the sounds of the front door unlocking and opening and she perked up from where she lay. She watched light appear from the crack under her door, and then shadows dancing as Daryl and Malachi moved about the kitchen and hall. Their voices were muffled, and she half-expected one of them to knock on her door any minute. But they didn't. It seemed that they were helping themselves to dinner from the sounds of dishes clinking together. And after that, their footsteps wandered from the kitchen down the hall, disappearing inside their shared bedroom. Then the apartment was silent again.

Beth thought that would be the last she'd hear from them for the rest of the night, and she resumed scrolling through news articles on the small screen of her phone. She reached over and turned off the lamp, hoping for even a few minutes of rest before she'd be interrogated again via phone. As she set her phone down on the nightstand, plugging it into the charger, she heard the sounds of footsteps in the bathroom next door, followed by the bathtub faucet being turned on.

She lay on her side, staring at the clock with her left ear buried in the pillow and her right ear listening to the sounds of Daryl in the bathroom, only a wall away from her. It sounded like he'd decided to take a bath before going to sleep. The sound of the faucet eventually stopped, and then there was silence again. A few minutes later, the distinct sound of the bathroom vent being turned on came through the wall. Beth watched the minutes slowly pass on the alarm clock, wishing it would move faster. She tried to let herself be lulled to sleep by the idle bathroom noises, but it wasn't helping her drift off.

She could've sworn she heard some sort of low grunts, or mumbles. She couldn't tell if he was moaning or weeping, or possibly even laughing. She wasn't even sure if he had the ability to cry. It was none of her business anyway. She just hoped that she hadn't been unintentionally listening in on him jerking off or something.

Then a familiar smell drifted in under her door, or maybe it was making its way through the vents or through the wall? Beth wasn't sure, but it was permeating the air somewhat heavily now. It smelled like a skunk at first, but then it didn't. She hadn't smelled it in a while, but it was one of the most recognizable aromas in existence: marijuana smoke. Now she knew exactly what he was doing in the bathroom.

She couldn't blame him, though. She'd probably share a joint if someone offered her right now. She didn't think Daryl was the kind of guy to smoke pot, so she had never guessed he'd have any in his possession. He seemed like the overprotective, paranoid dad. Then again, it was Friday night, and after being here for a couple of days, this was the first time she'd smelled it. So maybe this was just how he celebrated his weekend.

The stench of weed was riling up some old, less-than-favorable memories in Beth's head. She pushed them away, listening to Daryl's footsteps next door. The smell was slowly fading, but it still left a stagnant emotion in her chest. She could hear the bathroom door being opened and shut once more, but the vent was left on. She focused on the steady _whirr_ of its motor as she closed her eyes.

As hard as she tried, from steadying her breathing to counting sheep, she couldn't get herself to doze off. She opened her eyes and continued staring at the clock. She rehearsed the upcoming phone call in her mind as midnight approached and the darkness seemed to get heavier around her. Finally, her muscles grew restless, and she sat up with a defeated sigh. She pulled the phone from its charger once more and shoved it into the pocket of her baggy pants, then quietly opened her bedroom door and peeked out into the hallway.

The vent was still going in the bathroom, but everything was dark. The only light was coming from the dim bulb above the stove in the kitchen. The bedroom at the end of the hall was dark, and the door sat half-open. She tiptoed out across the hall and into the kitchen, using the stove light to navigate her way. She eyed the bottle of moonshine and picked it up carefully, then turned around to fetch a glass from the other side of the kitchen. She stopped suddenly, though, when she spotted a dark mass in her peripheral vision. She set down the bottle on the counter and moved to the side, squinting for a better look. She quickly realized it was Daryl sitting on the couch in the living room.

She wondered why he was still up this late, sitting alone in the dark. She glanced back at the bottle, then to Daryl. She took a deep breath and stepped gingerly into the living room, approaching him slowly and carefully. He didn't move, but she could tell that he heard her.

"Told ya it's too late fer another story. Go back to bed," Daryl's deep voice cut through the darkness and startled Beth, stopping her in her tracks.

"I didn't even get a story," she mumbled, hoping to ease the tension that hung around the couch.

He turned his head now, and she couldn't quite see his face in the shadows, but he seemed surprised to see her. She'd thought he'd known it was her, but apparently he'd been expecting Malachi. He shook his head and looked away from her again, mumbling, "Thought you were the kid."

She shrugged, although he wasn't watching. "I know. Sorry, didn't mean t'sneak up on ya… That bottle in there for me?"

She saw his head move in a nodding motion in the dim light that leaked from the kitchen, but she'd been hoping for a verbal reply. She wasn't sure why. A part of her didn't want to drink alone just yet. Another part was shamelessly nosey and wanted to know all the juicy details about the woman who could turn this tough-as-nails man into a depressed, moping heap. And another part, still, recognized an aching soul and wanted to reach out desperately for the human connection that she silently craved.

Instead, she pursed her lips and swallowed back her words. Turning back towards the kitchen, she crept across the carpet and tile and returned to the bottle. She took her time opening it, finding an appropriate glass, and pouring herself a small drink. As she was closing the bottle back up, Daryl's quiet voice spoke up from the couch.

"Pour me one."

It was mumbled and coming from the other side of the living room, but the apartment was so quiet that Beth could understand him perfectly. She smirked to herself, quietly relieved to have someone to try this new drink with, and retrieved another glass. She poured more of the liquid for Daryl, then added a bit more to her glass to match. She carried the two glasses to the couch carefully, holding one out and letting the older man take it from her hand. She tried not to look as awkward as she felt when she sat down on the couch, leaving a few feet of space between them.

He didn't say another word or make any noise. She could faintly hear him sipping the moonshine, and she followed his lead by taking a tentative sip of her own. She winced and cringed at the taste, nearly gagging. Her nose and throat burned slightly, but she fought down the noises of disgust that she wanted to make. She could almost swear her head was already beginning to swim.

"Little strong. But it's better than Peach Schnapps," he mumbled, his voice low and sleepy.

She nodded silently, sitting with her legs tucked beneath her, both hands gripping the glass. She stared at him through the darkness, his features becoming clearer as her eyes adjusted to the low light. He'd leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and back slightly hunched. He held his glass in one hand, while the other was stroking his goatee. She watched him move from one nervous habit to another as he proceeded to chew on the end of his thumb thoughtfully. His eyes were staring out into nothing, and Beth recognized that look as being lost in his own thoughts.

"Thanks for pickin' up that stuff," she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. Daryl only nodded.

Beth took another sip, finding it easier to swallow this time. She began to think moonshine might be an acquired taste, like most alcohol seemed to be. Her eyes drifted to the coffee table a few feet away, where she spotted the photo album from the bottom shelf of the bookcase. It was lying closed, but she guessed that Daryl had been looking through it and reminiscing in the dark. Beth wanted to ask him about her, but she was afraid of upsetting him.

A few minutes passed in total silence. They sat on the couch together, sipping peacefully and staring off at nothing in particular. She still had another two hours before she had to worry about the phone call, but she was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She wasn't sure that Daryl necessarily wanted her in the living room right now, or sitting near him. She thought she might've interrupted a solitary moment without thinking to ask if her presence was welcomed.

Deciding to go back to her room and pass the time, she stood up, empty glass in hand. She didn't say anything, assuming he'd prefer the silence. Just as she turned to step away, his voice stopped her.

"Can you… stay?"

She turned back around to look down at him. He still wasn't looking at her, but she knew he could see her in his peripherals. She gripped her glass tighter, then nodded silently. Somehow, his blank expressions were telling her everything that she needed to know right now.

She reached her hand out and he placed his empty glass in her waiting palm. She turned and headed back to the kitchen, pouring them each another drink. Then they were sitting feet apart on the couch again, drinking quietly while both their minds raced.

A single question itched in her throat, begging to come out. It was on the tip of her tongue as she stared at Daryl, and she took another sip of moonshine to try to wash it down. But it stayed, and even though she was pretty sure she knew the answer, she just wanted confirmation. She didn't have the guts to ask him exactly what he was thinking about, but she could at least get an idea.

"Was today… the anniversary? Of her…?" She couldn't finish the question once it started coming out. She couldn't seem to think of any other word besides 'death,' but that felt inappropriate to speak aloud right now. She studied Daryl's expression through the darkness, finding it unchanged.

"Yeah," he grunted. And that was it. He didn't try to say anything else, and she didn't try to ask any more.

She leaned back into the couch, sipping slowly. Her head was definitely swimming now, but she'd gone back to thinking about the phone call that was coming. Daryl's voice startled her out of her thoughts when he abruptly broke the silence.

"Never really… _needed_ her. But… gets lonely sometimes," he mumbled, staring down into the glass in his hands.

Beth nodded. She understood, and she knew he wasn't looking for assurance or sympathy or even an answer. Sometimes it's just nice to know you're not as alone as you thought. She didn't have to vocalize it. They could both tell that the other was thinking something similar. For the first time since she'd met him, Beth was beginning to think she understood Daryl. At least in a way.

They sat like that for a long time. Beth wondered if he was even going to sleep tonight. Meanwhile, her eyelids were getting heavier and heavier by the minute. The quiet was nice, and it was something they could both appreciate and share without speaking. But with the addition of moonshine, Beth was finding it difficult to stay awake. The sounds of the city drifted in through the windows, one of them opened just a crack to let in the nighttime chill. The sirens and car horns were becoming a lullaby to Beth's ears.

She was brought back to attention by Daryl's voice, speaking up for the first time in over an hour. It sounded strange now, and she tried to blink her eyes to clear her vision. The clock below the TV read 1:36.

"I shoulda… done more. Done _anything_. And I… didn't," Daryl grumbled, barely making any sense to Beth. It was more like he was thinking out loud without realizing that he was actually talking.

She tried to put the pieces together, but her weary brain simply couldn't, so she just nodded. There was a longer story here, and it was something that couldn't be explained through a handful of old photos. She sensed the guilt he carried, but she couldn't quite figure out the reason for it.

He looked over and saw her hooded eyes, making direct eye contact for the first time tonight. She felt like she had something to say in return, but decided against it. Maybe he just needed someone to say these things to. Some people didn't want to talk _about_ it, they just wanted to _talk_ about it. Daryl seemed like that kind of guy.

But his eyes said something different, as he stared back intently at her. She swallowed and licked her lips, preparing to speak for the first time in a while. Her voice cracked a bit and came out quiet, "I know what you mean."

She hadn't meant to say it. Her mind was filling with images of the night her mother and brother were murdered violently, and the night the rest of her family was arrested and taken to prison. She had guilt, too. But she hadn't meant to share it with Daryl. She pursed her lips and willed herself to stay quiet, looking away from his intense gaze.

"You do… huh?" He mumbled, putting more weight behind the words than normal, then lifted his glass to his lips and drained what was left of his drink. Beth hoped she wasn't being as transparent as she felt at the moment. But what was that old saying? "Misery loves company…"?

She decided to stand up, slowly at first. Her legs were nearly asleep and she had to stretch for a few seconds before she could walk to the kitchen and place her empty glass next to the sink. She glanced at Daryl on the couch one more time, giving him a chance to speak up or ask her to sit back down. But he looked like he was preparing to get up and go lie in bed, and her own bed was calling to her. Even though she needed to be wide awake soon.

Beth sat up in bed, resting her back against the wall, and watched the time change on the alarm clock for the next hour. She'd shut her door tightly, but she could still see Daryl's shadow pass by as he headed down the hallway to his bedroom at exactly 2:02. She was still wondering what he felt guilty about, and what kind of things were keeping him up late at night. It was hard to refrain from being curious. She told herself she shouldn't care about this guy's story or cliché tragic past or whatever it may be, no matter what. But that was a lot easier said than done.

At 2:19, she silenced her alarms and let 2:20 come and go in peace. Her phone was fully charged and gripped in both hands as she sat upright in bed, staring at the screen and waiting for the minutes to pass. It felt like another eternity, and she couldn't remember ever waiting by a phone like this for anything before. But then again, she'd never been in a situation like this before.

Within the first ten seconds of 2:27, the phone began vibrating in her hands. Its screen lit up, displaying a call from Blocked once again. On the second vibration, she pressed Answer and put the phone up to her ear. She tried to speak quietly, hoping that Daryl wouldn't hear her from his bedroom.H

"Hello?"

"Rosie," they said. It was the same voice changing device from earlier.

"Yes," Beth replied.

"You will be given an address, a day, and a time. These will be three separate calls. This is the first. Are you ready to know the first detail?" They spoke quickly but clearly.

She had already rushed out to grab a piece of paper and a pen from the kitchen, prepared to write down the information. So she answered, "Yes."

"Sunday, September third," the person said. "Your next phone call will be at random. Be. Ready." Then they hung up.

Beth scribbled down, _Sunday 9/3_. She set the phone back down on the nightstand and sighed. She had to wait for two more phone calls? At random times?

She definitely wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** In honor of being nominated for 2 Moonshine Awards this year, I spent all day writing an extra-long chapter. I want to dedicate this to everyone who's been reviewing along the way and sticking with me on this weird journey: **GracieMae11** , **Bethylove67** , **Hasick** , **benevolent01** , **Elodie Grimmesey** , and **Atilia Dawn Black**. I appreciate everyone who's given this a read, and I truly hope I'm keeping you as enthralled in this story as I am! Don't forget to go vote for your favorite fics in the 2017 Moonshine Awards, and I hope you'll consider this fic for Best Work In Progress as well as my smut fic, "Yellow Bikini" for Best Smut. Thank you all again for reading, and don't forget to let me know what you think!


	13. sidewalks, running away from the streets

_**sidewalks, running away from the streets we knew**_

Saturday morning came quickly, but it didn't feel like a Saturday to Beth. Then again, none of the days had been feeling the way they were supposed to lately. Not even her birthday had felt the same this year. Everything had been different since springtime.

She barely slept through the night. That was a given, though, considering she had to wait up and fight off sleep so she wouldn't miss the other two phone calls. She'd dozed off here and there before the second call came around 4 a.m., but then she was lying wide awake, waiting patiently, when the third call came sometime near 6:30. Now she was lying in bed, no longer sleepy, staring at the piece of paper that sat on her nightstand.

Once she'd gotten the information from all three phone calls, the note read:

 _Sunday 9/3  
stand on the NW corner of W 134th & Malcolm X Blvd  
8:45 PM, look for 5 flashes at 8:43_

She'd spent another half hour huddled under the covers, phone gripped in her hand as she looked up the exact address on the GPS and mapped out her route. She almost wanted to ask Daryl for a ride, since he wouldn't be working, but then she told herself that would be too risky and would pose too many questions. He'd probably be busy anyway. He always seemed to be busy.

The three calls had ended up being like puzzle pieces that she had to put together just for the chance to meet a stranger. She wasn't sure what would happen or what kind of place she'd be going to, but she knew she had to be ready for anything. It set her nerves on end to have no idea what she was walking into. She guessed she'd have to look for flashes of light coming from wherever she was supposed to meet the mystery person, and then get there in two minutes to meet said person. She wondered how dangerous the neighborhood would be and if she should bring the gun and have it ready to use. But it wouldn't make her situation any better if she actually ended up having to use it, even if it was in self-defense.

The apartment remained silent well past 7 a.m. This was surprising because Beth had begun to get used to Daryl and Malachi's weekday schedule. She had to remind herself that it was the weekend, and this would mean a couple days of sharing the apartment with the boys during the day. Maybe she could hide in her room and catch up on the sleep she'd missed last night? But knowing her body, that would only mean she'd be up all night and unable to sleep, and then she'd be exhausted come Sunday.

She felt a headache coming on and decided to get up, dressing in the clothes she'd barely worn the day before and running a brush through her short hair to tidy it up. She hadn't put on her shoes in about two days, but she was using up the few pairs of socks she owned. She opened her bedroom door to find an undisturbed, sunlit apartment.

It was cloudy outside, so the sun coming through the windows wasn't quite as bright as usual. One of the windows was still open a crack and Beth could smell rain in the air, but it was fleeting. The sky looked like it could either darken and open up to a thunderstorm, or it could clear up in a couple hours and be sunny and clear once again. Only time would tell.

Beth dug around the cabinets and found the coffee, figuring out Daryl's coffeemaker within seconds. Moments later, the smell of brewing coffee was drifting through the kitchen and into the hall, and she was pulling out pans and dishes as well as eggs and packaged bacon. The prospect of a real, home-cooked breakfast excited her. She missed Irma's cooking more than she'd thought she would.

To her delight, Daryl had stocked up on all kinds of necessary food ingredients – including pancake and waffle mix. She started to marvel at the fact that he had managed to carry such a large haul up so many stairs. Her mouth was already watering as she dug around in a lower cabinet and pulled out a griddle pan – a part of her was amazed that Daryl, the single dad, owned a griddle pan. She began mixing ingredients and setting out plates, her hands busy but her ears perked for any sounds. It was only a matter of time before the boys would smell the coffee and bacon and crawl out of their beds.

Despite her nerves about the mysterious meeting coming up, Beth found that her appetite was back. She felt like she was starving, and she kept popping little bits of bacon into her mouth as she cooked. The apartment was full of breakfast smells at this point, a mixture of pancakes, bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, toast, and coffee.

She was just scooping up the third perfect pancake she'd cooked when she heard the sound of the bathroom door closing in the hall. And just as she expected, Daryl was entering the kitchen soon after. Beth didn't turn and face him at first, indulged in her cooking. She'd always been a perfectionist, especially when it came to food. Daryl was silent, his bare feet padding lightly on the tile as he approached and looked around at the array of cooking food. He seemed to spot what he wanted quickly, because he began helping himself to a mug of the coffee that was barely finished brewing.

Beth smirked to herself, but didn't say anything. She wasn't sure if his mood had changed after getting a night of sleep or not, so she figured she would let him speak first, if at all. She continued cooking in silence, but when she glanced over, she saw that he hadn't been pouring a mug for himself. He'd poured it and set it down for her, within arm's reach. As she realized this, he was finishing pouring his own mug and turning to walk away, sipping tentatively.

"Thanks," she said, a little louder than normal because she wasn't sure if he could hear her over the sizzling of the bacon. The sounds from the city were starting to get a bit noisier, too, as they drifted into the open window.

Daryl grunted in reply and continued sipping from his mug, then disappeared around the corner and down the hall.

Beth sipped her coffee and continued stacking the plate full of pancakes. Half a mug of coffee later and she had three plates laid out with an array of eggs, hashbrowns, bacon, and toast, as well as more than enough pancakes to go around. She set the table, walking back and forth from the kitchen to the dining table as she laid out butter and syrup and silverware. During one of her trips, she caught a brief flash of Malachi as he ran from the bathroom to the bedroom to join his father. She sat down at the table and began to eat, assuming they'd be joining her any minute.

She'd refilled her mug and finished it, as well as eaten most of her breakfast by the time the boys entered the room. Daryl appeared to be a little frustrated, and Beth had heard him raising his voice a couple times in the bedroom. Malachi looked upset, plopping into his seat and starting in on his meal without a word. She could only guess that he was having an attitude this morning and giving his dad a hard time, so she kept her mouth shut and stood from her chair, picking up her plate and mug. When she turned around, she realized that Daryl looked drastically different from how she'd seen him the last few days. His clothes were clean, free of grease and dirt, and his hair showed no signs of a helmet shape. He had a bit of stubble coming in on his cheeks and jawline, but he hadn't bothered with it. And surprisingly, he was wearing shorts. They hung past his knees but exposed his shins and calves, and instead of boots, he was wearing an old pair of Nikes. From the looks of it, Beth guessed that he owned exclusively black socks. His baggy T-shirt appeared to have had sleeves at one point, but they were long gone now, and whatever the logo had been on the front was too faded to decipher. She nearly laughed aloud at how much of a "weekend Dad" he looked at this moment.

Daryl took her chair once she'd stepped away, seeing as there were only two dining chairs, and sat down to his own breakfast.

"What d'you say to her for cookin' us this nice breakfast?" She heard Daryl's voice pipe up as she was walking toward the kitchen.

"Fank you!" Malachi said loudly, through a mouthful of pancakes.

"You're welcome," Beth replied softly, continuing to the kitchen, where she cleared her plate and left it in the sink.

She began working on cleaning up the mess she'd left, gathering the dirty dishes and preparing to wash them and wipe down the stove and counter. The smell of coffee and bacon still lingered in the air. Malachi's voice would drift across the apartment occasionally as he asked his dad questions and they had small conversations. A good breakfast seemed to fix whatever conflict they'd had minutes before.

Daryl entered the kitchen with his empty mug in hand, helping himself to what was left in the pot. Beth was focusing on washing the dishes, lost in her own thoughts about the phone calls and the meeting. His deep voice coming from behind her startled her back to the present, and she turned her head to look at him.

"We got a class from ten to twelve. Self-defense," he said in between sips of coffee. "Might be good for ya t'know the basics if you plan on livin' in the city. Wanna come with?"

The question caught her off-guard. She wasn't sure what she'd done to make him want to invite her along for his Saturday morning activity with his son. Did he think she was lonely, or that she was trying to earn his friendship? She hoped she wasn't sending the wrong message with what she had thought was just common courtesy.

She gave him a look that said she acknowledged his question, then furrowed her brow and turned back to the dishes, rinsing the soapy plate in her hand and placing it in the dishrack. She picked up a glass and began soaping it up, then said, "I dunno. I didn't really sleep well last night – "

She was hoping to make an excuse and get out of the awkward question altogether. A big part of her wanted to go just for the sake of getting out of the apartment for a little bit. But the rest of her was afraid that she would be taking too many risks by going out in public. Plus, she still couldn't read Daryl, so she was assuming that he was inviting her along because he felt an obligation, for some reason. Maybe he thought it was common courtesy, too, and he was just trying to return the gesture. But would he be insulted if she said no?

"I understand," he said, actually sounding somewhat disappointed. "Just thought I'd offer ya to try it. Never know when you might need to disarm a guy. City can be dangerous."

Then again, did he say self-defense?

She placed the last clean dish in the rack and turned off the faucet, turning around to face Daryl with intrigue on her face. She shrugged casually, "So you're sayin' I'll most likely get mugged while I live in this city."

He smirked jokingly, "Not if I'm with ya. But if you're alone, who's to say _what_ could happen?"

Beth chuckled and raised her eyebrows, staring into the faint sparkle she saw in his dark blue eyes, "I can kick a guy in the nuts pretty hard. That usually works."

This time, he chuckled. "That works once in a while. Not always, though."

She nodded, admitting that he made a good point. His persistence assured her that he wasn't inviting her purely out of obligation. She finally gave in, "Okay, I guess I got nothin' better t'do. But why do you go to a self-defense class? You seem like you… wouldn't really need it."

Daryl's expression didn't change, still smirking as he took a sip of coffee and answered, "I don't. I teach it."

* * *

By a quarter after nine, Beth found herself walking down the neighborhood streets of the East Village beside Daryl and his small son, whose tiny legs were working hard to keep up with the two adults. She had changed into leggings and one of her baggy shirts, leaving the jacket behind as the day was already beginning to heat up. It seemed everyone was out and about on this particular Saturday morning; they had passed through the lobby of the apartment building and Beth noticed the desk had no one behind it this morning.

She kept asking herself why she'd agreed to this as they travelled down sidewalks and crossed streets to reach their destination. She was enjoying the fresh air, but it was so bright outside, even with the clouds. What if someone recognized her? She tried to remind herself it wasn't likely, especially considering that she'd double-checked all the news sites before leaving the apartment to find zero updates on her story. Just to be safe, she'd brought her bag along as usual – stuffed full of all the money as well as the gun and pocket watch – and she'd worn her sunglasses. She wasn't sure what to expect from this class, so she'd left the gun-concealing undershirt behind for today. No matter what, though, she didn't feel safe letting the Beretta or the bag out of her sight.

Daryl assured her it was just a short walk to the small gym where he held his class each Saturday morning – only twenty minutes. He was mostly silent during the walk, allowing Malachi to babble on and on about fun facts in his head and random questions that popped up, and then just babble about nonsense. Beth listened intently at first, but after about fifteen minutes, she was tuning in and out.

They approached a small building that was nearly hidden between two other businesses. It had a glass front and looked a bit run-down, and there was no sign in sight. She wondered how Daryl remembered where it was as he pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door, opening it to usher Malachi inside first.

It was quiet and bland, the insides appearing to be the same as every other gym she'd ever seen. It was small, but had plenty of room for things like self-defense and yoga. There were five or six rolled-up mats propped up against the walls, leaving the hard, shiny floor exposed. Daryl walked over to a wall of small lockers, each with their own combination locks. He turned the numbers on one of them and opened it up, shoving his wallet, keys, and sunglasses inside. He spun around to look at Beth and gestured toward her bag.

"Wanna put yer stuff in my locker?" He offered.

She didn't really have a choice so she just nodded, slipping off her sunglasses and handing them over. The bag, however, was a different story. She had to force her own hand to give it over to Daryl, who didn't seem to understand why she was taking longer than a split-second to slide it off her shoulders. When she finally did, he took it and put it inside his locker, atop his own items.

He made a face that Beth hoped meant he was joking as he commented, "Heavy bag. What'd ya bring all that for?"

She shrugged, trying to smile like it meant nothing, "Better safe than sorry."

This seemed to suffice for him because he also shrugged and closed the locker, then headed to the far side of the small gym to begin laying out the mats. Malachi wasn't far behind, although he kept getting distracted by the toys he'd brought along, so sometimes he would wander off to the corner by himself. Beth looked around for a minute, watching cars pass by outside the big, front windows. People walked by here and there, some of them holding coffee. She wondered when the other students would show up, and who they would be.

 _I can always bail at any time_ , she told herself. _I can leave. I can just leave. It's always an option._

Reminding herself of this important detail seemed to calm her, and she walked over to the nearest mat that sat propped against the wall. She copied Daryl's movements and pulled down the mat, unrolling it and laying it out on the floor. She figured she might as well help while she was standing around.

Preparing the gym only took about ten minutes, so when they were done, they gathered close to the front door again. Beth stood and watched out the windows, wondering if the others were late. But the clock above the door said it was still a quarter to ten. When she turned to look at Daryl again, she realized he was stretching in preparation of the class. She didn't say anything, turning away and watching him exclusively through her peripherals. Thankfully, he wasn't offering to help her stretch.

A few minutes later, the first student walked in. Daryl greeted her with a friendly hug, asking her how she's been. She was Hispanic and looked no older than twenty-five, with big brown eyes and long, brown hair put up in a bouncy ponytail. She was taller than Beth and slender with prominent curves. She had full, pouty lips and seemed to be looking at Beth the same way both Daryl and Carol had at first. Beth was terrified of her. This woman had an incredibly intimidating aura, and Beth nearly tripped over her words when the older girl held out her hand for Beth to shake it.

"I'm Rosita," she said, still looking Beth up and down.

"I'm – Rosie," Beth replied, blinking hard and wondering if this girl could tell that her name wasn't _really_ Rosie. "Nice to meet you."

Rosita nodded, withdrawing her hand. "You, too. Where you from?"

Beth raised her eyebrows in surprise, but answered quickly, "Alabama. You?"

The older brunette seemed satisfied with this answer, and gave her own in return, "Texas. Welcome to the city."

Daryl was standing a few feet away, having resumed his stretches. He didn't appear to be paying any attention to the girls' exchange. Malachi had put down his toys and begun mimicking his father, but was failing comically.

"Thanks," Beth said, looking away from the other girls' eyes awkwardly.

"Sorry, Carol texted me about meeting you, that's how I knew you just moved here," Rosita explained, her expression softening just slightly. She gestured toward Daryl, lowering her voice, "It's not like _he_ tells us anything."

Beth glanced back at Daryl for a second, quickly looking away when she saw him turning toward her. She studied Rosita's face, wondering exactly what Carol had said. They'd barely exchanged ten words, but maybe she knew more about Beth than she was letting on? Or maybe she was just a judgmental bitch.

Rosita turned away and approached Malachi, greeting him happily, "Malachi!"

The blond toddler saw her and his face lit up as he ran towards her, yelling, "Ruh-zeeda!" He jumped into her open arms and let her spin him around for a moment, laughing.

She ruffled his hair as she set him back down, teasing him, "Did you get taller since last week? How much broccoli has your dad been feeding you?!"

Malachi laughed and playfully pushed her hands away, then ran back to his toys when he suddenly remembered he'd brought them.

"And I guess he won't tell you how to stretch before doing any of the stuff we're gonna do and pulling your hamstring," Rosita said, walking back over to Beth's side and speaking a little louder this time in an effort to get Daryl's attention. When he glanced at her, she gave him a mocking smile.

Beth wasn't sure why Rosita was offering to help her stretch, or why she even wanted to talk to her in the first place besides finding out if whatever dirt Carol had said was true. But she took the help nonetheless and let the older girl guide her in stretching properly to prepare her muscles for some of the things she'd be learning soon.

As they were reaching for their toes, Beth spoke up, "Uh, how d'you know Carol?"

Rosita chuckled and said, "She's usually here. We met at this class. A few of us are friends because of it. I guess her daughter's sick today so they stayed home. She's the one who had the idea to start the class in the first place."

Beth didn't know how to reply to that so she just made a sound of acknowledgement and continued stretching. Daryl hadn't mentioned that Carol was supposed to be here. Maybe that was why he'd invited Beth, so he could have a fill-in? She wondered how many of the other students in this class already knew about Beth's existence.

Over the next few minutes, more women entered the small gym. Rosita greeted each of them by name as they walked in. She continued stretching, still guiding Beth in the proper movements. By this point, they'd taken their shoes off and set them by the lockers, and the rest of the women were doing the same as they prepared to join.

"Where's Carol?" A teenaged girl with waist-length, straight, brown hair asked Rosita as she approached from the lockers. Beth remembered that Rosita had greeted her as Enid, and the girl looked like she couldn't be older than fifteen or sixteen, although she was tall for her age.

"Oh, Sophia's sick so they had to stay home," Rosita answered as she stretched an arm behind her back.

"Oh," Enid said, furrowing her brow and lowering her voice as she stopped and leaned in closer to Rosita, "Didn't they have that… _thing_ last night?"

Rosita's eyes shot over to Beth and then back to Enid, and she gave a shrug and mumbled, "I dunno. We'll talk about it later."

Enid gave her a quizzical look but then glanced at Beth and the realization dawned on her. She gave an understanding nod before turning her full attention to Beth, reaching out her hand politely as she greeted, "I'm Enid. Nice to meet you."

Beth took her small, soft hand gingerly and shook it, "I'm Rosie. Nice to meet you, too."

Enid's eyebrows rose as another realization dawned on her, "Oh, you're – Daryl's new roommate?"

Beth nodded, a bit confused at how this total stranger knew who she was, as well. "Um… yeah."

"And _she's_ a sophomore at East Side Community, and her essays and poems are so good that colleges are already talking about scholarship offers," Rosita beamed, watching Enid for her reaction. But Beth could sense that she had just been changing the subject. The younger girl blushed and shook her head.

"She doesn't care about that," she muttered to Rosita, who shrugged.

"What? It's something to be proud of. At least you're good at something," the older brunette smirked.

Beth watched the exchange with envy, recognizing the sister-like relationship these two girls had, even if they only saw each other once a week. It seemed natural between them. She had that with Maggie. She'd always thought it was a bit annoying how bossy and overprotective her big sister always was, but now she missed it more than anything. She already wanted to connect with these other women, recognizing an instinctual kindness in them that she could relate to. But she knew it was dangerous to make friends or get too close to anyone, and she was worried what other questions they might ask her today in an attempt at getting to know her. It seemed that living with Daryl made her much more interesting than she'd originally thought.

The gym had filled with women, and a few men, of all ages, sizes, and colors. The class probably consisted of about twenty people all together. Most seemed to be paired off, or in small groups, and conversed amongst each other as they stretched and waited for the class to start. At this point, Daryl was walking around to each person, greeting them personally and asking them how they were doing. It was about five past ten when the last student walked in through the door, wearing bright green sunglasses and chewing on a straw leftover from a Starbucks drink. Her black hair was in a ponytail and she seemed to be in no rush to join the class, even though she was arriving late.

"We're always waiting on you, Tara. You're late," Rosita called as the chubby, dark-haired girl called Tara slipped off her shoes and jogged over to join Enid, Rosita, and Beth. Daryl was still on the other side of the room talking to a trio of middle-aged women.

"Can't be late to something that you're voluntarily showing up for. What's up – oh, is this her?" Tara remarked sarcastically in greeting, stopping mid-sentence when she saw Beth.

Rosita laughed, "Yeah, don't be rude. This is Rosie."

Tara smiled politely and reached out a hand, "Hey, I'm Tara."

Beth smiled in return, feeling awkwardly scrutinized now that she knew for a fact that multiple women had been talking about her before ever meeting her. "I'm uh – well, Rosie. Nice to meet you, too."

Daryl had wandered over when they weren't looking, crossing the room much quicker than Beth had expected, and his voice startled her. She spun around to see him standing close, eyes moving between Enid, Rosita, and Tara as he spoke, "Careful o' these ones. They look sweet, but they're vicious."

Beth's eyebrows rose but the girls laughed, and he directed his next words towards her, "Pay attention, though. I ain't much of a teacher, but these ones are. They could kick _my_ ass if I let 'em."

Now Beth laughed as Daryl turned and walked away, heading to the end of the small gym so that everyone could see him. He stood on his own large mat laid out at the front, the rest of the students standing in long rows across the small gym. The idle hum of talking and laughter died down and everyone turned their attention to him, standing and waiting for him to speak as he patiently awaited their full attention. Malachi was still in the corner, enthralled by his action figures as he played out a scene to himself. He glanced up when the room got quiet, but lost interest pretty quickly and went back to his toys when his dad began to speak.

"Okay, welcome back, everybody. We got some new faces this week – that's good. You can never be too careful, 'specially in this city," Daryl's voice was the loudest Beth had ever heard it as it rose so that everyone in the small gym could hear. "My partner's not here today, her kid's sick so she's sittin' it out this week. But I was hopin' one of my newer students might come up an' help today."

For a second, Beth's heart skipped as Daryl glanced over to where she stood at the end of the front row, and she thought he was going to ask her to come up front. But his eyes skimmed over her and stopped on another girl in the front row, standing a couple people down. Beth looked down past Rosita, Tara, and Enid. A familiar face stepped forward, her curly, black hair tied up in a bun, and she took her place standing beside Daryl up front. It was the tawny-skinned, black Asian girl from the front desk of the apartment building's lobby.

 _Duh, why would he ask me, I don't know the first thing about this stuff,_ she thought to herself, embarrassed that she'd even thought his eyes would stop on her.

"This is Clementine," Daryl introduced her to everyone. "She just started the class a few weeks ago, but she used to take martial arts when she was younger so she can probably kick my ass."

The class laughed and Clementine blushed lightly.

Rosita leaned over and whispered to Beth, "You met her already, right?"

Beth nodded, even though she hadn't _formally_ met the young girl. She'd seen her in the lobby and glanced her nametag, but that was enough. The girl looked to be around Beth's age.

Rosita nodded and went back to watching the instructors, and Daryl continued by talking about what they'd be practicing in the next two hours.

"So last week, we learned how to defend against an attacker from behind. Now this week, we're gonna go over that some more – and I'll come around an' help you guys, for those of you that're new this week. But fer the most part, we're gonna learn about disarming. Whether it be a knife, a gun, whatever. Most attackers are idiots – "

The class laughed lightly at this, while Clementine was merely smiling politely while she stood and listened to Daryl talk. Beth, Rosita, Tara, and Enid were all watching attentively.

" – and they're gonna pull out whatever weapon they have and they'll probably brandish it around, wave it here an' there, they might get close t'your face or your throat to try an' intimidate you. But the most important thing to remember is always: Stay. Calm."

He gestured to Malachi, who was still sitting in the corner with his toys, and called to him, "Hey, Mal, bring the bag over here!"

Malachi looked up and grinned, dropping his toys to the ground and getting up to run to Daryl, slipping the backpack off his shoulders and handing it to his father. Daryl took it with a smirk and there were a few "aww"s from some of the women in the class. Beth held back a smile. Daryl opened the bag to pull out a fake knife and a toy gun, and then motioned for Malachi to step out of the way so he wouldn't get hurt. The toddler obeyed and stood off to the side, appearing excited to see what his dad would do with the toy weapons.

After a few minutes, Beth found Daryl's words to be genuinely interesting and informative as he demonstrated self-defense techniques with the help of Clementine and the toy weapons. She was starting to think coming to the class was actually a good idea and that she might learn something helpful. She began to forget that she was a wanted fugitive in a class full of strangers, feeling more like she was just another normal girl in a class with other normal girls. Even Daryl seemed to be more in his element, practicing scenarios and patiently teaching Clementine the correct movements for the whole class to see. Malachi watched with wide eyes from a few feet away, just as enthralled.

"Okay, now in yer pairs, everybody practice it. Just pretend you have weapons, you're mostly tryin' to grasp the movements. The weapon won't matter eventually. I'll come around an' help to correct you," Daryl spoke up to the class again as they each began turning to each other, apparently already paired off. "But remember, this is just the movements – you never really know what it's like until you're in the situation, so ya have to always remember to stay calm, and try to remember everything you practiced here. Do it enough and it'll be like muscle memory."

Beth turned to Rosita only to find her back turned as she was facing away and talking to Tara. And next to Tara, Enid had paired off with another younger girl in the front row. Daryl approached her, and she almost expected him to volunteer to be her partner. But then she remembered that he had to walk around and help everyone else.

"You wanna practice with Clem?" He asked her, gesturing behind him to Clementine, who had followed him expectantly.

Beth nodded, not wanting to be rude. But she wasn't sure how she felt about getting so close to someone she'd just met. She reached out a hand in greeting, "Hi. Rosie."

Clementine nodded and shook her hand briefly, "Clementine. You can call me Clem."

Beth smiled at Daryl. He turned to Clem and asked, "You guys alright?"

The younger girl nodded and he walked away, heading over to Rosita and Tara to watch them practice and correct their mistakes. Clem turned to Beth and gave a forced smile.

"You wanna be the attacker first?" She asked.

Beth nodded, hoping it would be easier than the other option. She was right, because it was easy to have your arm twisted by someone else while you pretended to attack them with an invisible knife. But when it came to copying the tawny-skinned girl's movements, Beth realized she wasn't quite as graceful. She'd always been a quick learner, honor student, the best at most everything she tried to do. But when it came to self-defense, she was clumsier than she'd thought, and Clementine kept having to stop her and show her the right way to do it.

"No, grab my wrist _here_ , and then twist it _this_ way, but you have t'move your head at the same time if you don't wanna like, _die_ ," Clem explained, her patience beginning to run thin.

Beth sighed but kept her mouth shut, fearing what this unfamiliar girl might think of her if she spoke. Instead, she followed every direction the other girl gave her and continued trying. After several minutes, she was able to disarm Clem somewhat successfully. This seemed to satisfy them both. Beth was silently grateful that she hadn't worn the gun-holster undershirt today after all the close contact she'd just experienced.

They practiced for at least half an hour as Daryl made his way around the room, helping the other students. Some of them were starting to get tired and stopping to take a rest, awaiting the next half of class from Daryl. Enid was standing with her hands on her hips, laughing with the girl she'd been practicing with. Tara and Rosita had finally called it quits and wandered over to Beth and Clementine.

"You guys doin' anything after this?" Rosita asked casually, glancing back-and-forth between the two younger girls. "Me and Tara were thinking about stopping at a bar for a beer and some lunch."

"It's not even noon yet," Clem pointed out, as if the offer were ridiculous.

Tara scoffed. "It will be when the class is over. You wanna come or not?"

"I'm eighteen, I can't drink," she answered.

Rosita and Tara booed jokingly, then all three girls looked to Beth.

She quickly replied, "Uh – I lost my ID, actually. In the move. So I'll have to pass this time. Thanks, though."

"We'll just go to a bar and grill, they won't card you if you don't order any alcohol," Rosita suggested, looking to Tara for her input.

"Yeah, but d'you think they'll like, wanna card everybody at the table just in case we share drinks?" Tara asked.

Rosita shrugged and answered nonchalantly, "Then we'll just throw a shitfit. _The customer's always right._ "

Tara laughed, "Okay, but what if it's the _law_ or something?"

Rosita cracked a smile and answered, "They'll either let it go or they'll kick us out, then we'll have our answer."

The girls laughed together and Beth started to wonder if they were best friends or something. It felt odd to ask, though, so she didn't. She still didn't understand why these girls who literally just met her wanted to invite her to lunch with them. She looked over at Clementine again, who was smiling in amusement at Tara and Rosita. She glanced over and met Beth's gaze, raising her eyebrows.

"I got nothin' better to do. Wanna go?" She asked, surprising Beth.

"I dunno if you drink, but I'll slip you beers," Tara joked.

Beth didn't know what to say. She glanced over and saw that Daryl had nearly circled all the way back to them, but there was no way he'd walk over in time to save her from this question. Would they think she was rude if she said no? What did she even care what they thought anyway? She might never see them again. What were the odds of her coming back to this class? She really wasn't sure of that answer at the moment, in all honesty. But it was still reassuring to know she would never be obliged to show her face here again if she didn't want to. Yet she kind of felt like she might end up wanting to. At the same time, she wanted to be paranoid. Her instincts were still telling her to constantly be on her guard, but it was getting more and more difficult when these complete strangers were being so nice to her. And she was already so lonely... and what would she even _do_ with the rest of her day otherwise, besides fight sleep?

With everyone waiting for her to answer, she stammered out, "Uh, y-yeah. Sure."

"Cool. Wanna try that place a couple blocks away? It's a bar and grill, I think they have drink specials for lunch," Tara suggested, watching Rosita for a reply.

"Yeah, that's – " Rosita was interrupted when Malachi appeared out of nowhere, running up behind her and grabbing her legs playfully, laughing. She spun around and grabbed him, chuckling, "You sneaky little monster!"

A few seconds later, Daryl approached, having finally made his rounds of the class and looking satisfied with the results. Beth noticed the way he was eyeing the group of girls suspiciously as he walked up. He must've been as baffled by their magnetism towards Beth as she had been. Or maybe he knew things about the other girls that she didn't.

"What're y'all doin' over here?" He asked, spotting Malachi and giving him a wave as the toddler continued playing with Rosita. "Dangerous group of girls all together. Plottin' to overthrow the government or somethin'?"

Beth spotted the playful smirk on his face and was genuinely surprised to see him interacting with these women like they were his friends. Then again, she hadn't expected him to be the instructor of a self-defense class for mostly women either. She'd begun to think he didn't talk to anyone but his son and his neighbor. Not that that would be such a bad thing. But it was almost relieving to see that he had other people that he seemed to care about, if even just a little. She knew she'd have to step lightly, though – meeting too many new people could make things terribly complicated.

"Or somethin'," Tara quipped. "We're gonna start with overthrowing the drinking policy at the bar-n-grill down the street after class."

"Wanna come?" Clementine asked before anyone else could interject, watching Daryl for his reaction.

He shrugged, glancing at Malachi, then at Beth, and back to the other girls. "Nah, thanks. Me an' Mal were gonna stop by and see if Carol an' Sophia need anything, then we might go to the park. Maybe next week."

The girls gave a disappointed "aww," but no one tried to convince him otherwise. He looked to Beth, asking her pointedly, "You goin'?"

She nodded, "Yeah. I, um… figured I got nothin' better to do."

His mouth twitched but he didn't seem to care either way. He gave a grunt of acknowledgement and muttered, "'Spose so," before turning away to head back to the front of the class. The girls dispersed and returned to their places to prepare for the next half of class.

Beth didn't learn much about defending against an attacker from behind, though, because she kept watching the clock. Now that she'd agreed and made plans to go out to a public place, she couldn't stop worrying about how many cameras might be there and how much time she'd have to check the news to see if her story had gone national before daring to step foot into another establishment. She still had to be prepared at all times, and she knew she should be staying indoors and completely out of sight right now, but it was getting difficult. She might go stir crazy, and she already knew she'd have to stay laying low for a while after meeting the mysterious person from the phone calls in person. Plus… what if these girls were able to explain a few things about Daryl to her? Understanding him better would certainly make living with him a lot easier. And they seemed to know him a lot more intimately than she ever would. Not that she cared to learn the guy's whole backstory, she just needed the stuff that explained why he acted the way he did sometimes.

Her mind was so jumbled that the last hour of class flew by. Before she knew it, Daryl was wrapping up the class, bidding everyone goodbye and wishing them a safe and happy week. Malachi was bouncing up and down with excitement as woman after woman stopped to speak to him, ruffle his hair, or compliment him on his good manners. It seemed that nearly every student in the class was entranced by the blond toddler, and they all looked like they thought Daryl and Malachi were the cutest duo they'd ever met. Daryl beamed proudly as he stood behind his son, shaking people's hands and watching them gather their things from the lockers and leave the small gym.

Rosita, Tara, Enid, and Clem all walked to the lockers together, Beth trailing behind them. They were talking amongst themselves, mostly discussing what they'd be ordering at the bar. As she approached the lockers, falling farther behind so as not to get in anyone's way, she remembered that her bag was in Daryl's locker. She glanced over and saw him squatting down to Malachi's level, speaking with someone while also trying to get his son into the conversation. She didn't want to interrupt them so she decided to wait until he came over to the lockers. She looked over to see the girls were gathering their things, still talking. They noticed her standing off to the side and Rosita waved to her.

"I, uh – he has my stuff in his locker," Beth gestured toward Daryl as she explained why she was waiting.

Rosita heard her, even from a short walk away, and nodded, "We'll meet you outside!"

Beth nodded, a bit surprised that they were actually going to wait for her. Did they genuinely want to get to know her or something? It felt odd meeting people and making friends as a "different" person. How was she supposed to act? Should she change her personality just like she changed her name and hair? But then again, she hadn't really had many friends before, anyway, so there wasn't much to go off of. She'd been so occupied with homework and keeping an excellent GPA, and then basically all of her free time was devoted to the farm and the church. Jimmy was about the only person she had any time for, and that was mostly because he was allowed to come to the farm and was practically considered family for such a long time.

She only waited a couple more minutes before Daryl walked over to the lockers, Malachi following him close behind. He looked exhausted, but not physically – it was more like his mental battery needed to be recharged for the day.

"Sorry, it takes a while to end class sometimes. Everybody loves this little ham," he explained, smirking as he gestured to his son.

Beth chuckled, "No problem." She turned to Malachi and spoke a bit louder, "I can see why! Who wouldn't love him?"

Malachi giggled while Daryl proceeded to unlock the locker, pulling out Beth's bag and handing it over to her. She stepped closer and took it gratefully, slipping it back onto her bag and letting out a breath of relief. She rested her sunglasses atop her head and moved to grab her shoes.

"So yer gonna go hang out with the girls?" Daryl's voice startled her as she was putting on her boots.

"Yeah, I guess so. They seem pretty nice," she said, staring down at the ground and pretending like she was occupied with adjusting her socks.

"Yeah. They're good gals," he said as he tied his shoes. "Just don't… listen t'too much of what they say. You know how women are. They like to gossip."

Beth finally looked over at him, an expression on her face that said, 'really?' " _How women are_? I'm a woman. We don't all like to gossip."

Daryl smirked as if he knew he could aggravate her without actually challenging her, "Right. 'Cept you do…"

She narrowed her eyes and tried to find a rebuttal, snapping back, " _Everyone_ likes to gossip. It's not just a woman thing – it's a _human_ thing."

He shrugged, standing up from where he'd been tying his shoes, "Guess I'm not human then. Rather not talk than talk 'bout somebody else's life when it don't concern me. Just don't see the point of stickin' yer nose where it don't belong. 'Specially when ya don't always know the whole story."

Beth furrowed her brow, watching the older man walk over to his son and help him gather all the toys into his backpack. "Okay… so you think I shouldn't trust these girls? They're your friends, too, aren't they?"

As he helped Malachi put the backpack full of toys onto his back, Daryl replied a little _too_ casually, "I ain't got friends."

* * *

 _Beth Greene, sixteen years old and about to be a junior at Coweta Charter Academy, stepped into the dining room of her big home to find her daddy sitting alone at the table. He was watching her expectantly with a broad grin on his face. The rest of the house was empty for now – everyone was either out working on the farm or running errands. It was a particularly hot and humid August, and the air conditioning fought to keep up in the large farmhouse. The summer sun poured in through every window. Sweat beaded on Beth's forehead and neck, even though she was already wearing shorts and a tank top._

" _Daddy?" She asked, stopping behind one of the chairs at the table._

 _He gestured for her to take the seat before her, still grinning, and she obliged. She pulled the chair out and sat down, scooting in close to the table and resting her elbows on the surface as she waited for her father to say whatever he had to say. His face was glowing and for a moment, she thought he was going to tell her that the operation was ending. But when he began speaking, she realized that wasn't the case, and her heart dropped a little. He was beaming with excitement and pride nonetheless._

" _Bethy, I have some good news," he said, still smiling._

 _She nodded but asked, "Where's Momma?"_

" _Oh, she's off somewhere with Maggie right now. I'll talk to her later. But I wanted to tell you first," Hershel explained. His blue eyes were bright with excitement._

 _Beth nodded and waited for him to continue, still unsure of what to expect._

" _You've been doin' so well in school, and you only have two years left. So I want you t'know, if you keep doing this well – well, I did the math and… l can send you to any college you want after you graduate. As long as you can get in, that is."_

 _Her eyes widened and she thought he was joking at first. "What d'you mean?"_

" _You've been on the honor roll since first grade, sweetheart. And I've been –_ _ **saving**_ _, and planning, to ensure that you can get the education you deserve," he explained as simply as he could. "So, I'm telling you that if you can get into your dream college, wherever that may be, you don't have to worry about receiving enough scholarships or paying for tuition or books, because I've got it covered. Completely."_

 _Beth's eyes grew wider, if that were possible. "Really…?"_

 _Hershel smiled again, finding her disbelief to be comical. "Of course. I mean, I may not like you movin' far away, but… well, as long as you visit. And call... I know you'll make good decisions. You are_ _ **my**_ _daughter, after all."_

 _She grinned now, all the possibilities filling her head. But the happiness on her daddy's face was almost a better feeling._

 _ **Maybe this is what he's been sacrificing so much for,**_ _she wondered._ _ **Maybe it was always for me and for the family. He wanted to secure our futures. Things can get easier now, we can get closer to ending the operation. I can go to college somewhere far away, we can all go back to being normal again. Maybe that's what this has all been about.**_

 _But it could never be that simple, could it?_

* * *

By one in the afternoon, Beth found herself seated in a booth next to Clem with Rosita and Tara sitting on the other side. They sat in a small, low-lighted bar and grill that was located just a few blocks away from the small gym where Daryl held his class. They'd walked together as a group, Beth trailing in the back as she clutched her bag to her back and listened to the other three girls joke around with each other. She'd turned and watched Daryl and Malachi walking in the opposite direction until she couldn't see them anymore.

It seemed that there wasn't much business in this particular restaurant today, even for a Saturday afternoon, as the girls found themselves to be four out of about fifteen patrons inside the establishment. And as Tara and Rosita ordered their second round of drinks, they were quickly becoming the loudest patrons in the establishment. They had all ordered food and were mostly finished eating by now. Rosita and Tara had each had a beer, but now they were trying a couple of cocktails that had attracted their attention on the menu. Beth had sat silently for the most part, listening to the girls as they gossiped and joked and laughed. They seemed to be good friends, and she assumed they hung out pretty regularly. They had mentioned sixteen-year-old Enid – who, apparently, usually joined them – and how she'd chosen to leave right after class today because she was going to spend time with her new boyfriend. Rosita had doted on the young girl for a few minutes as if she were the proud big sister. They also mentioned Carol and Sophia again, but changed the subject when they looked over and realized Beth was present and that she wasn't quite as acquainted with Carol.

However, Beth learned a lot about all of them just by listening. Occasionally, one of the girls would turn to her and ask for her opinion, or try to get her involved in the conversation, but for the most part, she was observing. Once in a while, she would interrupt to ask something, but it was usually in an attempt to get to know the other girls better. She had tons more questions on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't want to seem nosey or pushy or annoying, so she'd just smile and nod instead. She tried to use context clues to put together the parts of the conversations that made no sense to her, and it seemed to be working fairly well so far. She had to admit… it was nice to get wrapped up in someone else's drama for a short time, even if her own was still lurking at the back of her mind the whole time. At one point, she briefly checked the national news sites on her phone while the other girls chatted, just to assure that her face wouldn't randomly show up on one of the TV screens around them.

They'd only been sitting down and talking for about thirty or forty-five minutes, but Beth had already learned that Tara was a paramedic (she'd originally wanted to be a cop but she had personal reasons for not liking the NYPD and Beth was grateful to hear it) in her late twenties who had been dating a woman named Denise for about a year now, and things were going well. She and Rosita, who were assumedly about the same age, had met at a college class in the city years ago – Rosita had moved from Texas a couple years after she graduated high school, leaving behind a home full of overprotective brothers and a strict, overbearing father, while Tara had moved to the city from a small town a couple hours away with her sister and niece after their father passed away around the same time. They were both done with college classes now, but had remained friends. Rosita was a mechanic (a piece of information that surprised Beth, but also caught her interest) and she worked long hours during the week. Apparently, the pair had signed up for the self-defense class because it was free and they both had Saturdays off from work. Rosita mentioned an "Austin" here and there, but from what Beth had gathered, she was single and living with a couple of roommates nearby. As for Clem, she didn't seem to talk and gossip quite as much as the other two girls. She seemed to still be a bit weary, not completely comfortable in their presence just yet. Beth wondered if it was because _she_ was there, though. However, from what little she did speak, Beth learned that she was eighteen and had grown up in this same area of the city her entire life, and her parents both had mid-level jobs and a healthy marriage. She mentioned going to college once or twice, but didn't go into any details.

Rosita looked to Beth, their eyes meeting. She seemed to realize that she hadn't spoken much, so she prodded, "What about you, Rosie? Where are you working right now? Or are you still in college?"

Beth was caught off guard, having been distracted by all the other girls' stories and daily drama. She thought quickly, answering, "Oh, I just got here a few days ago. I – haven't found a job yet. I took some college classes back in Alabama but I couldn't really afford to finish."

The other girls nodded, watching Beth with new interest. She tried to seem as dull as possible, but they seemed to be fascinated just to hear her consistently speaking. She gave a light shrug and Clem spoke up.

"Wish I didn't have to work," Clem commented, sipping her lemonade. "All I do is sit there and do my homework anyway. It's a pointless job."

"It's good to have experience," Tara told her, already halfway through her first cocktail. "Maybe your parents just wanted you outta the house once in a while."

Rosita laughed and Clem smirked, rolling her eyes. The server stopped by, halting their conversation for a moment as he picked up empty plates and checked if anyone needed refills. Rosita and Tara both requested another drink, even though they hadn't finished the ones currently in front of them. The server nodded and walked away to fetch them anyway. When Rosita turned back to the other girls, her voice was lowered.

"So has anybody talked to Carol since last night?" She asked, eyes drifting from Tara to Clem and then to Beth.

They all shook their heads, but Tara added, "Didn't they have their session last night?"

Rosita nodded, "That's the last thing I knew. All Carol would tell me was that Sophia wasn't feeling well so they were gonna stay home today. She stopped texting me after like, midnight."

Beth's ears perked up. She'd already been listening, but now she was really interested. Rosita noticed and glanced to Beth, adding, "Don't tell Carol we told you anything. We're just worried about her."

Beth nodded, "Of course… What did they have to do last night? I mean, is she okay?" She tried to cover her curiosity with concern, even though she knew basically nothing about Carol and Sophia.

Tara shrugged as she chewed on the straw from her drink, the empty glass sitting in front of her. "They just started counseling and it's been kinda… taking a toll on them. Sophia started, uh… hurting herself. I think Carol tried to get her into counseling before that, but when she found out, it wasn't even an argument anymore."

"Yeah, I think last night was a tough one," Rosita mumbled, absent-mindedly fidgeting with the straw in her own drink.

"What… How old is Sophia?" Beth asked. She was nabbing possibly her only opportunity to learn anything about Daryl's neighbors without directly asking him. But she was also confused, because she hadn't realized that they had such a dark secret.

"Twelve," Rosita replied.

Beth furrowed her brows. "Wow, that… sucks." She thought back to when she'd caught a glance of the young girl the hallway and added, "When I saw her, I thought she was younger than twelve. She's so small."

"Well, yeah, she is… small," Rosita mumbled, looking down at the drink in front of her as if there were more to that sad story, but she didn't want to tell it.

"What really sucks is how much she's been through and she hasn't even gone through puberty yet," Clem piped up.

Rosita bit her lip and the server came back around, two new drinks in hand. He set them down and Tara helped herself to a hearty sip from her new straw before speaking, "Yeah, but let's not talk about that. I think everybody wants to leave that shit behind. As in – the _past_."

Beth noticed Clem pursing her lips and Rosita leaning down to focus on appearing distracted as she finished her drink. She decided to keep her own mouth shut, but she was fighting back the strong urge to ask about Carol and Sophia's past. She figured that she could safely assume it had something to do with abuse, and she guessed that explained where Sophia's dad was. But it still left a lot of questions. At the same time, she wanted to ask Tara what kind of personal experience she had with it, because she reacted as if she were offended. Did she have a similar dark secret, or did she just not believe in gossiping about people behind their backs?

"Right… But we've all been talking about ourselves and our own pasts, too," Rosita pointed out as she turned to Beth once again. "What made _you_ move here, Rosie? And have _you_ been to therapy, too?"

Tara smirked into her drink and Rosita flashed her a brief grin, but Beth caught the small scowl on Clem's face. She ignored it and replied, "Uh, just… kinda like you, I guess. Wanted t'get away from my brothers. But both my parents are gone, so – well, I just left. I wanted to start fresh and go somewhere new. Not in therapy yet but I'm sure I'll need it eventually."

The other girls chuckled and nodded, and Clem appeared mildly more impressed with Beth than she was with Rosita and Tara at the moment.

"You came out here just, not knowing anyone?" She asked.

Beth nodded. "Yeah. Daryl was the first person I met here."

Tara's eyes lit up at the mention of his name, and she interrupted herself mid-drink to ask, "Oh – what's it like _living_ with him? Does he ever talk to you? About _anything_?"

Beth shrugged, a little surprised by her questions. "Not really. Aren't you guys, like… his friends?"

All three of the other girls shrugged, and Rosita answered, "We try to be. I mean, he's nice during class and once in a while, he'll ask one of us to watch Malachi if Carol is sick or something. But he never comes and does stuff like this with us. He seems to care, but I don't think he really likes being around people."

"Well, he has a little kid," Clem reminded her.

"So?" Rosita quipped. "We could ask him t'come with us to Chuck E. Cheese and he'd still say he has to do laundry or some shit."

"He's just a private guy," Tara interjected, nearly finished with her second drink. "He's always nice. He just doesn't trust many people."

"Or _any_ people," Rosita said.

"He talks to Carol," Clem muttered, absent-mindedly stirring the ice in her empty glass with the straw.

"True," Tara agreed.

Rosita nodded as well. Beth looked around, waiting for an explanation, but none of them had anything to say for the moment. She decided to go ahead and let out the words that were sitting on her tongue.

"Why Carol?"

Tara didn't look up from her drink and neither did Clem, but Rosita did. She only shrugged, though. "Who knows. Neighbors, babysitter. Carol seems to attract the formerly abused like a magnet lately, so maybe that's it."

"Probably," Tara piped up, sharing a knowing look with Rosita. "I never really thought too much about it, but what if he's another abuse survivor? She probably practices her counseling on him."

Rosita smirked but quickly wiped it away and looked back to Beth, who asked with a furrowed brow, "What d'you mean? Is she a therapist or something?"

Rosita shook her head and explained, "No, but it was her idea to start the self-defense class. She just wanted Daryl to be the instructor because he's a fairly big guy and she needed somebody strong to help her teach the class. Plus, I think he's the only guy she could find who'd do it for free. She's taking online classes and stuff to get a degree in social work so she can do counseling and try to help domestic abuse survivors. She left Sophia's dad because he was abusive and moved here to get away from him, and now she wants to help other women. So it's like… all these abused girls come to the class and then they flock to Carol and she basically teaches women how to kick ass and take back their lives."

"Well, it _is_ pretty badass," Tara added. "But it just gets hard when you're still healing yourself and your kid and you're also trying to heal other people… And I'm sure it's probably the same thing with Daryl. They're the kinda people who put everybody else before themselves."

Rosita nodded, agreeing. Beth nodded as well, but she wasn't sure if she agreed or if she just understood. At least they'd confirmed the part about Carol and Sophia's past that she'd been taking guesses at.

"Yeah, but she's smart, and she's good at it," Clem said. "And so is Daryl. He just doesn't like many people to know."

"Daryl does that class for free? Every single Saturday?" Beth asked before the other girls could say any more about Carol. She was getting tired of discussing abuse and its survivors – or rather, its victims.

"Well yeah, we said earlier that it's a free class," Rosita said. "It's only two hours a week but it's taught us a lot. Me, Tara, and Enid were the first people to sign up."

Clem and Tara nodded in agreement. Tara looked around the establishment, trying to find the server with her empty glass sitting in front of her. They all seemed to lose interest in the conversation simultaneously, minds drifting off somewhere else.

After a few moments of silence – Tara searching for the server, Rosita texting someone back on her phone, and Beth staring down at the table with a head full of thoughts – Clem spoke up, "I need to get home. I have a paper due tonight."

It was past two now, and Rosita nodded in agreement while Tara called to the man she recognized as their server, spotting him in a corner across the room. Beth opened up her bag and dug around inside for some money, trying to act discreetly while the other girls were distracted. She grasped a couple bills in her hand and pulled them out, closing the bag immediately. But when she looked over, Clem was watching her from the corner of her eye.

 _How much did she see_? Beth thought as she stuffed the money into the waistband of her leggings and tried to appear normal.

But the other eighteen-year-old girl didn't say anything. She just looked away. A few seconds later, the server approached their table and Tara asked him to bring them the check. He disappeared again and Clem pulled money from her pocket to set down on the table. Rosita did the same on the other side of the booth, as did Tara. Beth tried to discreetly pluck the twenty-dollar bill from her waistband amongst three other hundred-dollar bills.

"Yeah, Denise wants to do something tonight so I need to get to the store and head home," Tara said, setting down a few bills on the table.

Rosita sighed, plopping down her own money, "Ugh, that reminds me… I have to get groceries this weekend."

The server appeared again and set down a small, black booklet that contained the tab. Clem picked it up and checked the total, then gathered everyone's money and counted it before stuffing it inside the booklet and closing it again, setting it back down. She stood, grabbing her bag, and Rosita joined her.

"See you guys later," Clem waved before turning and leaving.

Tara scooted herself out of the booth and stood up as Rosita turned to Beth and asked, "Need somebody t'walk you home?"

Beth shook her head even though she was secretly hoping she could remember which way she and Daryl had come from. But then, she guessed, she always had GPS. "No, I think I'm okay. Thank you, though. Um… see you next week?"

Rosita nodded and Tara's eyes lit up like she'd just remembered something. She looked at Beth and held her hand out, "Here, gimme your phone and I'll put our numbers in. We work a lot during the week but we can still text, if you want."

Beth was a bit taken aback by the offer, astounded at the fact that these girls she'd barely met wanted to give her their phone numbers just so they could talk. She fumbled to find her phone for a second, then pulled it from her bag and unlocked the screen, navigating to her contacts list before placing the phone in Tara's hand. The older, dark-haired woman continued to chew on her straw as she casually added her and Rosita's numbers into Beth's phonebook. She then handed the phone back and gave a small smile.

"There, now Daryl isn't the only person you know in the city," she said.

* * *

After parting ways with the girls outside the bar and grill, Beth put her sunglasses back on and checked the GPS. She began taking the route back to the apartment, but she chose the longer way. It took her through quiet neighborhoods and small business districts, as well as past a park. She sauntered through for a moment, taking in the smell of fresh grass and watching the dark clouds move through the sky. They were getting darker, and there was still a hint of rain in the air.

During her walk, she pulled out her phone and sent a text to Irma. It read simply, " _Had a big breakfast this morning. Then I went to a self-defense class and made some friends! Heading home now to settle in and read a book. Hope all is well with you and Dale. xoxo Rosie_." She smiled and pressed Send, still unsure of exactly _what_ she'd be doing with the rest of her evening, but wanting Irma to be assured of her safety. She still felt bad for having missed all her text messages and forgetting to call her.

Beth continued walking at a leisurely pace, observing everything around her and trying to memorize as much as she could. She passed through one block that consisted mostly of small stores, and she soon found herself window shopping. There was a comic book store that had colorful toys and collectibles on display in their big front windows, a maternity store with mannequins in stylish pregnancy wear on display in their windows, as well as a thrift store for gently used clothing and books whose front window was covered by a large, beige curtain. She wandered inside, bag strapped securely to her back and a few hundred-dollar bills still stuffed into her waistband.

The store was dusty and had the smell of an old house. There was a single old woman sitting behind the register at the front counter with her nose in a magazine, and she barely looked up when Beth entered. There weren't any cameras in sight. The farther in she got, she realized that the racks of clothing weren't in bad condition. They were all fairly new, and they all smelled better than the store itself. She figured she may as well grab some more clothes since she didn't know when she'd get the next chance. She only had a few outfits right now, and they were all dirty.

She browsed through the racks of clothing to find a section that held all the items in her size. She pulled out shirts, pants, jackets. She pressed them to herself, checked them in a mirror, compared different options. After a solid thirty minutes, she had picked out all the other wardrobe pieces she lacked and gathered them in her arms. She carried them to the front counter and plopped them down, then watched as the old woman set her magazine down and scanned each item, one at a time, and folded it up to be placed inside a brown paper bag.

It was late afternoon when Beth resumed her trek home. She toted two of the large, brown paper bags in her hands, walking a little quicker now that she was carrying something. She felt pleased with herself, having found a lot of surprisingly cute clothes inside the dingy little thrift store. She couldn't really indulge in much these days, but there was nothing wrong with treating herself to some new clothes. Even if she only got to wear them while she sat around the apartment.

The city was louder than the countryside of Georgia. Obviously. Beth had expected it, but it still set her nerves on edge sometimes when she heard police sirens. And other times, the incessant honking of horns and random car alarms annoyed her. Her head was on a swivel as she walked down sidewalks and past rows of connected houses and apartment buildings. Most everyone she passed was minding their own business and barely giving her a second glance. She enjoyed the fresh air and sunlight after days of being inside, but she was being reminded of why she'd stayed inside in the first place. She could never stop worrying or looking over her shoulder.

She was relieved when the apartment building came into view. The sun was high in the sky, though obscured by scattered clouds, and the trees out front of the apartments cast large shadows over the sidewalk. She stared at the window that belonged to her and Daryl's apartment as she got closer and closer, but she couldn't tell if there was any movement inside. The bags swung from her hands as she walked, reaching the front door quickly.

The lobby was empty, as usual. The desk still sat abandoned, and Beth thought about how Clem was probably sitting at home, doing her homework right now. She jogged up the stairs, becoming winded by the third flight. She had to slow down and catch her breath as she approached the final landing, but she sighed with relief to know that she was done with the stairs.

The door to Carol's apartment was shut and Beth couldn't hear anything from the hallway. But then again, she couldn't hear anything coming from inside Daryl's apartment, either. She set her bags down and pulled the bag from her back around to the front, digging around inside until she found the spare apartment key she'd tossed inside that morning. She unlocked the door and picked her bags up, letting herself in to the quiet, empty apartment.

She set her bags down on the floor inside and shut the door, flipping on the light switch. The living room and kitchen looked undisturbed since that morning, and Beth couldn't hear any signs of Daryl or Malachi being home. She stepped into the hallway and peered down to the bedroom at the end, just to be sure. But the door was wide open and both beds were empty.

She shrugged to herself and took her bags to her bedroom, shutting herself inside. Her muscles finally relaxed and she breathed in relief before pouring out the contents of her bags onto the bed. She sorted through the clothes, pulling off tags and stickers and gathering all the trash to be thrown away. When she was finished, she pulled the gun and pocket watch from her backpack and placed them carefully beneath the pillow. Then she shoved the bag full of money back under the bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

She held one of her new shirts up to her nose, breathing in. She groaned. She had completely forgotten to ask Daryl about laundry. She tossed the clothes to the floor in a pile and kicked off her boots, plopping down on the bed. Now that she was home and lying down, her eyelids were heavy and the exhaustion was really hitting her. How long had it been since she'd slept? She couldn't even remember.

Her phone sat on the nightstand, vibrating with a new notification. She tried to lift her arm to grab it and see what it was – even though she knew it was most likely a text from Irma – but she couldn't seem to gather the energy. It all seemed like far too much work right now. Her arm remained where it was, and she didn't move a muscle. Her eyelids fell shut once more, but didn't rise again for several hours.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** I know this chapter is a little fluffier than the others, but I hope that doesn't deter you from the story. If there was anything you didn't care for, please let me know in a review! Or if you liked it!  
And don't forget: Voting for the 2017 Moonshine Awards is happening NOW! So if you're enjoying this story, please go vote for it in "Best Work In Progress"! :) You can vote at ultimatebethylficlist dot com /2016-moonshine-awards/ (remove the spaces and replace dot with an actual dot)


	14. a struggling man has got to move

_**a struggling man has got to move**_

Suddenly, Beth was awake. She was surrounded by darkness and there was a faint smell of recently cooked meat in the air. The sound of rain hitting the roof above filled the small apartment and echoed throughout, and she blinked as she remembered where she was. Sleep had overcome her so quickly and unexpectedly that it took her a moment to realize how much time had passed. There was a low rumble of thunder outside. The clock read 11:37. She rubbed her eyes, finding them dry and itchy thanks to forgetting to take her contacts out once again. She plucked them out and dropped them onto the small dish that still sat on her nightstand, then reached over and turned on the lamp. She grabbed the bottle of eye drops that sat nearby for relief.

She hadn't dreamt or really even realized that she'd been asleep. It had been like blinking for too long and before she knew it, hours had passed. She listened for the sounds of Daryl and Malachi, but it was quiet in the apartment. There was another rumble of thunder and the fall of rain continued above. There was no light apparent through the cracks in Beth's bedroom door and she assumed the boys had already come home and gone to bed. And based on the lingering aroma, they'd had dinner as well. She was somewhat baffled at herself for sleeping through all the noise and never rousing. But then again, she'd gone over twenty-four hours without solid sleep, and the day had been both physically and emotionally tiring.

She sat atop the bed with her legs crossed, still dressed in the leggings and shirt she'd worn earlier that day, and picked up her phone. She faintly remembered hearing it vibrating right before she'd drifted off, and she unlocked it to check her notifications. There was a text message, but it wasn't from Irma. The sender simply read _Unknown_. She quickly opened it and read: _11:53 pm_.

She was confused at first, but then it clicked – it was a message from the mysterious caller about a new time. But was it for another phone call? It had to be, or else he would've specified… right? Her heart started beating a little faster, and she glanced at the clock again to see that she'd be waiting at least ten minutes to find out the answer.

She searched through the rest of her texts as well as her email inbox, making sure she hadn't missed any other messages. But there was nothing else new, except for a reply from Irma talking about how happy she was for "Rosie" and what she and Dale had done that day. Beth jumped to checking the news sites, national first. It calmed her a bit to see that her case still wasn't anywhere to be found on the national news. The Georgia and Atlanta news still showed her headline within the top five, though.

She watched the clock when it started getting close to the time that had been in the text. The minutes dragged by but she clutched her phone in her hand and waited. 11:51. 11:52… And then it was 11:53. A moment passed, then another. She began to think they might've forgotten, or maybe it had been a mistake.

Then the phone began vibrating in her hand. She stared at the screen to see that it was Unknown once again. She answered on the second vibration, her throat dry from sleep and her voice still shaky.

"Hello?"

The same voice from the previous phone calls spoke, "Tonight. One-fifteen. Wait for the flashes at one-eleven. Remember the password."

Before she could even open her mouth, he hung up. She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it quizzically, then grabbed the pen that lay on her nightstand and jotted down the times on the piece of paper: _1:11_ and _1:15_. She checked the clock again and realized she needed to change and get going right away, hoping the traffic would be manageable at this time of night. But she also knew it was a Saturday and there might be a large flood of people out on the streets commuting between bars and homes and parties.

Beth hopped out of bed and stripped off her clothes, quickly slipping the concealing undershirt back on – Beretta holstered safely in the pocket - underneath a clean shirt and a pair of jeans. She slipped on her jacket and boots before she noticed that her bladder was rather full and she needed to visit the bathroom before doing anything else. She opened her bedroom door tentatively and peeked out, finding mostly darkness and the lone stove light in the kitchen. The boys' bedroom door was closed and the only sound that could be heard throughout the apartment was the rain hitting the roof above and the windows in the living room. There was another rumble of thunder, so low that it just barely vibrated the glass of the windows.

Beth tiptoed out into the hallway and to the bathroom, taking care of her business while trying to calculate in her head if she'd have enough time to get there. She had planned on navigating her way through the subway system to get herself more accustomed to the ways of the city, but now it looked like her best option may be ordering a cab. Her GPS gave her an estimate of about twenty minutes to her destination, but she knew that there were a lot of variables involved that could change that.

She was grateful to find the hallway empty when she emerged from the bathroom. She had splashed some water on her face as well as replaced the brown contacts, but she had no time to spare if she had to speak to Daryl or try to make an excuse for where she was going this late at night. She hoped he wouldn't hear her slip out or back into the apartment because her mind was too busy right now to think up a logical lie.

Back in her bedroom, Beth pulled the bag from beneath the bed once again and opened it up. She reached over and pulled her daddy's pocket watch from beneath the pillow, moving to stuff it into the bag. But she stopped herself and looked at it for a moment, running her thumb over its shiny surface. She remembered the story he'd told her about how Maggie's mom had gone and bought it back one time after he'd pawned it for booze money during one of the worst times in his battle with alcoholism. Her daddy had told Beth and Maggie lots of stories about his first wife, Josephine, and the bond they had shared. But in the end, they'd never had a bond like the giant secret that kept him and Beth's mother, Annette, together. Beth stuffed the pocket watch back beneath the pillow, deciding to leave it in a safe place while she was out. She figured it was better not to risk having it stolen, even though the likelihood of her allowing someone to rob her for anything in her possession was low. She didn't want to bring any more than she really needed, which was the gun and the money. She also had the note Maggie had left somewhere inside the bag, just in case this mysterious person asked for proof that Beth was who she said. She wasn't sure if they'd recognize her sister's handwriting the way she did, though.

She realized she had everything she needed and closed the bag up tightly, then threw it over her shoulders and onto her back. The apartment was still silent as she shut off her bedside lamp, slipped out the bedroom door, and tiptoed through the hallway and living room to the front door. She looked around for a moment, remembering that she'd seen an umbrella sitting somewhere in the apartment recently. She spotted it in the corner, resting against the wall. It was a simple black umbrella, and she grabbed it and took it with her, grateful that Daryl had left it out in the open. She pulled the spare key from the tight pocket of her jeans and used it to lock the door again once she was out into the hall. The door to 3B was dark and silent, and Beth wondered if Carol and Sophia were sleeping right now and if they would hear her leaving.

Once Beth made it to the lobby of the apartment building, which was empty, she stopped and pulled out her phone to look up the number for the nearest cab company. She called and spoke as quietly as she could, even though she knew it wasn't likely she could be heard from the third floor. After she hung up, she went to the front door and stared out one of the square windows. The rain was coming down steadily outside, but not in heavy sheets. There were occasional rumbles of thunder but no flashes of lightning. The streets and sidewalks indicated that it hadn't been raining very long. There didn't appear to be any people out on the street nearby, and few cars drove past. The dispatcher had given Beth an estimate of about fifteen minutes for the cab to arrive, and her eyes searched up and down the street for any sign of it, umbrella gripped tightly in her hand.

After fifteen minutes had passed and there was still no sign of a taxi, Beth decided to step outside and wait so she could be easily seen. She stood below the small entryway awning and opened the umbrella, lifting it to cover her head as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. The rain pattered against its surface but her head and the bag on her back remained dry. The breeze was light and the temperature had dropped to the fifties, and Beth zipped her jacket up and hugged it tighter to her body. She searched up and down the street, heart skipping each time a pair of headlights appeared through the rain.

It was another ten minutes before the cab arrived, slowing as it approached the front of the apartment building. Daryl's bike was covered with a heavy, black tarp amongst the row of parked cars along the side of the street, and Beth slipped between them to get to the taxi as it waited for her in the street. She hurried to close her umbrella and slip into the backseat of the yellow car, shutting the door and finding relief in the stale, warm air of the interior. The driver greeted her and confirmed her destination, then drove her through the rain-drenched streets in silence with his radio on NPR at a low volume.

They passed by busy nightclubs with lines pouring out the doors, half the people holding umbrellas of various colors and decorations to keep themselves dry, bars with outdoor seating that was empty and covered up, and houses that were lit up in every room and showed peeks of the silhouettes of moving people in the windows. There wasn't as much traffic as Beth had expected, but the intersections were still clogged with cars and the stoplights took several minutes to get through. She wondered what it must feel like to be carefree on a rainy Saturday night in September, living in the city and having no need to lie about your name or where you were from, maybe dancing and interacting with friends while the worries of the workweek drifted far away.

The closer they got to their destination, the more menacing the neighborhoods' appearances became. Beth began noticing more and more homeless people, pushing carts full of dirty items down the sidewalk or huddled together on stoops under narrow doorways. The streets became darker, gloomier, and the houses and apartment buildings were mostly run-down. She quietly reached under her shirt and pulled out the Beretta from its hidden pocket, discreetly moving it down and tucking it into the back of her waistband. She wanted to be prepared, just in case.

As they approached the corner that Beth had been directed to by the mysterious voice on the phone, the cab slowed and pulled to the side of the street. There weren't as many cars lining the curbs in this area, and the businesses all seemed to be either closed or mostly dead at this time of night. There were a couple of people apparent in the distance, but they seemed preoccupied with each other. The streetlights lit up most of the sidewalks and corners but left plenty of shadowed areas and alleys, as well as darkened buildings. Beth reached up and handed the driver a wad of cash.

"You sure this is where you wanna go?" The driver asked as he took the money, his doors still locked while they sat in the stopped car next to the curb.

"Yeah, this is it," Beth assured him.

"Yeah, but – it's kinda dangerous," he muttered, glancing back to her to show the concerned look on his face.

She shrugged, the metal of the Beretta cool against the skin of her lower back. "I'll be fine, I'm just meeting someone."

"Alright," he agreed, although hesitantly. He unlocked the doors and added, "Just be careful. You goin' inside somewhere? I can wait here till I see ya get in the door, if ya want."

Beth shook her head, "No, that's okay, you can go ahead. Thanks, though. That's nice of you."

He nodded wordlessly and she opened the door, getting out of the cab and putting on her bag once more before opening her umbrella. She shut the door of the yellow car and stepped away, watching it drive off down the street until she couldn't see it anymore. When she looked around at where she was, checking the street signs to assure her she'd been dropped off in the right place, she realized she wouldn't have to worry about being caught on any sort of security footage around here.

She walked to the corner and looked down the street, a line of buildings across from her. One of them was dark and extremely run-down, obviously abandoned, but one of its busted-out corner windows caught her attention. She thought she'd spotted movement, but she assumed it was probably just a trick of the light. She looked around a bit more, taking a few more steps down the sidewalk to get a better view. There were a few businesses on this street, as well as unmarked buildings, but everywhere seemed to be closed for the night or mostly dark inside. One hand clutched the handle of the umbrella while the other hesitated at her back, ready to grab the gun at any moment and defend herself. But there didn't appear to be anyone around, and the people she'd seen in the distance had disappeared by now.

It seemed that the only abandoned building on the street was the one with the window that had caught her eye. As she checked her phone once more, seeing that she still had another fifteen minutes before the "flashes" were supposed to happen, she started to wonder if that would be the building where she'd have to meet this person. There didn't appear to be anywhere else that would be safe for an illegal meeting, unless they were going to take her into one of the dark alleys. At this point, she didn't care either way. She just wanted to get it over with so she could get out of the rain and back into her warm, cozy bed. Oddly, she wasn't afraid of being mugged or attacked by a stranger right now, when most people probably would be. She'd faced far worse and come out the other end. In a way, she was almost numb to that normal sort of civilian fear. A much deeper fear of law enforcement and being recognized had become the norm for her.

After a few minutes, she reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out the piece of paper she'd jotted the information down on, checking it in the glow of the streetlights. _NW corner_ … _5 flashes_ … She stuffed it back into her pocket and went back to standing directly on the corner, a safe distance from the street while also covered by the shadows of the building behind her. Her head stayed on a swivel, searching for any sign of people or the flashes up and down the street. The minutes ticked by and the rain showed no sign of letting up. A few cars drove past here and there, but it seemed about as sleepy in this area as it had back in the neighborhood of Daryl's apartment.

She was staring at the time tick by on the screen of her phone when it hit 1:11. Immediately, her eyes shot up and began searching up and down the street, opened as wide as possible and praying she didn't miss anything.

And there it was – a flash of light, or more accurately, a flicker. Her eyes darted back to the abandoned building. Her heart sped up as she began to think she had been correct in assuming it would be that particular building. Her eyes were searching every window when another flicker happened, and she followed it with her gaze.

The broken window. She stared, willing the flash to appear again, and it did. Then another. And then one more. She stared at the window for another couple of seconds, memorizing its position before she glanced down at her phone. She'd only lost thirty seconds.

She shoved the phone in her pocket and glanced both ways down the street before dashing across, hands gripping the straps of her bag. When she made it to the other sidewalk, she jogged until she came to the front of the abandoned building. Its front had large windows that had been boarded up years ago and painted with graffiti, and several parts of the walls looked like they were about to crumble apart. There were still random letters stained above the entrance, left over from whatever businesses had previously occupied it. But there was no sign of a way to get in – no spaces in the wood or broken windows.

Beth darted around to the side, heading down the small alley that separated the abandoned building from the well-maintained building next door. She searched for a way in, squinting in the small bit of light she was being given by the streetlamps. Then she spotted it: a heavy, metal door, left open ajar with a small brick. She folded up her umbrella and held it in one hand like a weapon, then raced to the door, pulling it open and slipping inside. She closed it carefully, being sure to leave it ajar on the brick, just in case it automatically locked.

Sweat was beading on her neck and forehead as she stepped into the dark, abandoned building. She tried to steady her breathing as she pulled out her phone, squinting in the darkness. It was nearly pitch black inside. She turned on her phone's flashlight and held it out in front of her, searching in front of her for any obstructions as she walked through the large, empty room. The floors were all tile and the walls were all dark green, stained and covered with graffiti. She searched for the stairs that would lead her to the broken window, shining the light all over the room. In the far corner, she spotted a doorway leading to a staircase, and she quickly moved to walk toward it. But it looked like there'd been several squatters here recently, and Beth found herself walking very cautiously as she stepped over a crack pipe, an old pair of underwear, and what looked like a child's teddy bear.

When she finally got to the stairs, she shone her light ahead as she jogged up, relieved to see that the staircase, at least, seemed to be mostly free of trash and drug paraphernalia. When she reached the top, she turned the corner to find another set of stairs, jogging up them just the same. She was breathing heavily when she got to the landing, a few drops of sweat sliding down her neck. She found a wall straight ahead and a hallway to her right, so she turned the corner, light shining on the tile floor in front of her.

Then she stopped. There was a pair of shoes before her, and as she lifted her phone, the flashlight revealed that the shoes were connected to a pair of legs, which were connected to a person. She gasped, holding back the scream that wanted to escape from her throat. Two bright blue eyes were staring back at her.

"Password?" The man asked. He looked to be about Daryl's age and was wearing a black hoodie, some of his curly, brown hair peeking out from beneath the hood. He had pale skin and a stubbly, brown beard, and his voice was much softer than she'd anticipated. He was standing with his hands behind his back, as if he were the doorman to a private party and had been expecting Beth's arrival.

She stared at him in surprise, realizing there was a hint of light coming from a room down at the other end of the hall. She could barely see anything from the faint glow, and she wondered how this guy had been standing here in such darkness and how he wasn't as startled as she had been when she approached. But then she remembered that he was probably expecting her.

She stuttered softly, "Mary Magdalene… refuge…?"

The man cocked an eyebrow and looked her up and down, and her hand that held the phone started to quiver. The light shook and she pulled her hand in closer to her body, waiting for a response. She was almost afraid he was going to snap his fingers and make a trap door appear to swallow her whole.

Instead, he smiled. Then he instructed, "Lift up your shirt."

Beth's stomach dropped and a knot formed in her throat. Should she turn and run? She fought the urge to do so, furrowing her brows and forcing herself to speak, "Why?"

"To check for a wire," he replied simply.

She breathed a sigh of relief and inwardly rolled her eyes at her own paranoia. As she reached down and unzipped her jacket, she hesitated as she began pulling up her shirt, along with the undershirt. She knew that checking for a wire was a logical thing to do in this kind of situation, but it still felt violating.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm gay, and I get no pleasure from making people show me their chests," the man said, and she couldn't help but smirk. He didn't smile at her but she could see it in his eyes, and she knew he wasn't lying.

She lifted her shirt and watched his face carefully as he looked her up and down for any sign of a wire for about two seconds, then he nodded and motioned for her to cover herself again. She pulled her shirts back down gratefully.

"Flashlight off. Give me your phone and follow me," he told her, holding his palm out flat.

She turned off the flashlight and placed her phone in his palm, which he shoved in his pocket. The hallway was mostly dark now, and she could barely make out his face as she squinted to see. He turned on his heel and began walking toward the door where the light was coming from. Beth followed, her boots padding against the grungy tile floor. She could barely hear the rumbles of thunder from inside the thick, old walls.

The curly-haired man led her to the door, stopping just outside and turning to face her. He gave no explanation, gesturing for her to step inside. The door was open a crack, letting the small bit of light out into the hall. She stepped forward and pushed it open, stepping inside. She found that the source of the light was a kerosene lamp in the corner, its flame burning low. A shadowed figure stood near the window across from it.

She stopped in the middle of the room, its walls stained and graffiti-covered, the lamp giving the whole place an eerie glow. She heard the door shut softly from behind her and turned around to see that she was now possibly locked in this room with a stranger. She turned back to see the figure stepping forward so that the light caught his face as he lowered his hood. It revealed a bearded man with long, brown hair and a black beanie on his head. He had big, bright green eyes and for a moment, Beth thought there must've been a mistake, because he didn't look at all threatening like she'd expected.

"Rosie?" He asked. His voice was soft like the other man's, but deeper.

She nodded. "Um… were you the guy on – the phone?"

He nodded as well, smiling knowingly. "I'm Jesus. Well, that's what everyone knows me as, anyway. You're… Beth. Correct?"

Her breath caught in her throat at the sound of her real name being spoken aloud by another person. It had been so long that it sounded taboo to her ears, as if it shouldn't be mentioned in fear of someone overhearing. But there was no one to overhear.

"Um…"

He smiled again, as if he understood all too well. "It's okay. I have just as much to lose as you do. I wanted to be as vague on the phone and through our emails as possible, for obvious reasons. But we're safe here for now."

Beth nodded, a painful knot growing in her throat.

"I saw the news. I've heard from some of my connections. I know you need to get out of the country," Jesus continued, speaking very matter-of-factly but keeping his voice lowered. "The story hasn't gotten much attention so far, but it could go national any day. Your face could start popping up on screens. But even if it doesn't, you'll make the FBI's Most Wanted list regardless. You and everyone on that farm are being accused of multiple felonies. Your family has no idea where you are or where you're going, so the courts can't really use it against them anymore. But if you get caught, everything will be worse. Much worse… Even if you start over in a new state, you'll never really be safe. I can't guarantee that something like fingerprints or DNA, or whatever it may be, won't get you caught somewhere down the line if you stay in the country. Your wanted status will never just go away until they _know_ you're dead."

She nodded, staring into his intense, green eyes, absorbing every word he said. He was basically voicing every thought she'd had in the last week. But it reassured her to know that she was right in being so paranoid. Although it was a bittersweet affirmation that Maggie's note was, in fact, accurate... she'd have to leave the country.

"Your sister was in contact with me a few times after your mom and brother were killed," he continued. "She was smart to prepare. But she would've been smarter to take you and flee the country as soon as you turned eighteen. I offered to start looking into new identities the last time we corresponded in July. But she refused… She was smart, but she was too optimistic for her own good. Too protective of your father. I didn't hear from her again, but I knew to keep an eye out for her signals… I just didn't think you'd be the only one to make it out."

"Why are you talking about her like she's dead?" Beth wasn't sure where the words came from. She'd been listening intently, but the emotion had been building up inside her the whole time, and her eyes were welling with tears. She tried to focus on the facts, on what was important and what needed to be done. But she couldn't stop the water that was blurring her vision at the mention of her family's demise in such a matter-of-fact tone.

Jesus blinked, surprised. He furrowed his brow. "Beth, your sister may be facing Life in prison. I'm sorry if that's hard to hear, but it's the truth. I know that you already know what your father's fate will be. She may get off with a lighter sentence if your attorney can build up a sob story, but… well, you'll never see them again. You know that. Right? You can't. You'll always be a fugitive. Unless you want to… turn yourself in."

She shook her head, blinking away the tears as best she could and swallowing hard. "I know. I… just, she's not dead. That's all. I know all that. Trust me."

He nodded and went on, "I started searching for your new identity the moment you contacted me. I wasn't worried about payment because I know that you got away with a lot of your family's stash. I'm assuming that's what's in the bag…?"

He pointed to her bag and she nodded hesitantly, gripping the umbrella in her hand tighter.

"Smart to keep it on you," Jesus told her. "And I know you have the missing gun, too. A Beretta, right?"

She nodded again, a little worried that he knew so much. But she reminded herself that most of these facts had been publicized, and if they hadn't, he'd already confessed to having "connections" that he'd been in touch with.

"You need to get rid of it," he said sternly, giving her a look that said he was very serious. "It's a murder weapon. You should toss it into the Hudson River. Bury it out in the woods. Whatever. Just get rid of it and don't let _anyone_ know it _ever_ existed."

She swallowed and nodded again, staring back into Jesus' eyes and feeling herself shrinking before him. He cocked an eyebrow.

"Where have you been hiding out?" He asked.

She gave him a quizzical look and answered, "An apartment. I… found a room to rent. It's just this guy and his little kid and he keeps to himself so I've been staying inside all day and checking the news."

Jesus pursed his lips for a few seconds before speaking, "Have you been using the same fake name as you gave me?"

She nodded.

"And how did you get here? How many people saw you get here?"

"I took a cab. I – no one saw, except the cab driver – "

He smirked, making her feel a bit embarrassed as he interrupted, "No, I mean to the city. How did you get from Senoia to New York City?"

"Oh," she said, blushing. "I… ran."

He furrowed his brows. "You ran? You didn't run the _whole_ way… did you?"

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, but she couldn't seem to get any of them straight at the moment. The way he stared at her made her feel extremely pressured and scrutinized, and she was afraid he'd decide she was too stupid to help if she didn't say the right things.

"No, of course not. I… Well, I ran for a long time. Then I found a car and tried t'get out of Georgia, but it broke down. So I was just gonna walk, but this old couple happened to drive by and they picked me up in their RV. They were road tripping. They'd just left Atlanta – but they don't even watch the news, they had no idea who I was or anything about the situation – and I just rode with them the whole way. They dropped me off and I didn't tell them where I was gonna stay or where I was gonna go. They never saw me with my blonde hair."

Jesus nodded as he listened, his face unreadable. When she'd finished, he replied, "Okay. That's good, but that's still a couple people who know what city you're in if they end up recognizing you or hearing about you. Did anybody see you on the way up here?"

She shrugged, nervous to answer this question but continuing anyway, "Um… I guess. We stopped in D.C. and Philadelphia before we got here. I tried to keep my head down, but… it's not easy."

"No, it's not," he agreed, sighing. "That's not good. You've been seen by a lot of people. If they put enough manpower into this case, they could potentially track you here… You might have to move on to somewhere else until you can leave the country."

Dread bubbled up from the pit of Beth's stomach. "I… but – then how will I find you again? If I go somewhere else?"

He smirked, "I don't live here. I travel all over, depending on where I'm needed. Why do you think I changed our meeting time at the last minute?"

Beth shrugged. "To throw me off, in case I was an undercover cop or something…?"

He chuckled softly, "Partly, yeah. But also because I was contacted to go to the midwest tomorrow so I had to bump this meeting up to tonight. So don't worry about being out of my reach, because I'm never too far away."

"Oh," she said. The thought of having to find a way to leave the city and figure out where else she could go to hide out made her sick to her stomach. "How long until I can leave? I mean, how long will it take you to get me the new identity? I can pay you in full right now, if that helps."

Jesus' eyes dimmed a bit, and he replied, "It helps, but not much. It's an extremely risky, costly, time-consuming process. I have a careful method that keeps us all under the radar. So all I can tell you for now is to lay low, stay out of the public eye, and keep your eyes and ears open. And always be ready to run, no matter what."

She blinked. "How long?"

He sighed. "I dunno. A few months. More? I can't tell you anything for sure."

She averted her gaze to the floor, breaking their intense eye contact. She forced herself to stay quiet, to form a plan in her head. But all she could think right now was, _Fuck fuck fuck fuck , there's_ _ **NO WAY**_ _I can stay hidden for that long!_

"Running helped you survive. It got you this far. You just have to keep running a little longer," Jesus said, his voice softer.

Even though he clearly made his living doing nothing but illegal activities, this man didn't seem like a hardened criminal to Beth. He had the aura of a gentle soul, hardened by the secrecy and the danger of his life and his profession. And Beth wasn't sure, but she thought he might be the kind of person who genuinely cared about people and not just money. Why else would he have offered to help Maggie even when she didn't want it? And now it seemed that he was attempting to give her the advice that he knew Maggie would be giving her if she were able.

"I know," Beth muttered, her voice cracking. "I… I – just… I dunno where else to go. I don't know… what I'm doing."

She blinked away more tears and straightened her back, trying to force herself to gain some composure and harden her expression. She knew better than to let herself get too emotional, especially at a time like this. She needed to focus on what was important and let everything else fall to the wayside. Otherwise, she'd just be sitting in prison for the rest of her life with nothing _but_ time to get emotional.

"Not that she really had a reason to, but Maggie never told me how young you were," Jesus' voice was soft and quiet as he spoke, but Beth didn't look up to meet his piercing gaze. "I didn't realize until I saw the news… I knew your dad had started it all when you guys were young, but I didn't think you were just _children_. You're barely an adult. And now you're all alone in the world with only two choices: prison or a new life in another country… It's a lot. I know. But it'll be okay. You've come this far."

All of his words were stabbing her like a hundred tiny, little knives in her skin. She wanted to burst into tears. She wanted to scream and yell. She wanted to punch this guy in his fucking face and tell him to take his sympathy and his sad, pitiful gaze and shove it up his ass.

She wanted to jump on a plane and fly far away and never look back.

She wanted to talk to her sister. She wanted to know what the fuck she was supposed to do and if this guy was really as smart as he acted.

But she didn't do any of those things. Instead, she looked up and met his eyes again, staring back defiantly. He was giving her that pitiful look, like he felt bad for her, as he added, "Maggie will be proud of you."

She spoke, "So you're gonna tell her? You're gonna talk to her?"

He furrowed his brow, "What makes you think I can do that?"

Beth raised her eyebrows at him expectantly, "What you just said. It sounds like you're gonna talk to her. At least someday. You said you have connections. Are those connections to inmates?"

She thought she saw a smirk tug at the corner of his lips but he didn't let it show. He narrowed his green eyes and stared back at her, "Not necessarily."

She sighed. "Well, if you do… tell her I'm okay. Please. And tell her I found the picture between the money."

Jesus sighed. "I… can't promise anything. I have connections, but they're sporadic, and it's a hard time to try to talk to _any_ of those involved - especially your sister. Plus, we can't risk someone hearing that you've passed a message to her, or anyone finding out at all. It's better for her sake if she doesn't know anything about you."

Beth nodded but her chest tightened. "I understand..."

A few seconds of painful silence followed before Jesus changed the subject, "Let's get the money issue sorted so we can move forward with this. The faster I get you a passport, the faster you're on a plane to another continent."

She was grateful to jump back into the real reason they were there and pulled the bag off her shoulders. She set it on the floor and leaned down to begin opening it, asking, "Yeah. How much d'you need?"

"Fifty-k," he responded. "I'm gonna get you the full set so there won't be any chance of a complication – that means social security number, passport, birth certificate, driver's license, visa, everything. You can start working toward citizenship once you're settled in to your new home under your new identity."

She nodded as she dug around inside the bag and gathered together fifty-thousand dollars' worth of hundred-dollar bills. She had to set the money out on the floor and sort it into piles as she counted it out, but Jesus watched silently, not seeming to mind either way. She focused on counting, her lips mouthing the numbers in a breathy whisper as she tried to keep track. After a few minutes, she zipped the bag back up and gathered all the piles of bills from the floor, tying them together with a rubber band she'd taken from inside the bag.

"Do I get to pick what country I go to?" She asked as she handed the wad of cash over to Jesus, who took it and stuffed it into his hoodie pocket while she threw the bag back over her shoulders and stood up.

"Doubtful," he replied. "I'll see what I can do but it's usually not up to me. In this case, it might not be up to you either. We'll decide what the safest option is for you considering all the factors."

Beth nodded, gazing down at the floor silently.

"Where would you choose to go, if you had the option?" Jesus asked, surprising her. It sounded more out of curiosity than anything, but she still took the question seriously.

"I'm not sure," she answered honestly. "I was thinking maybe… France? I dunno. Ireland? I've heard it's beautiful there."

Jesus smirked. "France isn't such a terrible idea. But did you know Ireland would extradite you if you were ever to be identified?"

Beth shook her head. She'd thought about it before, she was aware of extradition treaties with the U.S., but she'd never looked into which countries were safe and which weren't. She was beginning to think she should do some serious research before making any further plans.

He went on, "That's the tricky part about leaving: not only do you have to get out without getting caught, but you have to find somewhere that won't send you right back. Most countries have extradition treaties with the U.S., so none of it is simple. I can't tell you where you may end up. I have no idea myself right now. But don't get your hopes up for anything in particular. Some countries are too flaky to take a risk on. Maggie and I discussed possible options in the past, but I don't want you to get your heart set on anything. Just give me time and I'll see what we can come up with."

Beth nodded, but the fear of having to move to a country she'd never heard of at the last minute was weighing on her shoulders. She wished she could talk to Maggie more than anything right now.

"Keep your head down until then. Stay hidden, don't give anyone a chance to recognize you and don't mention a _word_ about your case. I know I probably don't need to tell you that, but still," Jesus said.

"I know," she said. "So how will I know when to be ready? Can you keep me updated or something?"

"We can correspond through your email," he told her. "Not often, but I'll send a short message every now and then, whenever I learn something new. I'll be as vague as possible, but always be careful while you own a phone and use these things. I'm not an easy person to track, so just worry about not getting yourself caught."

Beth was staring back into his eyes, listening and nodding to show that she understood. He paused for a moment, almost like he was studying her or searching for something in her face.

"You've been through a lot, Beth," his voice was softer now, quieter. "You've been really strong. Maggie would be proud of you. She believed in you and she knew you had what it takes to survive. That's why she helped you escaped. I hope you know that."

She looked away, blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill forward. She stared at a stain on the wall next to her, picturing her sister's smiling face in her mind.

"I do," she answered, meeting his eyes again. "You can stop pitying me now. I appreciate the help but I don't need you feelin' bad for me. I know I'm strong; I've been strong for a while now."

Jesus shrugged and looked a bit embarrassed, but smirked nonetheless. "I don't pity you. I empathize... I know what it's like to be all alone in the world."

Beth looked away again, thinking, _No, you don't._

* * *

 _It was a Tuesday in July. The humidity was heavy in the air and the sun seemed to be melting as it hung in the sky. The small church was hot despite the ten different fans going in each window. The AC had broken in the middle of church two days ago and they were still waiting on the arrival of the part they needed to repair it._

 _Beth stood in one of the pews, sorting through stacks of literature as she separated and organized them to be slipped into each little pocket that lined the backs of the pews. Patricia and Otis were off on the other side of the room, talking quietly as they organized pamphlets and shirts and signs for an upcoming charity fundraiser. Maggie and Glenn stood near the front doors, which sat propped open with another fan, talking amongst themselves. A few feet away from them, Arnold stood listening and nodding, giving his own input every few seconds. Hershel was up front, standing behind his podium as he shuffled through paperwork. His blue eyes were looking down through his reading glasses, face scrunched up in concentration. Off towards the back of the church were a couple other people from the congregation who also worked on the farm. (These days, almost everyone who attended the church also worked on the farm, and vice versa.) One of them was Jimmy, Beth's boyfriend of over a year, who was occupied with fixing a chair in the corner. He had his toolbox open next to him, a few tools and screws scattered about the rough, dark carpet of the church floor. Sweat dripped down his reddened face as he worked, his face scrunched in concentration much like Hershel's._

 _Everyone was so pre-occupied that they hadn't even heard the car pulling up outside, or the sound of its tires crunching rocks and gravel as it had come down the narrow road. It was the sound of footsteps – heavy boots on creaky wood – that made Beth look up, and then Hershel. A woman in dark clothes and sunglasses strode through the open doors, passing right by Maggie and Glenn, who looked up in surprise, speechless. Everyone else noticed her within seconds of her entrance, but they all seemed to be pretending they hadn't, focusing on their tasks at hand and each other._

 _Hershel, on the other hand, looked up and saw her striding down the aisle between the pews, so he took off his reading glasses and set them down. He stepped down from behind the podium and walked a few feet to meet the woman, both of them stopping with only a couple feet of space between them. Beth watched silently from where she stood in the pew, unable to see the woman's facial expressions but knowing they were probably intimidating. She watched her daddy stare this woman down – she was even shorter than Beth, maybe five-foot-nothing, with dark brown hair that was tied back in a tight bun, dark sunglasses, and plain, black clothes._

 _After years of being warned and prepared, Beth could recognize a cop when she saw one._

" _Officer Lerner," Hershel smiled, blue eyes sparkling like always. He stood with his back straight and hands folded in front of him, confidence in his posture._

" _It's_ _ **Detective**_ _." The woman's tone was sharp and deadly serious. Her mouth barely moved when she talked, and she refused to take off her sunglasses._

" _Oh, my mistake, Dawn," Beth watched the smirk appear on her daddy's face and she fought back one of her own, his voice full of guile._

 _She couldn't see what sort of expression Detective Lerner was making in response to that, but her tone got sharper and she was nearly spitting words at the old man. "Nice service on Sunday. I particularly liked your elaboration on Romans thirteen and that part in the first book of Peter. And Romans seven? Interesting choice… I think I learned a lot."_

 _Beth could tell that this officer's words meant more than they were saying. Her daddy knew it, too, because his expression wavered occasionally, but he stood his ground. He smiled and answered with, "I'm glad to hear it. Truly. Anyone I can reach with the Lord's word is just one more good deed in His eyes… God is there for you to lean on. I imagine you need a lot of faith to do a job like yours,_ _ **Detective**_ _."_

 _Dawn sighed, "I thought you'd be happy about the arrest, Hershel…"_

 _Hershel's smile didn't falter, "Overjoyed. Only thing that could be better's if you'd caught the other guy."_

" _We still don't know there were two," she snapped, as if it were obvious. "And oddly enough, the guy we arrested would barely talk to us. So even if he had an accomplice, we couldn't get a damned thing from him… Won't even_ _ **look**_ _at us when we ask him about_ _ **you**_ _… But there weren't any witnesses, remember…?"_

 _She glanced over her shoulder and Beth saw her sunglasses and stoic expression for a split-second before she looked down, avoiding the older woman's gaze. Her hands were shaking as she shuffled through the literature in her hands, trying to look busy._

 _She heard her father's voice again, "I reckon you should've been askin' him about whoever he worked for. And sadly, no, there weren't any witnesses to that heinous crime. But I'd think y'all could tell that much from the scene. You certainly spent long enough hangin' around my farm, disturbing my family, interrupting our_ _ **private**_ _time of mourning. And even now, when I should be grieving for the stolen lives of my wife and young son, you and your goons can't stop creeping around. Don't get me wrong – I think being in church on a Sunday is about the best thing you can be doin' for yourself. But I see your ill intentions, Detective."_

 _Beth saw Dawn's jaw move, as though she were opening her mouth to talk but changed her mind. Hershel continued when she didn't say anything._

" _You don't have a warrant. No judge in their right mind will listen to you or your insane babblings about me and my family." His voice had grown deeper, more serious, and every set of eyes in the small church was discreetly watching him. "I suggest you head back down the road and leave us be. We have a lot of work to do."_

 _Dawn leaned in closer, lowering her voice, but Beth could still make out her words, "Once we catch you slipping – and you_ _ **will**_ _slip, they_ _ **always**_ _slip – that'll be the end. I know you've convinced a lot of vulnerable people that you're doin' God's work, but I'm not falling for it, old man. One wrong move and your little house of cards comes toppling down. You really wanna take all these nice, hard-working people down with you?"_

 _Hershel's blue eyes weren't sparkling anymore, and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. He stared at Detective Lerner intently, unwilling to break eye contact. He spoke clearly, loud enough for everyone in the church to hear, even over all the noisy fans, "'No servant can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve_ _ **God**_ _and_ _ **money**_ _.'"_

' _Luke 16:13,' Beth thought, 'But why is he quoting Bible verses right now? This woman knows what we're doing, she's waiting to catch us at any moment. Why didn't Daddy tell me about this? Does Maggie know?' She was frozen, waiting for a response from the other woman that never came._

 _Hershel continued, "You don't know me very well, Detective Lerner, but you seem t'really want to. The most important thing you can learn is that I am a man of God, through and through. I am many other things: a father, a widower, an uncle, a brother, a friend. But I am not a criminal. And I am not dangerous. And the very notion that you would… enter_ _ **my**_ _church, the place of worship where I have poured my blood, sweat, and tears into over many years just for the sake of spreading God's love to others… and accuse me, my family, my friends. This is my congregation! We worship God, we donate to charity, we volunteer our time to the community. I just can't, for the_ _ **life**_ _of me, imagine_ _ **why**_ _a respected officer of the law – a recently promoted_ _ **Detective**_ _! – is questioning us, trying to… to incriminate us-? When we're here, preparing our posters and our collection bins and our Bibles – " He gestured dramatically to the people scattered amongst the church and the various projects they were working on, " – trying to-to prepare for another attempt at putting just a little love back into our community and to those who need it most, despite our great pain from a very large,_ _ **very**_ _recent loss. Why are you so intent on stopping us, Detective? What sort of vendetta do you have against my family? Haven't we suffered_ _ **enough**_ _?"_

 _Everyone was openly watching now, eyes staring at the pair as Hershel spoke. He was intense and spoke with conviction, and if Beth hadn't already known her daddy as well as she did, she'd think Dawn Lerner were a pretty big damn fool right now. The others in the church – some of them still ignorant of how ruthless Hershel could actually be when it came to business – were staring open-mouthed, appearing to be in disbelief that this officer of the law was harassing an innocent, old man. After a few seconds of being speechless, Dawn glanced around to see all the eyes pointed in her direction. She looked straight at Hershel, hands clenched into tight fists at her sides._

" _I'm_ _ **not**_ _alone, you know. And you've got a lot on the line here. Someone, somewhere is gonna fuck up, and then…?" She leaned in closer, and Beth had to strain her ears to hear the last few words, "The wrath of_ _ **God**_ _will come down upon you…_ _ **and**_ _your family."_

 _Hershel smiled as Lerner leaned back and spun on her heel, marching out of the church without a glance in anyone else's direction. He called after her, waving, "_ _ **'We live by faith, not by sight**_ _.' Stop by next Sunday, we'll be discussing Corinthians!"_

 _Beth watched the detective leave, then listened as her car door slammed and the tires kicked up rocks and gravel speeding off down the road. Everyone in the small church seemed to have stopped what they were doing, staring at Hershel and waiting for an explanation. Beth was, too. He looked to her first, making eye contact for the first time since Dawn had entered. He didn't say anything, but his expression told her everything she needed to know. It told her that they would talk later… and it wouldn't be a very good talk._

 _He turned to everyone else and smiled, gesturing for them to resume what they'd been doing. "Sorry for the interruption everyone. Might I remind you all…_ _ **'those who desire to live a godly life in Christ will be persecuted.'**_ _…And that's all I'll say on that for now."_

 _Beth watched her daddy walk down the aisle and out the front doors to step outside for some fresh air. She could see the vein in the top of his head that appeared when he was stressed, and even though everyone else in the room seemed to be pleased with the outcome of that particular conflict, Maggie was looking at Beth and mirroring her expression of worry._

 _Hershel's front had worked for now, but he couldn't keep anything from his daughters in the long run._

* * *

The ride back to the apartment seemed to pass by in a heartbeat. Beth was so wrapped up in her own thoughts and worries, staring at the screen of her phone while she looked up a list of countries that didn't have extradition treaties with the U.S. Her mind was running a hundred miles a minute as she tried to process the meeting she'd just had with Jesus. It had been nothing like she'd expected, but in a good way. She'd been preparing herself for some kind of criminal, but instead, she'd found a man who felt the need to play the part of her big brother. She hadn't expected it, nor wanted it, but for a few moments after she'd left the dark, abandoned building, she'd felt just a tiny bit closer to Maggie. She missed her big sister horribly. But she knew that she didn't really _need_ her. Not anymore.

It was close to three in the morning when Beth reached the front door of the apartment. She unlocked it as quietly as possible and slipped inside, finding everything just as dark and silent as it had been when she'd left. She returned the umbrella to its original spot without leaving any lasting evidence that it had ever been used. She was grateful to see the boys' bedroom door still closed and no sign of Daryl in the bathroom. She snuck into her bedroom and shut the door tightly, then unpacked her things and put everything back into its safe place. Her bag was now fifty-thousand dollars lighter as she shoved it under the bed.

After she'd stripped down and taken out her contacts, as well as gazed at the photo from under her pillow for a few seconds, she lay in bed with her phone. She scrolled through the news sites, not expecting to find any updates but knowing it would calm her anyway. After several minutes of checking and double-checking, she found herself distracted by all the other news articles. She read through and clicked different headlines, getting her mind off of her own problems for a bit.

The longer she read, the more tired her eyes became. She wasn't so much physically exhausted as she was emotionally exhausted. She hadn't expected so many reminders of her sister during this meeting. But then again, it was encouraging. She had a lot to be thankful to Maggie for, including having a reliable connection that could help them get out of the country under new names. She was grateful that at least one of them had thought to prepare for the worst case scenario.

After about an hour, her eyelids were growing heavier and heavier, and after drifting off with her phone still in her hand a few times, Beth gave in and plugged it into the charger, then set it on the nightstand. She rolled over and wrapped the blankets around herself, closing her eyes. Within seconds, she was drifting off to a dreamless sleep.

Without the worry of answering a phone call or catching an extremely important text message, Beth was able to sleep soundly and without interruption. She was so drained that nothing budged her awake for hours on end. Finishing with meeting Jesus was like an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and now she could sleep without being jolted awake to the reality of utter fear. She had a plan now, and it was set into motion. All she had to do was sit it out and wait. The lack of such reassurance had been half of her stress in itself.

Her eyes fluttered open to see that there was light sneaking into her bedroom from the spaces around her door, and she could hear the sounds of people talking and moving about in the apartment. She lay still for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling and silently thanking God for every lucky break she'd been given so far. She was mostly grateful that she hadn't had any haunting dreams.

The longer she listened, she could make out the sounds of raindrops on the roof and the occasional low rumbles of thunder. It seemed to still be storming from the night before, although not as steadily. Beth glanced over to see that the clock read 2:28. She blinked, unsure that she was reading it correctly. She was shocked to realize she'd slept for nearly twelve hours.

She sat up, stretching and yawning. She ran a hand through her messy hair, somewhat taming it. She reached out and grabbed her phone from the nightstand, unplugging it and checking for notifications. There were no texts from Irma, no emails from Jesus, and no phone calls. Her hand automatically went to the news sites, checking for updates. There was still nothing national, but when she checked the Georgia news, she found something new… and horrible.

The headline was the second largest on the site at the moment, and she clicked the link that read: _Nineteen-Year-Old Inmate Found Dead; Former Boyfriend of Wanted Beth Greene_.

Her heart skipped a beat and nearly stopped inside her chest. Her breath caught in her throat. She scrolled down to read the article:

 _ATLANTA (7:32 AM_ _ **):**_ _In a shocking update that points to vital connections with the case of the Greene Family and their multi-million dollar drug operation, WSAV has learned that James A. Cline of Senoia, 19, has passed away while being held on recent charges. He was known to have been the long-term boyfriend of wanted fugitive, Beth Greene. Police have refused to comment on the status of the Greene Family case at this time._

 _Sources report that Cline passed away on the evening of August 30th. Officers found his body hanging inside his cell at Atlanta Grady Detention Center, apparently self-inflicted. They attempted resuscitation, but 19-year-old Cline had already been cut off from oxygen for well over 30 minutes. His death was kept confidential until next of kin were notified and all alleged evidence tying him to the active case was found unusable. A private funeral service was held for him by close family members and friends last night, on Saturday, September 2nd._

 _James Cline, affectionately referred to by family members and friends as "Jimmy," was known to have been dating 18-year-old Beth Greene since the summer of 2016. The most interesting part isn't that they were together, though: it's that he was charged for a crime that our sources say police believe is deeply entwined with the Greene Family drug operation._

 _Cline was arrested and booked into police custody on the night of August 25th after a 911 call was placed from none other than Beth Greene. The 18-year-old reported that her "ex-boyfriend" had broken into her family's home and was high on drugs and acting aggressive. Police responded to find Cline bruised and battered from an unreported incident earlier in the day, attempting to assault Hershel Greene, as well as Greene's son-in-law, Glenn Rhee. Cline gave no explanation as to what had happened to him prior in the day or if it was connected to the Greene family. He refused to answer any questions as to why he had chosen to trespass and break into his former girlfriend's family home and attempt to attack her before being diverted by her father and brother-in-law. Multiple bags containing nearly 1 pound of meth altogether were found on his person. He was extremely intoxicated, and sources say it took multiple officers to subdue him and take him into custody. Later, his blood levels confirmed that he was high on methamphetamine, marijuana, Xanax, and had a blood-alcohol level of .012._

 _His first appearance before a judge was on August 28th, where he was informed that he would be charged with breaking and entering, trespassing, burglary, possession with intent to distribute methamphetamine, and possession of drug paraphernalia. He had not contacted an attorney and with a bail set at over $200,000, there was no bond placed for him. Despite having a previously clean record, he was reportedly refusing the plea deal being offered to him by police._

 _Anonymous sources say they suspect the police had been interrogating him about his involvement with the Greene Family operation, because he had been in and out of his cell and seen with multiple detectives between early on August 26th and just hours before he took his own life on the night of the 30th. These sources also believe it was Cline's information that ultimately led to Detective Shane Walsh and Detective Rick Grimes being sent inside the Greene Family home on the evening of August 26th, armed with a judge-granted warrant that they had been working with several other detectives for months to obtain. Could the meth found on Cline's person originally have come from Hershel Greene? Or was Cline using legal ultimatums to exact revenge on his former girlfriend?_

 _Police remain tight-lipped about the Greene Family case. All questions about James Cline's death have been turned down for comments under strict orders from the lead detective on the Greene case, Officer Dawn Lerner. When WSAV reached out to the family of the deceased, they did not return any calls._

 _Stay tuned for more updates on this, as well as the fate of the Greene Family operation, as information comes in._

Beth felt the bile rising in her throat. She thought she might be sick right then and there. She swallowed hard, trying to push off the sensation. She touched her phone's screen with shaky, unsteady fingers, navigating her way to the Atlanta news site. She found a similar headline and a similar update, posted just a couple of hours later than the original. It was the third largest link, but Beth couldn't bring herself to read it, let alone open it. She set her phone face-down on the nightstand and stood up, taking deep breaths and trying to steady her hands.

Jimmy was dead. _Gone_. Just like that. _Forever_. He'd never be coming back. He'd never be alive anywhere else. He would never be older than nineteen. Beth would never, ever, _ever_ have to see his face or hear his voice again.

She was torn. Half of her was shaken to the very core, terrified and guilty at the same time, afraid this was all her fault and that he wouldn't be dead – nor would her family have ever been arrested – if it weren't for her. While the other half of her was relieved. She knew it made her an awful person to feel happy that someone died, but she couldn't help that she felt like a giant cut had just been stitched up. No, it wasn't healed, and it wasn't even close to being better, but it was dealt with. It was over. She wouldn't have to worry about that particular thing ever again. Jimmy had become one of her biggest nightmares. He'd transformed like a werewolf right before her eyes and before she knew it, he was a violent, hurtful, dangerous boy with an addiction problem and a dark, horrible, selfish mind. But now… he was gone.

There were so many questions in her mind. Most importantly, how had this not gone national yet? These stations were really pumping the story up as much as possible, and she wasn't even sure if they really had "sources" or if any of those things had been true. But she knew that at least half of it was factual, because she'd been there and witnessed it. And it was impossible to make a 911 call and keep it hidden. She'd known all along, in the back of her mind, that it would only be a matter of time until the news reporters had caught on, or they'd done the right amount of research, and discovered Jimmy and his little drug charges. But she hadn't expected to see the connection that indicated him as the catalyst for the downfall of her entire family. Somehow, it had never occurred to her. She hadn't had the foresight to think of how the detectives could've possibly cornered Jimmy and used him once they had him in custody. On top of everything else, should she hate him even more now for telling police whatever it was they needed to know to get a warrant and send two cops into her house?

Or was it possible that he was actually killed for exactly that reason…? Beth had no idea the depths of her father's connections or just how much he was capable of, especially now that he was in the corrections system and had nothing more to lose. Had he already found out what Jimmy did? Not that he needed any _more_ reasons to have Jimmy killed. But she'd learned a long time ago to never underestimate Hershel.

The walls of her bedroom were beginning to feel like they were closing in on her. She took a few more deep breaths, but the air tasted stale. Her head was swimming and her throat was burning with both tears and bile. She slipped on a shirt and pants and left the bedroom, immediately turning right and heading straight for the bathroom. The door was open and it was empty, so she rushed inside, slamming the door behind her. She stumbled over the cool tile to the toilet, lifting the seat and crouching down to her knees in front of it. As soon as she allowed her body to do what it needed, she began vomiting into the toilet water. She coughed and heaved until her stomach was empty of nearly everything.

For a few minutes, she sat on her knees, head over the toilet bowl as she coughed and spit and tried to clear her mouth of the vile taste of thrown-up food. Her head was still swimming, but her stomach felt considerably better and she had stopped shaking once she was finished. After flushing, she brushed her teeth and splashed her face with cool water, taking deep breaths and finding the relief she'd been seeking.

When she left the bedroom, she saw Daryl sitting on the couch and watching TV in the living room, and she couldn't see Malachi but she could hear him playing around the corner. She saw Daryl glance up at the sound of her leaving the bathroom, and she looked down so he wouldn't notice her blue eyes. He didn't say anything, though, and she slipped back into her bedroom in silence.

The room felt normal again, and she was still reassuring herself in her head. She tried to let the good outweigh the bad and consider this a loose end that was finally tied up. But the bad thoughts kept poking their heads up, and the guilt was making itself at home in the back corner of her mind.

She lay down gently atop the bed, resting her head on the pillow and focusing on her breaths. She reached one hand under the pillow and gripped the ticking pocket watch in her hand. Her pulse pounded in time with it. She closed her eyes and pictured her daddy's smiling face, her momma right beside him, Shawn and Maggie talking in the distance. She pictured their green backyard, the silhouettes of Patricia and Otis and Arnold and a dozen others off in the fields and by the barn. She tried to remember what the Georgia air felt like on the back of her neck, or how ear-piercingly loud the cicadas were in the evening.

After about an hour of lying completely still and trying to calm herself, she found the motivation to get up and take a shower. She knew it would make her feel better, but she was also inexplicably tired. Yet not tired enough to drift back off to sleep.

She dragged herself out of bed and gathered her brown contacts and the cleanest pieces of clothing she could find, averting her eyes away from the crucifix on the wall that seemed to be staring her down. She left her bedroom and shut the door tight, then walked to the bathroom quietly without a glance towards the living room. She locked the door behind her and stripped down, stepping under the hot water and letting it wash away all the remnants of the smell of mold and dust from the old building that had settled in her hair and skin the night before.

The silence of the bathroom and the warm water calmed her even more, and she felt immensely better when she stepped out and dried off. She dressed slowly and leisurely, doing the same when she brushed her hair and patted it dry with the towel. She carefully slipped in the brown contacts and left the bathroom, leaving the exhaust fan on to air out the rest of the steam. This time, as she stepped down the hall toward her bedroom, she met Daryl's eyes when he glanced over at her from his spot on the couch. He gave a nod of greeting and she returned it before slipping back into her room and closing the door.

Beth returned to her bed, sitting up while she scrolled through the news sites on her phone. She forced herself to skim through the other article about Jimmy, just to be sure that they didn't have any different information. She found all the same facts and speculation worded into slightly different sentences, to her relief, and quickly exited the news sites altogether. With a sigh, she set the phone down and got up again, restlessness arising inside her.

When she left her bedroom to stroll to the kitchen, she saw that Daryl was still sitting on the couch, watching something on TV with deep interest. Malachi was playing on the floor a few feet away, glancing at the TV every now and then but mostly engulfed in the imaginary scenarios he was playing out with his toys. His toy box sat open nearby, and several dolls and action figures were scattered amongst the carpet. He glanced up to see Beth gliding into the kitchen, but he didn't seem to care because he went right back to his toys without a word to her.

Daryl, however, didn't let it go unnoticed, calling to her from the couch, "Left ya a sandwich from lunch in the microwave, if yer hungry."

Beth opened the microwave and checked to find that there was, in fact, something wrapped in foil sitting inside before answering, "Oh, thanks!"

Admittedly, she had no appetite at the moment. But she knew she needed to put something inside her stomach to replace what she'd lost earlier. She glanced at the cabinet above the fridge, hesitating for a second. Her stomach was silent, but her mind was still buzzing with thoughts of Jimmy and the news articles. She stepped over and quietly retrieved the bottle of moonshine, taking off the cap and throwing back a sip. Honestly, it was more out of curiosity than anything – she wanted to either assure herself that alcohol was a bad idea right now, or that it was the answer to all her problems. But as soon as it slid down her esophagus, her stomach churned and gurgled in protest. She cringed and returned the bottle to its spot in the cabinet, turning away in disgust. She wasn't sure what she'd really been expecting, but at least she knew that it wasn't going to help her right now.

In hopes that the smell of cooking food would bring her appetite back, Beth unwrapped the sandwich from its foil to find a cheesesteak, the bread still soft and warm. The meat, vegetables, and cheese had gotten a little cold, so she placed the sandwich on the plate without the foil and returned it to the microwave to heat it up. After pouring herself a glass of ginger ale from the fridge, she took the plate and her drink over to the table in the corner, where she sat down silently and began forcing herself to eat until it tasted good. The ginger ale helped to ease the gurgling in her stomach.

Daryl continued to sit in silence as he watched TV, occasionally glancing over at Beth from the corner of his eye. Malachi was speaking quietly to himself, voicing multiple characters and creating the sound effects for his toys' action sequences, having only glanced at Beth when she sat down and given her a brief wave of greeting. About halfway into the sandwich, she realized she was probably being rude by not speaking.

"Thanks for saving me some lunch," she said softly, glancing at Daryl. He nodded and continued watching TV.

She turned to look at the screen, watching for a few moments as she absent-mindedly ate and trying to figure out what show it was. But in all honesty, she hadn't watched any real television in quite a while. The farm had become more than enough to keep her and her family busy, and when she had time to kill, she usually resorted to writing or music. She hadn't expected Daryl to be the type to sit down and watch TV either. But she figured this must be his only day of real relaxation during the week.

The rain continued outside, and some of the curtains had been pulled back from the windows in the living room to reveal a cloudy sky with hints of sunlight trying to break through. It was already nearing evening and the rumbles of thunder continued every few minutes, but there was no lighting to accompany it. From where she sat, Beth could see some of the tops of buildings outside and saw that everything in the distance looked wet. The rain had soaked the whole city all night and all day long. She wondered if that was half the reason for Daryl and Malachi's homebody attitudes today.

As Beth finished the last bites of her sandwich, continuing to sip the ginger ale occasionally, she watched the TV with mild interest. There were a lot of people she didn't recognize talking to each other, covered in blood and dirt and sweat. There were also a lot of weapons, from guns to machetes to crossbows.

"What're you watching?" She finally asked, looking to Daryl.

He didn't meet her gaze, continuing to watch the action on the screen as he answered, "Just this dumb zombie show I started watchin' a couple years back. Got me hooked, I've been watchin' ever since. They're playin' a marathon today."

Beth smirked to herself as she watched with him, surprised that he indulged in something as fantastical as "zombies." She got up and took her plate to the sink, pouring herself some more ginger ale before returning to the living room. She set her glass on the coffee table and sat down on the couch, a few spots away from Daryl. They were in similar positions as they had been on the night that they'd sat in silence. The memory popped into Beth's head for a second before she was able to distract herself with what was happening on the TV screen. Before long, all the awkward or uncomfortable feelings she had were gone, and she was just sitting on the couch while watching TV with her roommate. The normalcy was comforting.

About a half hour, and maybe five particularly graphic zombie deaths on the TV, passed before Malachi spoke up from his spot on the floor, "Dad, what's fer supper?"

Daryl looked to his son, his concentration on the TV show broken, and answered, "I dunno, whadd'ya want?"

Malachi shrugged, adjusting the head on one of his action figures. "I'unno."

"That's not very helpful," Daryl mumbled, watching the TV again.

"I'll make somethin'," Beth volunteered. "Any requests?"

Daryl shrugged without a glance at Beth. "I'unno."

She chuckled. "You're about as helpful as the toddler."

He rolled his eyes and gave a smirk but kept watching his show, so Beth got up and went to the kitchen to look around and decide what to make. She welcomed the busywork as a distraction for her mind, letting herself think only about the food she was cooking and the bits of the show she could see on the TV from the kitchen. She didn't ask the boys if they would eat what she was making, assuming they would begin to smell it and get hungry. And sure enough, after a short while, Daryl wandered into the kitchen during a commercial break to survey the situation.

Beth had tomato soup cooking in a pot on the stove, and she was currently preparing grilled cheese sandwiches in a pan next to it. Daryl gazed into the pot of soup, intrigued.

"Didn't realize I bought enough soup fer all of us," he commented, assuming she'd warmed up the cans of condensed tomato soup that he'd bought.

"You didn't. I made it with my momma's recipe," Beth replied without thinking. She stopped herself before saying anything more, though.

Daryl grunted in surprise, "Didn't realize we had the ingredients, then."

She gave him a small smile that said he was underestimating her, and he nodded in approval before going to the cabinets and retrieving plates and bowls for the meal. As Beth stirred the soup absent-mindedly, keeping her eye on the melting cheese between the bread in the pan, she remembered something that she'd been forgetting for the last couple of days.

"By the way, where d'you go to do your laundry?" She asked.

As he poured glasses of juice for himself and Malachi, Daryl answered, "Oh, we go to Carol's. She's got a washer an' dryer. I ain't got the space for 'em."

Beth felt a small pinch of anxiety and decided to push off the thought of going to Carol's apartment and having to ask permission to wash her clothes for now. Maybe she'd even avoid it altogether and just find a laundromat. She didn't like the way Carol had looked at her, and she was guessing that Carol wasn't very impressed by her either.

"Mal, we're havin' grilled cheese an' tomato soup!" Daryl called, picking up the two glasses of juice he'd poured and carefully taking them to the dining table.

Beth could hear Malachi's voice asking his father a question, but couldn't make out the words from where she stood in the kitchen. She began spooning the soup out into bowls, giving Malachi's a half-portion. She then placed the grilled cheese sandwiches on the plates just as Daryl re-entered the kitchen.

"Thanks for cookin'," Daryl said, carefully picking up Malachi's designated bowl and plate.

"No problem. Seemed like the perfect supper for this weather," Beth answered with a content smile as she finished browning the last bits of her own sandwich and placed it on her plate while Daryl took his son's meal to the table.

Without a mention of it, Daryl retrieved a fold-up chair he'd forgotten about from his bedroom and set it in the empty spot at the table. The surface was a bit crowded with three bowls, three glasses, and three plates, but the trio ate in content silence as Daryl continued to watch the TV from where he sat and Malachi asked questions about the show while slopping tomato soup all over his chin. Beth watched them both with amusement, eating her small portions of food slowly as she was still mostly full from her lunch.

When a long commercial break came on, Daryl devoted his full attention to his meal and helping Malachi get more soup into his mouth than onto his face. He asked Beth casually, "So ya made friends with the girls yesterday?"

The question startled her as she didn't expect much small talk around Daryl. But she shrugged. "I 'spose. I dunno if they really like me but they seemed nice."

He finally looked over at her, but she couldn't read his expression. She wondered if he was trying to be friendly because the closeness made him feel obligated or if he was genuinely curious. "They invited ya out, didn't they? Yer their friend now. Don't really have a say in it. I didn't, anyway."

Beth chuckled and he smirked back, assuring her that he was only half-joking.

"Did ya like the class? Learn anything?" He asked.

She shrugged again, feeling her cheeks blushing lightly. "Yeah, it was – really interesting. I liked it. Thanks for inviting me."

He nodded, pleased. "It's every week, if ya wanna come again. 'M sure the girls expect ya to be there."

Beth thought about asking if Carol would be there next week, but Malachi spoke up with a question instead.

"Dad, um – can uh, can we r-read Harry Potter tonight?" The toddler asked, tripping on his words as he tried to focus on his sandwich at the same time.

Daryl looked over at his son and smiled, "Ain't you tired o' that yet?"

Malachi grinned goofily and shook his head with wide, excited eyes, "No! I love it!"

Daryl shook his head and Beth interjected, feeling the sudden urge to be included after spending the afternoon with the pair, "Which one are you reading?"

Malachi met her eyes and answered, "Chanberd of Seek-rits!"

"Chamber of Secrets," Daryl corrected as he helped himself to another spoonful of soup.

"Oh, I love those books. Can I read with you?" Beth asked, watching Malachi's eyes light up at the prospect.

He nodded eagerly, "Yeah! Will you, um, will y'do the voices like Dad does?"

Beth's eyebrows rose in surprise and she looked to Daryl with a surprised smile. "You do the _voices_?"

Daryl stared down into his soup and shrugged, trying not to look up. "A li'l."

After the trio had finished their dinner and cleaned up their dishes, as well as put away the leftovers, Malachi eagerly showed Beth his collection of Harry Potter books and opened up the "Chamber of Secrets" for her to begin reading. Daryl turned down the TV and sat on the couch, paying his full attention to the book-reading. Beth and Malachi sat down on the floor together amongst his toys and she found the chapter in the book where the pair had previously left off. She began reading, the words taking her full attention as she attempted to do character voices and give emphasis to the sentences she was reading aloud. A few times, she glanced up to see Malachi staring at her in wonder, eyes wide and intrigued, laughing when she'd do a particularly funny voice or speaking up about his dislike of some characters. From the corner of her eye, she saw Daryl sitting on the couch, watching her and Malachi carefully while he listened. There were a couple times when she swore she saw him smile just like his son.

They sat together, Beth reading aloud, for well over an hour. Around 7:30, there was a knock at the door, and Daryl motioned for Beth to continue while he jumped up and answered it. Malachi and Beth glanced over to see Carol once Daryl had opened the door, but the toddler turned his attention back to the book while Beth watched the pair from her peripherals. She tried to focus on the book, but she could hear Daryl and Carol talking quietly to each other. The exchange only lasted a couple of minutes before the short-haired woman waved over Daryl's shoulder to Beth and Malachi before turning and heading to her apartment. Daryl shut the door and returned to his spot on the floor next to his son.

Beth didn't ask what they talked about. Instead, she continued reading, letting herself get lost in the magical wizarding world once more. But once it was nearing eight o'clock, Daryl announced that it was time for Malachi to pick up his toys and get ready for bed. Beth obliged and slipped the bookmark back in between the pages of the thick book, having just stopped at the end of a chapter. Malachi protested but was quickly silenced by a stern look from his father.

Daryl helped the toddler pick up his scattered toys, returning them to the toy box before leading Malachi to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Beth carefully placed the book back in its spot on the shelf of the bookcase, then slipped into her bedroom and shut the door. She could hear the sounds of the water running in the sink next door and the boys talking to each other as she grabbed her phone and began scrolling through the news sites. It was reassuring to find no new updates about her family.

She reached beneath her pillow and felt the gun still in its spot, as well as the pocket watch. She pulled out the photo and held it up, gazing at it for a bit in the light from her beside lamp. She wondered if Jesus would ever have a way to pass messages to Maggie. She wanted her sister to know she was okay. But maybe Maggie wasn't even concerned with Beth right now. What if she was too worried about her own fate? She'd be facing court soon, and a sentencing of who knows how long. If anything, Beth feared she was jealous of her little sister for being free. Did she assume she was already in another country? If she'd corresponded with Jesus the way he'd said she had, then she must know how long the process actually took.

Frustrated, Beth shoved the photo back under her pillow and tried to clear her head of thoughts about her sister. She was no mind reader, and Maggie had never been easy to predict. Beth wished more than anything that she could just exchange one letter with her big sister. She just needed to know what she was supposed to do, or if Maggie had a plan at the end of all this.

The sounds in the bathroom had silenced for several minutes. Beth stared up at the ceiling blankly, feeling as though she should be crying about Jimmy but finding no urge to do such a thing. A light knock at the door made her jump, shaking her from her thoughts. She looked at the door quizzically before standing and walking over to open it.

It was Daryl, obviously. But he'd changed into pajamas. "What're ya doin' in here?"

Beth shrugged, hand still on the door as she held it partly open. "Nothin'. Reading stuff on my phone, I guess."

Daryl glanced around behind her, as if expecting to see another person. He nodded and muttered, "Wanna finish that marathon with me? New episode starts soon."

She was taken aback by his offer, but accepted without hesitation. "Sure. That'd be – nice."

He didn't smile but nodded again and turned to lead her back to the living room couch. She followed, spotting the bedroom door at the end of the hall open just a crack. They took their spots on the couch, the same as earlier, and resumed watching the show as if they'd never left. Daryl kept the volume a bit lower to help Malachi sleep.

Beth found herself distracted for a while. Her head was still racing with all the thoughts it normally was. It was beginning to get annoying. She didn't want such a busy mind and so many unanswered questions. She could try to distract herself with making friends with Daryl or his son, or getting wrapped up in the drama of random women she'd just met, but at the end of the day, she was alone with herself and all her thoughts… and everything she'd done. Not even a quiet night of TV on the couch could make her forget how much she had to worry about in the coming months. And having no deadline or end date in sight for this suffering was causing her even more stress.

After an especially gory depiction of a zombie getting its head smashed in the trunk of a car, Daryl spoke up suddenly to ask Beth, "Want some ice cream?"

She nodded instinctually, dragged back to reality by the question as Daryl jumped up and headed to the kitchen. She hadn't even realized they had ice cream. Within moments, Daryl returned with two bowls of chocolate ice cream, handing one to Beth before taking his seat again. She took the bowl happily and began digging in while watching TV wordlessly.

When the new episode came on the screen, Daryl made random comments every few minutes or so, his empty ice cream bowl sitting next to Beth's on the coffee table. Beth was amused by his indulgence in the plot of the show and glanced at him when he talked. She laughed aloud at him when he got angry about a side character's death, and he cursed quietly at the television while she stifled her giggles.

She found herself happily distracted by the time the show was over. Daryl shook his head and changed the channel, turning to Beth.

"Think I'mma head t'bed," he told her, and she nodded in agreement.

"Me, too. Even though I probably won't be able to sleep," she said, standing from the couch and stretching.

"Well, got that booze in there," Daryl said, turning off the TV and standing and grabbing the bowls to take them to the kitchen sink.

Beth cringed and shook her head, "Not really feelin' it tonight. My stomach's been a little uh – upset today."

She saw him nod in understanding as he filled the bowls with water at the sink and left them, shutting off all the lights except for above the stove. He chuckled, but it seemed to be more to himself than to her, as if he'd just made a private joke in his head.

"Yeah, been there. That's why I got medical weed," he mumbled.

Beth quirked an eyebrow, "Is that what you were smokin' the other night?"

His face fell and he met her eyes, quickly muttering, "Yeah. Does it bother you?"

She shook her head, "No. It's just not for me."

He shrugged, "Me either. I just need it every once in a while… It was one o' those days."

She knew he meant the anniversary of Malachi's mother's death, but she didn't say it. Instead, she nodded and turned her body to gesture that she was going to return to her bedroom. Daryl muttered a goodnight and turned to head to his own room while she slipped behind her door and shut it tightly.

Beth lay in bed, in the darkness, for a while. The time ticked by just as slowly as it had the last few nights, but now she had nothing to look forward to. She scrolled through news articles on her phone mindlessly, but her eyes weren't growing tired. When she gave up on that, she turned on the lamp and slipped out into the living room to grab a book from the bookcase. She read for hours, and eventually, the warmth of her bed alongside the sound of the steady rainfall outside made her eyes weary as she absorbed chapter after chapter. The apartment was silent the entire time as Daryl and Malachi slept peacefully down the hall.

She finally fell asleep just before dawn, as the rain eased up and the clouds dissipated into fog outside. After a relieving break for the past couple of nights, she began dreaming again. But this time, it was nonsensical, and all Beth could remember when she woke up were zombies from the show she'd been watching with Daryl and lots of special appearances from Rosita, Tara, Clem, and Enid.

And she couldn't quite remember exactly, but she was pretty sure that Daryl had been in one of her dreams, too.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the wait on this chapter. I had a really hectic and exhausting week with work and errands and this chapter ended up longer than I'd planned so I wanted to make sure it was perfect before posting. No wins from the Moonshine Awards this year, but that's okay, because being nominated was honestly amazing for me, so I'm just stoked on that. Thank you SOOOO much if you voted for me, though! :)  
If you couldn't tell, the other character making a cameo in this chapter alongside Jesus is Aaron, though I couldn't name him specifically for pretty obvious reasons. I hope you liked this chapter and what I'm slowly revealing about the Greene family and their operation. But if you don't, feel free to let me know. To answer a question I recently received: no, we will most likely NOT be seeing the other side of the Greene's - as in, them in court and in prison and whatnot. I don't know nearly enough to go into that kind of depth, and plus I am intending for this story to be narrative but with only the knowledge that Beth has, so we won't see anyone's perspective except Beth's. Sorry. We will, however, be seeing a lot more flashbacks to the Greene farm and how things came to be the way they are, as well as Beth's relationship with Jimmy. As always, if you found inconsistencies or mistakes, please let me know! And thank you for reading!


	15. rosie, why do you evade?

**A/N:** There will begin to be graphic/explicit sexual content in this story beginning with this chapter. It won't overtake the plot, but I want you to be aware that it will be happening since the story has been pretty much sex-free until now.  
And trigger warning: there will also be mentions/references to and flashbacks/depictions of rape and domestic violence/abuse.

* * *

 _ **rosie, why do you evade?**_

Monday morning came and went quietly. Beth slept through most of it, waking only briefly to the sound of the front door opening and closing when Daryl and Malachi left for the day. After that, she didn't budge again until well past noon. When she got up and stretched and wandered out into the empty apartment, she found that the weather outside had cleared up and the sun was shining through the last of the remaining clouds. The birds where chirping loudly and there were people out and about once again on their morning commutes – though not as many as usual. The day felt sleepy for the whole city.

Beth's head was foggy and she still felt half-asleep as she found her way to the coffeemaker to brew a new pot, then to the bathroom to relieve herself. She was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes when she walked back to check her phone for notifications or news updates. To her delight, she found neither. Although part of her was hoping to hear something from Jesus. She wondered if she should message him and ask for a timeframe, or if it would just be bothersome to him.

The smell of coffee began to fill the apartment and she perked up, mouth nearly watering at the prospect. She put down her phone and put the problem out of her mind for the time being to wander back into the kitchen and await her first cup of coffee. It was still odd to her to have such a hectic sleeping schedule, but it was even more odd to have no real purpose filling her days. If it weren't for obsessively checking the news to see how famous she was getting, she probably wouldn't even know what day it was. She'd never had this kind of free time at home, at least not in a very long time.

As she sat at the dining table and sipped her first cup of coffee, eyes occasionally gazing out the window across from her, Beth found herself unable to think of anything but her meeting with Jesus. At first, it had felt like a weight lifted from her shoulders, but the longer it sat in her mind and stewed, the heavier it all became. She was realizing that this was a whole other issue entirely, and it may be the most difficult yet. If Jesus was right, she might have to start trying to leave the city. What were the chances that any of the people she'd met would ever recognize her? But then what were the chances that she could keep herself totally hidden for an undisclosed amount of time? Some of these things were out of her control, but she wasn't one to back down from all liability. She knew that she had at least a little control over who would be seeing her or talking to her in the coming days/weeks/months. The problem was keeping those people ignorant of the truth – that was something she really couldn't control on her own.

Her stomach gurgled but she had no real appetite. She swallowed more coffee in an effort to appease it, mind still racing with everything that Jesus had told her. He seemed convinced that the cops were hot on her trail and would never give up, but if that were the case, why had she gotten away so _easily_? She hated even thinking about that because it made her feel arrogant, but in all honesty, it _had_ been kind of easy. They weren't even making her case national, so why would she worry about people seeing her face in _this_ city? Then again, the case could go national any day… but if it was going to, wouldn't it have done so already? She was right back to the same question she'd been asking herself a dozen times a day.

Beth began to wonder if she'd ever truly be free, even if she got away. Jesus had told her that eventually, she'd make the Most Wanted list. But he didn't say how long they kept people on that particular list. She'd never really thought about looking into it either. How long would she have to disappear before they'd assume she was dead? An idea popped into her head and she pulled out her phone to look up the FBI's Most Wanted list and check to see how long most of the fugitives had been missing.

At first, she was hopeful because she started reading about a couple of fugitives who'd only been wanted since the early 2000s or late nineties. In her mind, fifteen or twenty years on the run was _nothing_ compared to fifteen or twenty years behind bars. But as she read further, she realized that those were only a couple of the most recent additions to the list. To her dismay, she found that they were still actively pursuing some people who'd been missing since the sixties, and they'd gone as far as to make age-progression photos with computers to depict a more accurate description – including a man who was in his late seventies by now, if he was even alive, and still wanted for a crime he'd committed as an eighteen-year-old. Beth took another sip of coffee but couldn't seem to taste it anymore.

She closed the webpage and set her phone down, staring out the window at the sky with a blank stare. She knew, deep down, that Jesus was one-hundred percent right, just like Maggie had been. But could she really be blamed for being so scared? The thought of escaping to another place she'd never even been was terrifying. Coming to New York City had scared her shitless, but crossing the ocean to step on completely foreign soil? That was absolutely _petrifying_. Beth started to wonder if she shouldn't begin looking into alternative methods, even though that would mean ignoring the fact that she knew Jesus was completely right in his plan and knowledge of the situation. The brief, breathtaking thought of faking her own death filled her head for a moment, and she mulled over all the options and loose ends.

 _That would mean acquiring a dead body – whether it was already dead or I had to kill it myself. Either way would be extremely difficult and way more risky than it's worth,_ she thought. _Not to mention the science of it all – making the dental records match, fingerprints… I'd have to find someone like Jesus who knew how to do it all for a price, and what are the odds of me finding someone like that when I have absolutely zero connections? Oh, God, and then, once the news got back to my family -_ _ **if**_ _they believed it - they'd be devastated. My sister would be so disappointed in me. It wouldn't matter that I was still alive, because she'd never be able to know. Daddy would think this had all been for nothing. I couldn't risk doing that to them… not while_ _ **they're**_ _locked up for_ _ **my**_ _crime._

Beth continued to mindlessly sip her coffee, still staring out the window while she had an internal battle. She would go over all these same scenarios at least a hundred times over before she could think of anything else. At the end of the day, she had to admit that Maggie had already known what was best for her. Of course, she had to remind herself that her big sister had originally planned for it to be _both_ of them, so maybe it was just the best plan for two sisters on the run…? Or was Glenn supposed to have gotten away with them, too?

The idea of getting plastic surgery to match a new identity drifted into her head. She mulled it over for a moment, but she could easily imagine what Maggie or Jesus would say about it: _You can disguise your appearance, but you can't disguise your DNA._ She brushed that idea aside almost as quickly as it had arrived.

She shook her head and finally tore her eyes away from the sky. Without noticing, she'd finished nearly her whole cup of coffee. She let out a sigh and got up to get a refill, hesitating in the kitchen and deciding to get in the bath and attempt to relax again. She brought the coffee with her, and about ten minutes later, she was setting her mug on the edge of the bathtub before submerging herself in warm, bubbly water.

The silence of the bathroom and the soothing water on her skin worked to calm her nerves and slow her thoughts. She kept going over different scenarios in her head – she'd reworked the possibility of faking her own death at least a hundred times – but the whole thing exhausted her and she sunk deeper into the bath. She pushed the worries out of her head, eyes scrunched shut as if she were physically forcing an intruder from her body, and tried to think of something else. For inexplicable reasons, her mind jumped from the memory of talking with Daryl the night before to the brief memory of overhearing him in the bathroom a couple of nights prior to that. Maybe she was connecting his mention of his occasional marijuana use to the smell that had reached her nostrils that night while she lay in bed. Either way, she wasn't sure why it was coming back now, but it began to linger and give her the strangest feeling without warning.

She had felt like she'd been violating his privacy that night, as if she were listening in on something she shouldn't have. For a while, she had told herself he'd been crying or groaning in satisfaction from the relaxation of the bath. But now, she could hear his low, echoing moans in her head and she immediately knew what they were _really_ from... Something that had been sleeping inside her was blinking awake and sending an almost forgotten sensation through her body.

Her hands had been resting beneath the water, one atop her thigh and the other on her hip. Without guilt, she imagined the things the older man may have been doing in this very bathtub, where his hands may have wandered and the cold needles that might've tingled up and down his spine… She bit down on her lip absent-mindedly as that old, familiar tightness formed just below her gut. Her insides squirmed and without thinking, her hand drifted over from her thigh to the soft, fuzzy skin between her legs.

Beth hadn't yet admitted to herself that she found Daryl attractive. She had acknowledged that he wasn't bad looking, nothing close to a sore sight; but she still wasn't convinced that he was attractive in any way, let alone sexually. He was so closed-off and hard to read, it was difficult to find a lot of admirable or "sexy" traits. She'd never really been the type to go for six-packs or chiseled jaws, rather charming smiles and lively eyes and laughs that gave her butterflies. But Daryl was none of those. Not to mention, he was exceptionally older than her. She'd never been the type to pine over a man older than twenty-five.

Yet all those thoughts were forgotten right now. Her body was speaking to her and she was listening closely, finally freeing her mind from the constant stress of reality for a short time. She was letting her thoughts drift to unspeakable places as her hand continued to wander down and trace her folds, her lips, the tightening mound that seemed to throb every time her finger got close. The rest of her body was weightless and forgotten as her hand worked beneath the water, starting in slow circles and gradually getting faster. She didn't know why – nor did she care right now – but the low moans she'd overheard from Daryl kept repeating in her head, echoing and inciting vivid, graphic images of scenes that had never before dared to cross her mind.

The water began to make tiny waves and splashes above Beth's hand as she continued touching herself, finger moving in rapid circles. Her lips were parted and she breathed heavily, eyes still shut while she focused on the images and sounds in her head. The growing tightness became tenser, hotter, her toes curled and the muscles in her legs clenched. Daryl was moaning in her head, and she could see him naked, wet, sitting in the bathtub with one arm resting on the edge while the other worked to stroke his hard, throbbing length that was half-submerged in the warm water. The water splashed around his hand similarly to the way it rippled above her own. She could feel the edge approaching, and she could see Daryl's face contorting to match the moans that were escaping his lips. Beth's finger continued in its circles, moving faster and faster as she grew hotter, tenser…

And then she had reached it. Her hand didn't stop, the other hand gripping her thigh instinctually. Her lips remained parted in a frozen, silent gasp. Any moans that wanted to escape were trapped in her throat. All her muscles tensed for a second as something burst inside her, a floodgate opening and letting all the stress and pent-up emotions seep out of every pore in her body. For a transcendent, fleeting moment, the most satisfying feeling in existence was rushing through her nervous system, and she relaxed as the release passed. The sights and sounds she'd been imagining – and hadn't been able to _stop_ imagining – immediately left, and she pushed any shameful remainders out with them. She pulled her hands back and rested them at her sides, sinking even further into the water until it reached her chin.

She felt like she'd stretched out a muscle deep inside her that was normally unreachable. The anxious ball of stress that had been resting in her gut had subsided for now, and she sighed in relaxation as she remembered how nice "alone time" like this had been at one point – or any sex for that matter. She hadn't had this kind of time to think about herself in a while, and recently, she hadn't had the desire either. (Jimmy had certainly ruined her for a time.) But she figured that being cooped up all day would eventually cause her to turn to more unconventional methods of relieving the boredom, and she'd just given in to her more primal needs a little earlier than expected. A large part of her was thankful to find that her deceased ex-boyfriend hadn't _completely_ demolished her enjoyment of sexual pleasure.

Beth remained in the bath for several minutes, her mind and body finally calm as she rested her eyes. She thought about pointless things for a while, like the show she'd watched with Daryl the night before and which book she'd like to read next from his collection. She had several moments where she felt ashamed for the things she'd been imagining while she was focused on self-gratification, but they passed and she assured herself that she wasn't the only person in the world who'd done such things while fantasizing about someone they'd never actually been with – or _would_ be with. She told herself it was just an odd whim. The water began cooling down and she thought about getting up and drying off, but instead, she reached over and took another grateful sip of coffee from the mug sitting next to her. The energy to get out just wasn't quite reaching her yet.

She was still zoned out when a sound from the living room jolted her and her eyes popped open. It was the distinct sound of the front door opening and closing, and footsteps entering the apartment. She was confused, listening closely and wondering for a second if Carol had come over or someone had possibly broken in. But when she recognized the voices – one low and grumbly, clearly belonging to Daryl, and the other high-pitched and belonging to a child – she realized that the boys must have come home early.

 _Goddammit_ , she thought, remembering her brown contacts still resting in the dish on her nightstand and the door to her bedroom still sitting open. She'd thought she would have several more hours alone in the apartment.

Beth hopped out of the bath and hit the drain, drying off in a hurry and throwing on her clothes. She was glad she'd thought to bring a shirt and pants into the bathroom with her even though she'd been walking around in her panties before. The ends of her hair had gotten wet from the bath water and she dabbed them dry, then returned the towel and threw on some deodorant before gathering her dirty clothes and the half-empty coffee mug and leaving the bathroom.

When she stepped out into the hall, she saw Daryl's back near the front door, crouching down and shuffling through Malachi's backpack. He was dressed normally for work but not nearly as dirty as usual. Beth sighed in relief and kept her head down as she fast-walked to her bedroom, hoping to slip in unnoticed and without making eye contact. She managed to avoid Daryl, but when she thought she'd made it safely into her room, she realized that a very curious toddler had wandered in through the open door while his father's back was turned. She stopped in her tracks, staring at the scene before her.

Malachi was down on his knees beside Beth's bed, her bag brought out from underneath and his tiny hands pulling out handful after handful of crisp, one-hundred-dollar bills from the safety of the bag onto the carpet. His eyes were wide with intrigue and his tongue was sticking halfway out of his mouth as he focused on emptying everything from inside the mysterious bag he'd found and opened. Beth's heart skipped and she caught herself just before yelling at the toddler.

"YOU – uh, hey, let's-let's put that back," she said, biting back the anger that was boiling up. She knew he was just a kid and it was natural for him to be curious and want to explore his own home, but now she was watching money appear all over the carpet and Daryl could walk in at any moment. She'd never had to live with a toddler and didn't think about child-proofing anything, but now she was kicking herself for it.

Malachi looked up to see her, eyes growing even larger as he realized he'd been caught red-handed. He dropped the bag and the money that had been in his hands and stared back at Beth. She couldn't tell if he was too scared to talk or if he just didn't know what exactly he'd found. She rushed over and emptied her armful of things down onto the dresser, then moved toward the bag, trying to grab as much money as possible with one hand while stuffing it inside with the other. She didn't dare glance over her shoulder to check for Daryl.

"I'm sowwy," Malachi said, a little more loudly than Beth would have preferred. "I-I thought, um, I t'ought there'd be Mo-mop-on-ly in there."

Beth sighed, aggravated when she couldn't easily grasp the cash with her shaking hands. "Yeah, well, there isn't. I don't have any _games_ in here."

The toddler was silent for a second before asking, loud enough to be heard from the living room, "Is dat money _real_?"

Beth looked up to see Daryl heading toward the open door, following Malachi's voice as soon as he'd turned around and realized his son wasn't next to him anymore. "Mal, where you – "

He stopped abruptly in the doorway, looking first to Malachi and then to Beth, who was still trying to pick up all the money off the floor. She glanced up and met his eyes for a brief second before looking over at the blond toddler again, who was staring guiltily at his feet.

"You touchin' things that don't belong to you?" Daryl said, voice low and stern as he looked directly at his son.

Beth was still scrambling to gather all the stray bills, but she glanced up to check Daryl's face and thought that she might've narrowly missed some serious suspicion; maybe he hadn't seen just _how much_ cash had been on the floor. Either way, she started assuring herself that she could explain this away if she needed to. And maybe he'd be more distracted by the misbehavior of his child.

Malachi was about to speak, probably to apologize again to his dad in an attempt to avoid punishment, but Beth spoke up first.

"It's okay, he apologized," she said, still gathering money and stuffing it back into the bag without looking up to see Daryl's expression. "He just thought there was a game under here. It-it's my fault, I should've shut the door."

"Still, he knows better than to nose through other people's stuff. It's rude an' downright invasive," Daryl said, voice still stern and father-like. He pointed his words to Malachi now, "This ain't yer room. We don't go in here without permission. Got it?"

The toddler nodded, eyes brimming with tears. Beth felt guilty but chose not to impede on the older man's parenting method.

"Next time you touch somethin' that ain't yers, it'll be time out," Daryl continued. "D'you understand?"

Malachi nodded again and Daryl snapped his fingers, gesturing for his son to leave the bedroom. The tiny blond rushed past his father and down the hall, heading toward the bedroom without having to be told. Beth felt another stab of guilt. She stuffed the last of the loose bills into the bag and zipped it back up, shoving it into its original spot under the bed before standing.

"Sorry 'bout that," he said, still hesitating in the doorway. His fatherly sternness was gone now and he was eying her curiously, brow slightly furrowed.

"No, it's my fault. I left the door open. Didn't realize you'd be home so early," Beth explained, still trying to keep her voice steady while her eyes bounced between Daryl's gaze and the hall behind him. Her hands fidgeted in front of her.

"It's Labor Day," he explained, still watching curiously. "Only worked a few hours… That's a… lotta money t'be keepin' under a bed. Maybe y'should get a bank account."

Beth shrugged, heat rising to her face despite her efforts to keep it at bay. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten about Labor Day. "Yeah, uh… I'll look into that," she muttered. She recognized the way his eyes were scrutinizing her and knew he wouldn't let the subject be changed so easily, so she offered a reminder of her explanation, "It's… inheritance – "

" – inheritance. Right," Daryl interrupted her mid-sentence, saying "inheritance" at the same time. But his voice was off, and she could hear the underlying suspicion. "Lotta inheritance," he continued, his voice no more than a grumble but very clear to Beth.

She nodded, and she knew her cheeks were probably flaming red right now, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. She swallowed a knot in her throat and refused to break eye contact. But Daryl's blue eyes had glanced to the nightstand behind her for just a second.

"…Okay," he said.

Beth raised her eyebrows, waiting. He seemed to be preparing to say something that he'd wanted to say for a while. She gave him a look that said she was ready for whatever question he had to throw at her.

"What's yer secret?"

She blinked. A small smile formed on her lips, but it felt wrong, so she forced it away. "Sorry… what?"

Daryl's hand moved up to his chin, stroking the hair of his goatee as though he were studying her. He didn't look away. He repeated himself, "What's yer secret?"

Beth gave him a quizzical look. "What d'you mean?"

He smirked, but not in amusement, still stroking his chin. "Ya just moved to the city… got a backpack full o' money, not a single possession t'your name… ya been wearin' fake contacts, and I'm pretty sure that's a wig. _Why_?"

Beth's stomach dropped down to her feet. She cursed herself silently for not thinking to put in the contacts when she had the chance. But what did it matter now? He was already suspicious of the money. Her hair, on the other hand…

"A _wig_?! This is my real hair!" She responded defensively. She grabbed a chunk of the dark hair and tugged on it to demonstrate her point.

Daryl furrowed his brow, "Oh. Well… sorry. It's just not a good haircut on you – but that's another thing. Looks like y'did it with yer kitchen scissors. So what's the deal?"

Beth swallowed hard and tried to push past the intense fear that was pulsing through her right now. He'd seen through everything, and she'd become careless enough that he'd figured it out. She'd expected the most unobservant man in the city, which he had turned out not to be, but even if he were, he still would've pieced it together. She was realizing that he hadn't said anything but had obviously been thinking about it for some time now.

"…Who you hidin' from?"

A part of her wanted to break down. She wanted to tell him the truth, the entire truth, and leave nothing out. She craved the intimacy of having someone to be her real self with, even if that self was a cop killer. She couldn't talk to her sister, to her father, Jesus didn't want to know any more than he had to, and every person she met was being told a lie. She couldn't even write her feelings down on paper. It was odd: she'd been raised to never trust anyone outside the family, and the lines between lies and truths had been blurred for most of her adolescence, but she'd never lacked a confidante, or a shoulder to cry on. And now, when she needed one more than ever, she was all on her own, and she had to maintain the webs of lies she'd been weaving. Something inside her told her that she could trust Daryl - that he would be one of the only people who'd really understand if she laid it all out for him. That same part ached for honest human intimacy and would go to just about any lengths to find it. And so she'd learned long ago not to trust her gut. She had to remember to bide her time.

She gave a deep sigh – a little more theatrically than she normally would – and looked down, away from his eyes. She could feel his stare growing deeper once she wasn't returning it.

"Okay, I… Look, I wasn't honest with you," she began, glancing up to check his face and finding his expression unimpressed, but intrigued nonetheless.

He grunted, "Mm-hmm…"

She sighed again, more quietly, then let the web weave itself from her mouth, "I… ran away. I left my… abusive boyfriend. He was a cop and – well, he's got friends all over the state and-and people who had his back no matter what and… I just couldn't take it anymore. I knew the only way I'd be safe was to get as far away as possible, and I ended up here. He kept all my stuff – my ID, all my bank accounts, everything I've ever owned. But I got out with the cash from my inheritance. That – _that_ is the truth. It really is inheritance. I promise. It's just… not the most conventional way of handling it. I don't actually know how far he would go to find me, or who he might have watching me, so… I'm just trying t'be safe."

Daryl's face softened and he continued stroking his chin slowly. He had stopped eying Beth suspiciously but kept the thoughtful and curious expression on his face. He grunted out, "Really?"

She nodded, waiting with bated breath to see if he actually believed her.

The explanation seemed to satisfy him because he nodded, chewing on his lower lip as if he wasn't sure how to react. A few moments passed in stifling silence, and Beth could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She wanted to add more information, widen the lie and the sympathy card, but decided against it for fear of sounding like she was trying to overcompensate. When she saw Daryl move to stroke his chin again, still not talking, she decided to speak again.

"I'm… sorry I didn't tell you the truth. I was – scared," she lied, lacing her words with heavy emotion.

He shook his head and met her eyes, "Don't be. Sorry fer bein' nosey."

She retorted, "Don't be."

A smirk flashed over his lips and he turned to leave the room, but stopped to turn back around and add, "Ain't gotta be so scared, ya know. Yer safe with us. That class'll do ya some good, too."

Beth quietly nodded and watched him leave the room to head down the hall and to his own bedroom to join Malachi. She let out a breath of relief and blinked a few times, nearly in disbelief, then moved to shut the door. She could still hear the boys in the bedroom down the hall, talking. She couldn't help but feel bad for being the reason that Malachi got in trouble. But at the same time, she kind of got herself in trouble, too.

She moved about restlessly, unsure of what to do with herself. All the calmness she'd achieved had vanished now and she couldn't think straight. Yes, she'd pulled the lie off this time, but how much longer could it go on? How many more lies would she have to come up with and how many could she keep straight? How long could she play the part of abuse survivor before Daryl or someone else saw right through her theatrics?

 _But then again,_ she reminded herself, _it's not a_ _ **complete**_ _lie._

* * *

 _Beth approached the closed door of her father's study, at the end of the upstairs hallway, hesitating before she turned the knob and entered. Her daddy and Maggie were sitting inside, waiting for her. They usually didn't call her to the study to talk except for serious matters, and that had only been the case three times: a couple years ago, when her daddy had to explain to all of his kids why and how things were going to change around the farm because of his new business partner, then again after her momma and Shawn were killed and they had to talk about how things would change from then on, and finally, about two months after that to discuss how they would have to be more careful with Dawn Lerner and her team of detectives watching them closely. The talks they had were never good, and they always meant painful changes for Beth. She had a feeling she knew what this meeting would be about, but she was nervous because she couldn't predict exactly what would be said. She braced herself for the worst and stepped into the study, closing the door quietly behind her._

 _Hershel was sitting behind the large desk that occupied most of the small study, and Maggie was sitting on the edge of the desk closest to Beth, her legs dangling off the edge as her feet didn't reach the carpet from atop the desk. Two small, black armchairs sat before the desk and Hershel gestured to them casually._

" _Sit down, Bethy," he said in his soothing, fatherly voice. But she knew he was just trying to butter her up before dropping whatever bomb he had._

 _Maggie nodded when Beth glanced at her and the young blonde sat down in one of the chairs, the leather sticking to the bare skin of her thighs that wasn't covered by her jean shorts. Beth had expected to get a helpful look of some sort from Maggie, but her older sister seemed to be tight-lipped and hesitant. They both looked to their father._

" _We need t'talk to ya, and now – just hear us out, okay? It's important," Hershel started, hands folded on the desk surface before him as his bright, blue eyes remained focused on Beth's. "This affects the whole family, farm, and church."_

 _Maggie nodded weakly from where she sat._

 _Beth swallowed. "Is this about Jimmy?"_

 _Hershel sighed and nodded and Maggie pursed her lips and nodded again, but more fervently. Before her daddy could begin lecturing her for the thousandth time, Beth became defensive._

" _Okay, I know he's been gettin' out of control. I've talked to him and we've been workin' on it and – it's fine, he'll act better, Daddy. He's just been – goin' through a rough time. But he ain't stupid. He wouldn't do anything to put us at risk. I wouldn't let him. You know that."_

 _Hershel's eyes grew sympathetic, as if he were being forced to tell a child that Santa Claus isn't real. "I know you're tryin', sweetie. But it's not workin'," his voice remained soft, but grew more stern as he went on. "He's a damn_ _ **addict**_ _now. He's a fool and a liability, and we can't risk him bein' around all this anymore. He needs to move on, and so do you."_

 _A pit opened up at the bottom of Beth's stomach. Her voice was weak, "What… like, he's not allowed to come around anymore?"_

" _Like, you need to_ _ **break up**_ _with him, Beth," Maggie chimed in, her voice coming out impatient and irritated. "He's doin' meth. We all know it. You're better than that."_

" _You've seen how addicts can behave," Hershel interrupted, Beth's eyes shooting from her sister back to her father. "He's hurting himself and before too long, he'll be hurtin' you, too. And if that happens, you won't have a choice in breaking up with him… because I'll kill him."_

 _Beth swallowed past the knot in her throat and found her mouth had suddenly gone dry. Her daddy wasn't just asking her to keep her boyfriend from coming around her home… he was asking her to cut him off completely. How was she supposed to move on from the guy she'd been in love with for the last year? They were high school sweethearts, first loves, the stuff that everyone in small towns talked about when they described their perfect relationships. And he wanted her to just give up on him for the family business?_

" _He's hurtin', Daddy… I have to help him," Beth said, her voice cracking as she gave her father the widest, saddest eyes she could muster. She didn't have to force it, though, because she was quickly growing devastated._

" _You can't_ _ **help**_ _him, Beth," Maggie snapped. "He's only gonna drag you down with him, and guess who gets dragged down if you do? All of us! He's an idiot and an asshole an' you can do better."_

" _But I – "_

 _Hershel stopped her, "You don't have a choice. You_ _ **have**_ _to do better. Because he's not allowed on my property any more. He lost me money, and I forgave it… because he's yer boyfriend. He used my product for personal gain, and I forgave it… because he's yer boyfriend. He disrespected me, disrespected Maggie, disrespected_ _ **you**_ _… I didn't forgive it, but I certainly let him off a hell of a lot easier than anyone else has ever gotten off around here. And now I'm tellin' you to cut things off and send him on his way. If he wants help, he'll find it. If not, he can destroy his life on his own time and leave our family out of it."_

 _Beth was fighting back tears. "This isn't fair. You've known him fer_ _ **years**_ _, Daddy. I love him, I can't just – stop talkin' to him. You want me t'just_ _ **abandon**_ _him?!"_

 _Maggie spoke first, and her voice was surprisingly soft as she attempted to approach Beth from a sympathetic angle. "We know you love him… but he's_ _ **dangerous**_ _, Bethy. You think he's really worth riskin' all our lives?"_

 _Beth blinked and stared at her sister unwaveringly, "I dunno, you think_ _ **Glenn**_ _is worth risking all our lives?"_

 _Maggie rolled her eyes, "Glenn has never used meth in his life, and he wouldn't do anything to risk this family if his life_ _ **depended**_ _on it. I can promise you that. Can_ _ **you**_ _say that same thing about_ _ **Jimmy**_ _?!"_

 _Beth tried to seem confident, but her hesitance was clear when she didn't reply within the first few seconds. Maggie glanced to Hershel, who continued watching Beth. She looked back to her father, fingernails digging into the leather of the armchair next to her thigh._

" _You can't_ _ **do**_ _this," Beth choked out, eyes brimming with tears. "I love him. He'll – get better. You can't force me to stop lovin' someone."_

 _Hershel shook his head, finally looking away to stare down at his hands. "I'm not tellin' you to stop loving him – that's impossible, you'll have to do that on your own time. But you_ _ **have**_ _to stop seeing him and speaking to him. Plain and simple."_

 _Beth was screaming in her head, wishing she had the guts to rebel against her father without the fear of his anger and disappointment. 'This is fucking_ _ **bullshit**_ _,' she thought angrily, a tear sliding down her cheek. 'This isn't fucking fair, they can't DO this! I've done everything I'm supposed to – every_ _ **single**_ _thing – and now they wanna take away the one thing - the one PERSON – that I actually got to_ _ **choose**_ _?! I've followed all the stupid rules, told all the bullshit lies, yet somehow it's still_ _ **me**_ _who has to sacrifice something. Maggie can have Glenn, and we all trust him,_ _ **great**_ _, he's only been here for two years, and how long have we known Jimmy? A_ _ **decade**_ _? But someone can't be weak. No, that's not the_ _ **Greene**_ _way. You're either useful or not, and if you're not – bye! So fuck me, fuck my feelings, fuck my choices, I'll_ _ **never**_ _be free of this nightmare. I get to be alone and miserable because Daddy and Maggie think it's best. I'm almost eighteen but I can't make my own_ _ **fucking**_ _decisions…?!'_

" _Beth, we can talk about this alone, if you want. But it's not a choice anymore," Maggie interrupted her thoughts and the stiff silence in the room, leaning down to look Beth directly in the eyes. "He's an asshole. You'll move on, you'll meet someone else. Once this all blows over, we can go back to normal, you can go to college, meet boys, make friends – "_

" _I don't_ _ **want**_ _to meet boys. I want to be with Jimmy," Beth interjected. "We were gonna go to college together. Get married after – "_

" _Bethy, that boy ain't goin' anywhere until he goes to a rehab facility," Hershel spoke up matter-of-factly. "He needs a kind of help that you and I can't give him. And he won't be ready for somethin' like college anytime soon. He'll only hold you down."_

" _Daddy's right," Maggie immediately agreed. "If he was gonna go t'college, he would've gone after he graduated. He just wants to get high and party and mooch off of people. He's not gettin' better anytime soon."_

" _Oh, really?" Beth snapped, tears still brimming in her eyes as she turned her head to Maggie, her words full of spite. "Then why didn't_ _ **you**_ _go to college? You're_ _ **not**_ _Momma now – you don't get t'make the decisions for everybody. You'll_ _ **never**_ _be Momma."_

 _She regretted it as soon as she said it, seeing the hurt evident on her sister's face. Before Maggie could defend herself, Hershel interjected himself and scolded Beth momentarily, "Hey! We don't say those hurtful things to each other. She's your_ _ **sister**_ _– you cannot talk to her like that. No, she'll never be your mother, but she's an adult, and she's_ _ **your**_ _big sister. Her word has just as much weight as mine… We aren't doing this to hurt you, Beth. We would never do something to intentionally hurt you."_

 _Beth shook her head, another angry tear rolling down her cheek. "Then why are you doin' this when you_ _ **know**_ _it's hurting me? You're being so judgmental. He_ _ **waited**_ _for me. We were gonna do it all together – "_

" _Cut off all ties with him," Hershel interrupted. He was clearly at his rope's end. He put up a hand to silence any other arguments Beth might've had, "End of discussion. This isn't a choice. This concerns_ _ **all**_ _our lives. End it, Beth."_

 _Beth pursed her lips. But she nodded. She knew better than to incite her daddy's anger, or dig herself a deeper hole. Tears filled her eyes and threatened to escape, but she held them back. The knot in her throat was the size of a golf ball._

" _I'm sorry. I wish it could be different, but it's just… too dangerous right now," Maggie muttered, looking down at her younger sister with sympathetic eyes, though Beth could see the slightest glimmer of satisfaction as well. She knew that sometimes, her sister loved nothing more than being right._

 _Without another word, Beth stood from the armchair, shoving it a few inches back in anger. She turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her and leaving her daddy and big sister sitting in silence. She knew they were looking out for her, and for the entire family, and she knew just how dangerous it was right now – yes, she_ _ **REALLY**_ _knew, she GOT IT. But they still treated her like a child, and while Maggie could make at least_ _ **some**_ _of her own choices, Beth was being forced to live a life built completely on lies and what her father thought was best._

 _When it came down to it, she found that lying to her family was much easier than she'd expected. They'd taught her well, after all._

* * *

Beth remained in her bedroom, with the door tightly closed, and silently panicked. She knew she'd successfully lied and misled Daryl for now, but she didn't like how shaky the ground was becoming. She debated on messaging Jesus, even going as far as checking her text messages and email inbox for an address that she could direct the message to, but changed her mind and ritualistically checked the news sites instead. It calmed her just the slightest to find no new updates on her family or Jimmy – although there probably wouldn't be many more of _anything_ on Jimmy except for his connection to the Greene case.

She spent the better part of an hour sorting through her money and wrapping it back into neat wads secured with rubber bands. She looked around the room and decided to place the bag inside one of the empty dresser drawers, hoping it would be a better hiding place than under the bed. When that was done, she checked the news sites again and tried to distract herself with reading random articles. In all honesty, she was trying to keep herself from reaching out to Jesus. But before long, she was interrupted by a light knock on the bedroom door.

Her heart started racing again and she answered the door with hesitation, finding Daryl standing before her looking just the same as earlier. Beth nodded in acknowledgement, waiting for him to speak.

"I still got a couple loads of laundry to do over at Carol's, did y'need to do a load or two?" He asked.

She was searching his face and his posture for some sign of awkward tension or distrust, but he appeared to be acting no differently than he had before he'd confronted her about lying. She was still uneasy, but she also needed clean clothes to wear. So she nodded but tried to avoid prolonged eye contact.

"Well, we're headin' over in a couple minutes if ya wanna get yer laundry together and come with," Daryl explained.

"Okay. Thanks," Beth said softly, and he nodded before turning and heading back down the hall to his bedroom.

She closed the door again and turned back to her room. She gathered up every piece of clothing she could find – she'd worn nearly the whole pack of new underwear that Irma had given to her by now – and debated on washing the weapon concealing undershirt. She decided against it, not wanting to risk Daryl or Carol seeing the shirt and asking about it. Not that they'd go through her laundry, but since the shirt required a delicate wash setting and had to be hung up to dry, she knew that one of them would see it at some point and wonder what it was for. She was able to explain away the money and the color-changing eye contacts, but she wasn't so sure she could come up with a believable lie for the Beretta and the shirt she'd bought specifically to hold it.

Using a large, plastic garbage bag she'd gotten from the cabinet in the kitchen, Beth gathered up all her dirty clothes and carried them to the front door. She looked down the hall to check for Daryl and Malachi, their voices drifting all through the small apartment. Malachi was speaking rapidly and with great excitement as usual, and Daryl was giving grunts and short answers or questions in return.

When she realized it'd be a few minutes, Beth pulled out her phone and inhaled sharply through her nose, making a decision to try to contact Jesus, if for nothing else than to ease her own mind. She found her way back to the area of Craigslist where she'd made the very first post and quickly navigated to create a new post. She could still hear the boys' voices down the hall as they shuffled about the bedroom.

She posted the subject as " _seeking Jesus_ " and left a vague post that said nothing more than, " _how long?_ " Once she saw that it was up amongst the other various posts, she locked her phone again and stuffed it back into the pocket of her lounging pants. She continued to stand by the door, waiting, with her bag of laundry in hand, but only for a few moments before Daryl and Malachi began making their way down the hall. A tall laundry hamper was weighing down Daryl's arms.

"Can y'open the door?" Daryl asked her as he approached, and she quickly unlocked and opened the front door, holding it wide open for him to get through with the hamper. Malachi followed him closely from behind, and once they were both out into the hall, Beth followed and closed the door behind her.

"Mal, go knock on Carol's door," Daryl instructed the toddler, who rushed forward on his little legs to the door of 3B. He made tiny fists and knocked on the door three times with both of them. Within seconds, the door opened to reveal Carol, who stepped aside to let the trio inside.

"Hi, Carol!" Malachi called as he headed straight for a small toy box sitting in the corner.

"Hey, guys," she greeted, shutting the door behind them.

Beth gave Carol a polite smile and followed Daryl through the small apartment. Inside apartment 3B, it was a mirror image to Daryl's place in 3A. There was a bit more furniture and clutter, and a lot more floral patterns, but most everything else, including the walls and carpets, were the same. Instead of a dining table, there was an old piano sitting in one corner of the room. The layout was reversed, and Carol's kitchen and the hall that led to the bedrooms and bathroom were to the right of the living room. Daryl led Beth through the living room and past the kitchen, which had a bar identical to Daryl's except that this one had bar stools seated at one side, and down the hall to the open door of the bathroom. The inside was only slightly larger than the bathroom in 3A, with the extra space mostly occupied by a large, white washer and matching dryer. There was a shelf on the wall above the washer and dryer that held a few different boxes and bottles of laundry detergent, fabric softener, bleach, and dryer sheets. Beth noticed that even the shower curtain and bathmat were decorated with floral patterns.

Daryl set the heavy laundry hamper down onto the tile floor, grunting in relief when his arms were free of the weight. He gestured for Beth to help herself and she set her bag down next to the hamper.

"Mind if I throw in my work clothes real quick? I didn't get a chance to do our laundry yesterday like I usually do," he asked, pointing to the washer.

Beth shrugged. "Sure, no problem. Just let me know when I can throw mine in."

He nodded and she turned to leave the bathroom, gazing around the hall and spotting a closed door at the end – probably leading to Carol's bedroom – and another closed door beside the bathroom, which had bright pink letters plastered on the front that read _SOPHIA_. Beth saw that there was light coming from beneath the door and figured Sophia must be inside her room. She turned and headed back to the living room, spotting Malachi playing at the toy box from afar before walking a bit further and finding Carol in the kitchen.

"Want some water? Tea?" Carol offered, looking to Beth from where she stood at the kitchen counter, giving her a pleasant smile.

"Um, sure. Tea would be nice," Beth agreed, attempting to return the smile as genuinely as she could. But the phone in her pocket was heavy and she was trying to restrain herself from checking it every two seconds while she waited for a response from Jesus.

Carol's apartment smelled like freshly baked cookies with a hint of carnations. Her kitchen was packed with what looked like every cooking and baking utensil in existence, with the appliances that couldn't be stuffed into cabinets taking up corners and counter space. It made Daryl's kitchen look bare and neglected. The couch in the living room was smaller and more worn, a patchwork quilt draped over the back. The TV was smaller but centered nearly the same as Daryl's, and the walls and various shelves were decorated with framed photos of Sophia through the ages, Carol with family members and friends, and the typical décor that most middle-aged mothers put up, like curly letters that stood on the ends of bookcases to spell out _Live Laugh Love_. The apartment was a mirror image of Daryl's, yet it seemed cozier and more lived in.

While Carol retrieved a jug of tea from the fridge and poured a glass, Beth glanced across the array of photos on the walls and shelves, searching for any signs of an older male who could've been Sophia's father. She just couldn't help but to be a little curious.

"I heard you went to class the other day," Carol commented. "Did you like it?"

Beth tore her eyes away from the walls and looked to Carol, who was holding out the glass of tea for Beth to take. She took it carefully and smiled, "Thank you. Uh – yeah, I did. It was really – informative."

Carol nodded, returning the jug of tea to the fridge before turning to give her full attention to Beth once more. "I'm glad to hear that. Daryl's a wonderful teacher – he just doesn't know it yet."

The older woman gave a smirk like the two of them were in on a private joke and Beth chuckled, trying to hide her uneasiness. "Yeah, he's actually… he seemed really comfortable. I mean, I haven't known him long, but he doesn't really seem like the type to like big crowds. But everybody loved him."

Carol continued smiling, but now she was watching Beth with slight amusement, as if she found it entertaining that the young girl was even attempting to understand Daryl. Or maybe Beth was just looking too much into it. She was starting to realize that Carol was nearly as unreadable as her neighbor.

"He just has to be in his own element. He likes to help people," the older woman explained as Beth took a sip of her tea, finding it to be perfectly-mixed sweet tea just like she used to drink back home. "Just doesn't like it to show because then people will take advantage of it. He's smart. But he's also stubborn."

Beth furrowed her brow for a second as she stared into Carol's bright blue eyes, then smiled as if it were just small talk and chuckled, "Yeah, seems like it. But he's, um, very nice."

Carol gave a tight-lipped smile and nod. Beth heard footsteps approaching from towards the hall and turned to see Daryl leaving the bathroom and approaching the women.

"You guys got that meetin' tonight?" He asked, looking at Carol. He seemed oblivious to the fact that they'd been talking about him seconds before.

She nodded. "Yeah, we're gonna leave in about fifteen minutes. Probably won't be back till you're all done, so you can just lock up on your way out."

Daryl gave a nod of acknowledgement before heading to the fridge and helping himself to his own glass of sweet tea. Carol didn't seem to mind and Beth assumed they must've been doing a routine like this for a while now, considering how comfortable they were with each other. She watched him for a second, then turned back to Beth and reached out a hand. Before Beth could wince away, Carol's hand was lightly touching the ends of Beth's short, dark hair, running her fingertips through the strands.

"I can fix this for you, if you'd like," the older woman offered, pulling her hand back while Beth remained frozen, still uncomfortable from the sudden invasion of her personal bubble.

But she brushed it off and nodded, trying to remain polite. "Oh, you can cut hair?"

Carol nodded, smiling. "Yeah. Just let me know, I'll bring you over and we'll do it right here. I have an old set from cosmetology school. I usually cut Sophia's hair for her."

After taking a hearty sip of tea and leaning his hip against the edge of the counter next to Carol, Daryl inserted himself into the conversation and asked Carol pointedly, his voice lowered just slightly, "How's she doin'?"

Carol glanced at Beth once more, who was grateful for the subject change, before turning and facing Daryl to tell him, in an equally lowered voice, "Improving. This weekend was a little rough but it got a lot better yesterday and today… We'll see, though. I told her to do some journaling before we go tonight, so maybe that'll get us somewhere."

Daryl nodded, listening intently. "Think she'll be able to make it t'school tomorrow?"

Carol shrugged. For a second, Beth wondered if she should remain standing where she was and listening to a conversation that clearly had nothing to do with her, but she figured it didn't matter if they had chosen to openly talk while she was feet away. "We're taking it day-by-day. You won't have t'worry about finding somewhere for Mal, though, he can come over either way. Sometimes, I think he cheers her up a little. She always wanted a sibling."

Daryl smiled and his dark blue eyes sparkled just a bit. "You know I ain't worried 'bout that. As long as Sophia's okay."

Carol patted his shoulder affectionately and turned back to Beth. "So how are you likin' it in the city? You met some of the girls from class?"

Beth assumed that Daryl had already told Carol most everything that happened, but she obliged and answered, "Yeah, um – Rosita and Tara and Clem and, uh – oh, Enid. We had lunch together after class. They're really nice."

She felt awkward and scrutinized with Carol and Daryl both watching her while she talked, but forced her most polite and appreciative voice, hoping this older woman wasn't secretly judging her or studying her for signs of betrayal. Yes, she seemed nice enough, and obviously she was a good friend and neighbor if Daryl and Malachi loved her so much. But Beth was still unsure of her intentions, and there was something about her that set off the internal alarms inside – not that she was dangerous, but that there was something _fake_ about her. She didn't think this woman was a serial killer in hiding or anything like that, but there was an indescribable vibration that Beth was picking up that told her there was something much more beneath the surface of floral patterns and warm smiles.

"They are some of the sweetest girls you'll ever meet," Carol affirmed, nodding knowingly. "Rosita and Tara have been attending since we started. I wouldn't say they really _need_ the class, but – "

"Yeah, they're pretty self-sufficient as it is. But it never hurts," Daryl agreed.

Carol nodded and followed up with another question, "So d'you think you'll go next week? Sophia and I should be able to make it this time - we rarely ever miss class, it was just a bad week."

Beth shrugged lightly, trying not to sound rude, and answered, "Uh – yeah, maybe. That would be cool."

Daryl was about to speak up and say something when the sound of a door opening in the hall pulled all their attentions in that direction. Sophia appeared from behind her bedroom door, walking out into the hall and closing it behind her. She was dressed in jeans and Converse sneakers, a black hoodie zipped up over her shirt. She still looked young to Beth, but now that she was seeing her up close, she realized that the preteen was taller and lankier than she'd first thought, and her hair was a reddish-brown, one side of long bangs swept over her left eye. She glanced up at Beth for only a second before looking away and heading straight to her mother's side.

"Mom, I'm ready," she said in a quiet voice, obviously trying to avoid any conversations with the two visitors in her home.

Carol nodded and put her arm around Sophia's small shoulders. "Okay, sweetie. Lemme grab my purse and we can go."

She gave a brief smile to Daryl and Beth before heading to her bedroom down the hall, returning seconds later with a purse on her shoulder. Sophia had wandered over to Malachi, leaning down to talk to him and tell him hello and goodbye for the night, getting a quick tiny-armed hug before standing back up and following her mother to the front door.

"Okay, lock up when you're done. See you tomorrow," Carol called as she headed out the door with her daughter in tow, waving to Beth and Daryl on her way out.

Daryl waved back and watched her leave, then turned to Beth. She sipped her tea, hoping he didn't plan on continuing their conversation. "Washer should be done in about fifteen or twenty. We can watch some TV or somethin' till then."

She shrugged and he took it as an agreement, leading her to the sunken cushions of the couch where they sat down. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV as if he'd been in the home and made himself comfortable a million times before, flipping through the channel guide to see what was playing. Malachi continued to occupy himself in his own little world in the corner, dragging nearly every toy out of the toy box and creating an elaborate scene on the carpet in front of it.

They sat in silence, watching TV idly. Beth pulled out her phone and checked for replies from Jesus, finding only sex solicitations. She deleted the emails and moved to checking the news sites, finding nothing new. When she finished that, she stuffed the phone back into her pocket and returned to staring blankly at the TV screen.

After about twenty minutes, Daryl got up and went to the bathroom to check the laundry. He returned a few moments later but didn't take his seat on the couch.

"Alright, washer's ready for ya," he informed Beth. "I'm gonna take Mal across the hall and get him some dinner so he can have a bath and get to bed. Think y'can stay here and let me know when the dryer's done?"

Beth blinked, surprised. "Um, sure, but – "

"Carol won't be back for a couple hours, don't worry. Laundry'll be done way before they get back," he explained, accurately predicting what she was about to ask.

She nodded and shrugged. "Oh, okay. Yeah, sure."

He walked over to Malachi and instructed him to begin cleaning up his toys, helping the toddler gather everything and return it to the toy box. He explained that it was time for dinner and a bath and Malachi whined a little, but Daryl quickly halted it with a stern look. The small, blond boy finished cleaning up his toys and waved goodbye to Beth before following his dad to the door.

"Want me to save ya some dinner?" Daryl called as he held the door open for Malachi to walk through.

"That'd be great. Thank you," Beth said, craning her neck over the back of the couch to give a grateful smile to Daryl.

He gave a quick thumbs-up motion before turning and following his son out the door, shutting it behind him. Beth found herself alone in the apartment of a stranger, sitting on the couch and watching a show on TV that she hadn't really been paying attention to. The darker part of herself immediately thought about how she could take this opportunity to nose around just like she'd done in Daryl's apartment a few days before, but the more logical part of herself silenced it quickly. Carol's life was none of her business, no matter how badly she preferred to be distracted by other people's life problems rather than her own. She didn't have the excuse of living with this woman as a reason to justify snooping through her books or looking for photo albums.

The hum of the dryer could be heard from the bathroom, and one of the windows in the living room was open a crack to let in some of the sounds and smells of the neighborhood outside. Beth stared blankly at the screen of the television for some time, watching whatever program was on but not really absorbing anything. A half-hour passed in silence, but she was lost in her own thoughts. At one point, an advertisement for the zombie show she'd been watching with Daryl came on during commercials and caught her attention, and she smiled at the memory.

After a while, with the hum of the dryer still going steadily, Beth was eying the piano that sat in the corner. It was clean and dust-free, polished and obviously well taken care of. It was old, she could tell, but it had endured successfully and remained in good hands. The ivories called to her, and memories of the years of piano lessons she had endured flashed in her head. It had been bothersome at first, and her momma had insisted on it for some unknown reason. But once she realized she had a knack for music and creating something out of nothing, Beth was hooked. She had played in church for filled pews of people, and everyone always went up to her daddy afterward to dote on her beautiful talent. Because of the piano, she had decided to pick up the guitar, and music ended up becoming one of the few escapes she had, especially once she couldn't confide in a journal anymore.

She glanced at the door a few times, wondering if Daryl would come back on his own or if she'd have to go and get him. She kept looking back at the piano, something inside her reaching for it. She yearned for something that would make her feel at home again, even if only for a short time. After several minutes of debate, she decided to get up from the couch and mute the TV, then approached the piano. Beth stood before it, just behind the bench, and looked down at the gleaming, white keys and their accompanying black keys. She intertwined her fingers together and stretched them out, cracking her knuckles simultaneously. Then she pulled the bench out carefully and sat down with caution, praying it wasn't an antique that was about to crumble apart at a touch. But it proved to be sturdy, even in its age, and when she put her fingers to the keys, she was able to close her eyes and imagine that she was in her daddy's church again, about to play a song for the congregation.

She hadn't had any idea of what she wanted to play. All she knew was that she wanted to feel the ivories beneath her fingers and the way their sound vibrated through her bones. When her fingers began moving, she quickly realized that she was playing "The Parting Glass" and, though she couldn't explain why her hands chose that particular muscle memory, she followed it and began to sing. Her voice didn't waver or crack, nor did she lower it for fear of being heard. She knew that she'd never heard the piano being played from inside Daryl's apartment, and why was it here if Carol didn't play it at least once in a while? Instead, she took advantage of her solitude in the quiet apartment and sang nearly as loudly as she would every Sunday, and some Wednesdays, in church.

" _Oh, all the money that e'er I spent, I spent it in good company… And all the harm that e'er I've done, alas, it was to none but me_ ," she sang, fingers nearly floating across the keys of the piano as her eyelashes fluttered and her throat tickled from the changing tones of her singing voice, her chest filling and releasing with each lungful of air while she followed the melody. " _…And all I've done for want of wit, To memory now I can't recall… So fill to me the parting glass, goodnight and joy be with you all…"_

She could see Maggie in her head, smiling, brown hair flying about her head out in the open wind and sun of the farm in Senoia. She was laughing, mouth wide open and teeth bared in enjoyment, while Glenn stood beside her, telling her jokes and whispering quiet compliments in her ear that made her blush. He was grinning, too, and his black hair was catching the same breeze and being ruffled about.

" _Oh, all the comrades that e'er I've had, are sorry for my going away_ ," Beth continued to sing, eyes shut tightly as she imagined her family's loving faces in the darkness of her eyelids, her fingers moving leisurely at their own will. " _And all the sweethearts that e'er I've had… would wish me one more day to stay… But since it falls unto my lot, that I should rise and you should not… I'll gently rise and I'll softly call…_ "

Her daddy was happy. She could picture his face, clear as day, and the beard he'd grown out over the last couple of years. The wrinkles around his eyes grew deeper and longer, but his smile never changed. She could see the Georgia breeze tousling his gray hair, and the way he beamed anytime he looked at Maggie or Beth or Shawn. He was smiling now – she could see it as though he were right in front of her.

"… _Goodnight and joy be with you all… good night and joy be with you all_ ," she finished the song as her fingers found the last keys, the notes ringing out from the piano and echoing off the ceiling and walls. When the song finished, she felt as though something had escaped her body, or like she'd just taken off a heavy coat. She shrugged her shoulders a few times, shaking out the last bits of chills that had been coursing up and down her spine. But she couldn't get rid of the feeling that she was being watched.

She'd been so engrossed in the song she was playing and singing, dragged down into the depths of memories and old images of her family - like a dusty photo album invading her mind - that she hadn't noticed the feeling of another presence in the room until everything had gone silent. She opened her eyes and looked around at first, seeing nothing changed. But then she turned around on the piano bench to look behind her toward the front door and found Daryl standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with his weight resting on one leg. His arms were crossed in front of him and she had no idea how long he'd been standing there. There was the faintest trace of a smile on his lips beneath the facial hair, and his eyes were focused steadily on Beth.

Her face dropped and she felt the heat rising to her cheeks, turning away and standing up from the bench quickly. She turned back, but avoided eye contact.

"Oh, sorry – I-I didn't realize you were there," she apologized, stepping away from the piano and listening for the hum of the dryer. But she couldn't hear it, and she feared he'd be upset that she was using Carol's piano without permission while also ignoring his request for her to let him know when the dryer was done. "I – um – sorry, I know I shouldn't have touched it without asking, I just… got bored."

But he shook his head, still looking peacefully pleasant. "'M sure she won't care. Didn't know you played."

She shrugged, cheeks still hot as she forced herself to make eye contact. "I took lessons as a kid. I… only know a few songs."

He nodded, "Ain't the worst I ever heard. I liked it… Yer pretty good."

She saw the small smile on his face and smiled back, relaxing. "Thanks."

He stepped away from the doorway, entering the apartment fully and closing the door behind him. "You can keep playin'. I was just gonna check the dryer."

She shrugged and lied, "I just wanted to see if I could still play. Um, I think your clothes are done now. They were still going when I last checked…"

He walked away without a word and disappeared inside the bathroom. Beth glanced back at the piano, wondering how long he'd been standing in the doorway and listening to her. A few moments later, he reemerged with the hamper in his hands, stuffed full with his clean, dry clothes. She rushed over to the door and opened it for him, offering help as he carried his hamper out into the hall.

"Alright, y'can throw your clothes in now, if you want," he told her, stopping in the hall. "I gotta make sure Mal's ready for his bath. Lemme know when ya get back so I can lock up Carol's place."

Beth nodded in understanding and shut the door again. She headed to the bathroom and moved her clean, wet clothes into the dryer. Her mind was racing again, not only with thoughts of her family but also with thoughts of Daryl and Carol and even Sophia. When the dryer was turned back on and working on her load of laundry, she went back to the living room and sat down at the piano once more, but didn't play any particular songs. She played around on the keys, tapping out old, simple tunes and reminiscing about the more pleasant memories she held. The hum of the dryer continued and when she got bored with the piano, she went back to the TV and surfed through the channels to kill time.

After her laundry was done and she had returned to her bedroom, bag full of clean clothes and Carol's apartment safely empty and locked, Beth bid goodnight to Daryl and Malachi. The toddler was being fussy after having dinner, and Daryl seemed to be getting frustrated. Both of the boys headed to their bedroom at the end of the hall, all grumbles and disagreements, and Beth retreated into her bedroom and shut the door tightly. She knew she wouldn't be able to get to sleep for quite some time, but she'd grabbed a few books from Daryl's bookcase and stacked them on the nightstand in preparation. She emptied out her bag of clothes onto the bed and sorted through them, folding and organizing each item and then placing them in the empty dresser drawers. She was relieved to have clean clothes again.

When she'd finished and settled down, she wandered out into the apartment and found it dark except for the stove light. The boys' voices could still be heard from the bedroom at the end of the hall, but they were quiet. Beth found the plate of dinner that Daryl had left for her sitting in the microwave, and she reheated it and ate while standing in the kitchen. When she was done, she grabbed a glass of water and went back to her bedroom for the night.

After getting comfortable and laying down in bed, she pulled her phone to her first and began scrolling through her email inbox before settling in with a book for the night. She was disappointed to find no reply from Jesus, but she assured herself that he would take time to respond since he was so busy. She moved to the news sites to double-check for updates before trying to leave it be until morning. Unfortunately, the very first headline at the top of the page – for both the Atlanta news _and_ the Georgia news – was a video post concerning the Greene family's case.

Beth's heart skipped and she clicked on the link of the headline, which read: _Comatose Officer's Wife Pleads For Help in Locating Wanted Fugitive_. The page contained a small box that held the video, and a short description that read, " _Lori Grimes, wife of Detective Rick Grimes, stands with their son, Carl Grimes, as she asks the public for their help in locating the missing 18-year-old Beth Greene, who is wanted for the murder of Grimes' partner, Detective Shane Walsh._ " Beth tapped the small Play button on the video and watched as the video took up the screen of her phone and came to life.

Standing at a podium, surrounded by microphones, photographers, reporters, and police officers in uniform, was a middle-aged woman, her dark black hair flowing down her back and shoulders in dry, frizzy strands. She wasn't wearing makeup and looked like she hadn't slept in days. Beside her stood a young boy, maybe nine or ten years old, with brown hair and a round face, one hand on his mother's leg as he stared out at the crowd with wide, anxious eyes. The woman was tall and lanky, nearly skin-and-bones, and she wore a burgundy dress that hung loosely on her tiny frame. She stood close to the podium, nearly pressed against it, and her trembling, skeleton-like hands held a piece of paper that she kept glancing at as she spoke into the various microphones set up before her.

"I'm Lori Grimes. I am the – the wife of Detective Rick Grimes," her voice was shaky, but grew stronger as she continued to speak, her voice getting louder and carefully enunciating each word clearly. "Last Saturday night, the twenty-sixth of August, my husband entered the home of Hershel Greene with his partner of five years and best friend of seventeen years, Detective Shane Walsh… My husband left with his life. Shane Walsh _did not_. Now, the _father of my child_ lies in a hospital bed, fighting for his life… He has been in a coma since August twenty-sixth, and he remains stable. But we do not know if he will wake up. And _if_ he wakes up, we do not know if he will _ever_ live a normal life… Hershel Greene's oldest daughter, Maggie Greene-Rhee, bashed _my husband_ over the skull with a lamp. Now, Hershel and Maggie, as well as her husband, Glenn Rhee, are in police custody, awaiting trial. Meanwhile, my husband battles _every day_ just to continue _breathing_."

This woman seemed to be composing herself fairly well, despite her appearance, but her words were still shaky, and her voice wavered here and there. Beth was holding her breath as she watched, eyes brimming with tears while this woman she'd never met spoke so passionately – and _vengefully_ \- to the cameras.

"Hershel Greene's youngest daughter, Beth Greene, _killed_ Detective Shane Walsh. She shot him in cold blood, without a moment's notice, without a second thought… He was thirty-six years old. He was our _best friend_. He was the godfather to our son, and would've been the godfather to our second child… He was in law enforcement his entire life, and dedicated _everything_ he had to serving and protecting. When he stepped onto that farm, he didn't know he would never leave. But never, _for a second_ , did he hesitate. Never, _for a second_ , did he put _himself_ before _someone else_. And he paid for it _with his life_! Now, the woman who did this is out there somewhere. She's free and she's alive and she's evading _justice_. At the cost of Detective Shane Walsh's life... Her sister may pay for the damage she's caused our family… but until we can apprehend Beth Greene and bring her to justice, Shane Walsh will _never_ be avenged. There is no justice until we can arrest this _heinous_ woman… Please, if you know _anything_ , if you've _seen_ anything, call the number we've listed. Call nine-one-one. _Tell_ someone. Anything helps, so please, _please_ do your part in bringing this murderer to justice. I, personally, will _never_ feel safe sending my son to school while I know that Beth Greene is still out there somewhere, walking free after she _killed_ my husband's partner, and our _very_ best friend, in cold blood."

Beth nearly rolled her eyes, a bit in disbelief at how dramatic this woman was being. But at the same time, she could feel the pit in the bottom of her stomach opening up, and she knew this was the result of her own actions. She'd caused irreparable pain and damage – not just to her own family, but to others. A phone numbers was listed in bold, white print at the bottom of the screen of the video, urging viewers to call in tips. They also displayed a website and the address to the police station that was in charge of the case. Beth searched the screen for any signs of FBI information – whether it be to contact them or otherwise – but couldn't seem to find any. She wondered if that meant the case hadn't gone to the FBI yet.

"Please, please call and report any info you may have. Her name is _Beth Greene_. She's eighteen years old," Lori Grimes continued, stepping a bit closer to the microphones and speaking loudly and clearly. A small square popped up on the screen and displayed the same photo of Beth that they'd been putting into the news articles, remaining on the screen for the remainder of the video clip. "She has blonde hair, blue eyes, she's five-foot-four, and she weighs one-hundred-and-ten pounds. She was last seen with a black bag, wearing jeans and a green shirt. She may be armed, and she is _very_ dangerous. If you even _think_ you've seen her, please, _please_ call. She was last seen on the night of August twenty-sixth heading northeast of Senoia, but she could be _anywhere_ … Thank you, everyone, for all the well wishes and everything you've done to help us catch these criminals so far. I, um… I just want to add that… Rick would be _very_ proud of his community right now. And I know that, _if_ he were _able_ , he'd be right back out on the streets, searching for Beth Greene at this very moment… Thank you again."

With that, Lori Grimes stepped away from the podium, eyes full of fire and tears, and the video ended. The screen of Beth's phone returned to the original article that had held the video clip, but she stared at it blankly.

She just kept asking herself how this story hadn't gone national yet.

 **to be continued…**


	16. Detective Grimes I

_**Detective Grimes I**_

Lori's voice drifted in and out, like a camera refocusing over and over. The words came in bits and pieces, breaking off randomly, some louder and some no more than whispers.

"Rick…"

"…Oh, Rick, please – please, Rick, _wake_ …"

"Wake up, Rick…"

"…son is here…"

"…he's…"

"…Rick – I need you to listen t' me, if you're in there – somewhere…"

"…oh, honey, I'm so, _so_ sorry..."

"Sweetie, _please_ , wake up…"

There was no sense of time for Rick. Everything felt weightless and fleeting. He struggled to grasp consciousness or reality, but it always slipped through his fingers. He seemed to float through an abyss, his wife's voice guiding him in and out.

"…Shane… Shane… oh, _God_ , Shane…"

"…funeral…"

"…Carl didn't want – Rick, you _have_ to…"

She sounded choked up and teary more often than not. He wanted to talk back, he wanted to open his eyes and find her. But every time he tried, the words remained on the tip of his tongue and wouldn't move any farther. Sometimes he thought he could hear his son, even if just for a second.

" – Dad… wake up…"

Carl didn't sound like Carl, though. He sounded pained. Rick fought to reach out to his son – his flesh and blood, his _boy_. But he still couldn't seem to grasp anything. It was all like a brief dream, beginning and ending before Rick could even understand what was going on.

All he could remember was working on a case with his partner and best friend, Shane. They'd known it would be dangerous, and they were prepared for that, but something happened. He'd been standing in the house, Shane right beside him, and he could feel the metal of his gun against the skin on his lower back. His heart had been racing because he knew this was a huge case and it would be an enormous bust for everyone involved. He'd been staring into the menacing eyes of Hershel Greene, trying to figure out what the old man was thinking, silently wondering how dangerous this family really was. But then everything went black. There was a loud sound, like a gun, or a bone breaking.

Everything felt like it had taken place all at once within a split-second to Rick. And now he was stuck - hanging in that split-second for the foreseeable future, a jumble of words waiting on his tongue to be spilled out…

 **to be continued…**


	17. if you go straight long enough, you'll

_**if you go straight long enough, you'll end up where you were**_

There was a text waiting on Beth's phone when she woke up on Tuesday morning. To her disappointment, it was just Irma and Dale checking in on her and reporting that they were currently driving through the Midwest. She texted back an assurance of her safety and well-being before jumping to her email inbox in hopes of an answer from Jesus. But all she had were more offers of sex with strangers. She cleared the messages with a disgusted scowl.

The news hadn't posted any updates on her story, and she took it as a good sign considering it was approaching noon. She hoped it would be a busy news day for politics and world affairs. However, the nagging voice at the back of her mind was reminding her that all she _could_ do for the foreseeable future was hope that other, more interesting news kept happening and that no one would grow interested in the case of a runaway, eighteen-year-old, cop killer.

Beth was beginning to grow comfortable in her new morning routine. She knew that Daryl and Malachi had left earlier because, like normal, she woke briefly to hear the sound of the front door around 7:30. The apartment was empty and peaceful once again, and she walked about leisurely. Once she'd assured herself that it wasn't another holiday and there was no plausible reason for Daryl to walk in early, she went back to leaving her pants in the bedroom. Instead, she wandered about the apartment in her panties and night shirt, sipping fresh coffee and fully waking up.

After brushing her teeth and taking a long, hot shower without fear of interruption, Beth dressed in sweatpants and her night shirt and went about making herself breakfast. From the dishes left behind, she assumed Daryl and Malachi had eaten oatmeal and Lucky Charms, and when she'd finished eating her own meal, she washed all the dirty dishes and left them in the dishrack to dry. When she finally settled down on the couch with her second cup of coffee and her phone, it was past noon. But the sounds drifting in through the open window in the living room indicated that the city was just starting to come fully alive. The rain had cleared up the day before and revealed sunlight and mild temperatures, but today was a different story. The temperature was hotter, and the humidity hung in the air, but the clouds had returned to cover most of the sun, and rain kept falling somewhat randomly from the progressively darkening sky.

Beth liked the smell of the rain, though. She breathed it in deeply, finding her muscles relaxing from the presence of the familiar sensation. The damp air drifting through the apartment brought back faint memories of rainy nights in her bedroom back home, when she'd leave her window open and she could hear the bullfrogs from clear down at the creek.

She checked the news on her phone again to find other stories still being reported on. She sighed softly in relief and set the phone down, grabbing the TV remote instead and turning it on. The screen came to life and interrupted the content silence that had encased the living room. But it proved to make Beth feel a little less alone for the moment, which could be nice sometimes. She didn't feel like reading today, but she didn't want to sit around and dwell on the same old problems again either.

It had only been about an hour of channel-surfing through reality shows when a knock came at the front door. Beth jumped and looked over to the door, as if it would show her who was outside. She listened for a voice, but none came. Quickly and quietly, she got up and went to the door, standing up on her tiptoes to look out through the peephole. Waiting in front of the door was Carol, head turned to look down the hall.

Beth let out the breath she'd been holding and unlocked the door, opening it. "Everythin' okay?"

Carol turned to look at Beth as soon as she heard the door opening. She was standing in the hall, Malachi gripping her hand from beside her. She smiled politely and nodded. "Yeah, somebody just forgot his favorite sleeping buddy for naptime."

Beth looked down to Malachi to see that he had tears in his eyes and his thumb in his mouth, whimpers coming from his throat every few seconds. She gave Carol a sympathetic smile and stepped aside to let them in. They entered the apartment and headed straight for the boys' bedroom, Beth shutting the door behind them. Within seconds, they came back, Malachi now holding a rubber ant the size of a teddy bear. His eyes were still teary, but he looked exceptionally happier and he was no longer whimpering.

"Hey, are you busy right now?" Carol stopped as she approached the door to face Beth, who remained frozen where she stood, caught off guard by the question.

She shook her head and managed to mutter, "No – not really."

Carol made a pointed glance at Beth's hair and said, "I can trim that up for you real quick, if ya want. Just make it look… more _intentional_."

Beth quirked an eyebrow, her first instinct to be suspicious, but reminded herself to try to relax. She shrugged. At first, she wondered if Daryl had told his neighbor about their awkward encounter the day before. "Um, sure. I guess. I mean – I didn't really think it looked _that_ bad, but - "

Carol waved her free hand dismissively and shook her head as she reached for the door handle. "No, no, it's not like that. It'll still be the same haircut, except it'll be _even_. Am I gonna have to coax you for months like I do with Daryl?"

Beth raised her eyebrows curiously. "Well – okay. If you really want to, I s'pose… What – how d'you _coax_ Daryl into a haircut?"

Carol paused with her hand holding the front door partly open, smirking with a mischievous sparkle in her blue eyes. "Cookies."

* * *

 _Sixteen-year-old Beth Greene was lying in her bed, eyes shut as she tried to force herself to fall back to sleep. Her curtains were drawn to keep out the bright June sunlight, but it still cast light over the piles of dirty clothes in her room and the pile that was her own body wrapped up in a blanket atop the bed. She had drifted in and out of sleep all night, her wrist still aching and itching underneath the layers of bandages so badly at times that she couldn't lie still._

 _No matter how much she slept, though, she always felt exhausted._

 _There was a knock at her door, and she opened her eyes. It wasn't even noon yet, and her momma usually didn't try to bother her until after lunch time. Beth wondered if she was going to try to get her to eat some breakfast again today. It had been a day and a half since she'd eaten a bowl of soup – forcing it down despite the fact that it tasted like cardboard – and she still had no inkling of an appetite._

 _The knock came again, and Beth tried to ignore it once more. But as she rolled over, she heard another knock, and seconds later, the door was being opened. She groaned and looked up to see Maggie entering her bedroom, a scary look of determination on her face._

" _Go away," Beth mumbled from her cocoon of blankets and pillows, rolling over again so that her back was to Maggie._

" _Get up," her older sister demanded. The brunette had fire in her eyes, and she walked over to the side of Beth's bed to lean down and begin nudging her._

" _No. I'm tryin' to sleep," Beth grumbled, pulling the blankets over her head._

" _Beth, I'm not messin' with you today. Get up, or I_ _ **will**_ _bring the hose in here," Maggie ordered. Her voice was stern and serious, and she was clearly in no mood to play around._

" _I don't feel good," Beth answered, voice muffled from beneath the blanket._

 _Maggie grabbed it and yanked it off of the blonde, "Beth, you've been in bed all week. Your wrist is healin' and you're_ _ **fine**_ _. It's time to get up and start living or you're just gonna wanna kill yourself again!"_

 _Beth groaned loudly, trying to kick Maggie's hand away as she continued pulling the blankets off of her. "Leave me alone! I don't wanna be a part of this_ _ **shitty**_ _family anymore!"_

 _As soon as she'd said it, though, Beth knew it had been a mistake. Her sister's face scrunched up in anger and the fire in her eyes turned into a blaze. She grabbed Beth by the arms and forced her to sit up, staring directly into her eyes._

" _You don't get to_ _ **do**_ _this. Okay? I can't do this shit alone," her voice was low and serious. "Whether you like it or not, you're part of this family. You got one more year of this shit and then you can go anywhere you want for college. I don't get that option. You don't_ _ **wanna**_ _die. Remember? You told me_ _ **yourself**_ _!"_

 _Yes, Beth remembered. She'd said it out of sheer panic while trying to hold her skin on her wrist together to stop the profuse bleeding. She also remembered the way Maggie had asked her, over and over, "Why? Why, why, why?!"_

 _But her older sister continued sternly, "…Now you learned your lesson, and you had your time to be depressed. So it's time to get the fuck up and help me deal with this shit so we can make sure you move on t'do somethin' better with your life and get the hell away from all of_ _ **this**_ _."_

 _Beth's eyes were tearing up, but she forced them back. Her sister's grip on her arms hadn't loosened, nor had her gaze gotten any less intense. Her words were heavy on Beth's ears, but only because she knew they were true._

" _You can do this, alright?_ _ **We**_ _can do this. This is our_ _ **family**_ _; you don't abandon your family," Maggie continued, voice softening just the slightest. "Daddy needs us, Mom needs us, Shawn needs us. We're strong because we_ _ **have**_ _t'be. Now get up and help me... Glenn and Shawn are in the city for the day and I can't do everythin' by myself. Come on."_

 _Beth gazed at her older sister with a silent expression, but Maggie understood it well. Sometimes, they didn't need words to communicate._

 _She squeezed the young blonde's arms reassuringly, her voice still conveying tough love as she added, "You're a_ _ **Greene..**_ _. Now act like one."_

 _She let go and stood up, turning and leaving the bedroom with Beth still sitting on the edge of her bed in silence. The younger sister knew that Maggie was right._

 _But that didn't make it any easier._

* * *

Carol's apartment _actually_ smelled like cookies. When the door to 3B was open, even briefly, the smell invaded the hall and floated across to 3A. Beth had smelled it before walking inside, but once the door was shut, it enveloped her. Her stomach grumbled and she smiled to herself, not having expected to find actual cookies when she followed Carol and Malachi across the hall. But when she'd stepped into the living room and looked to her right, she could see the plate of freshly baked treats sitting on the counter in the kitchen.

"I'm gonna lay him back down. You can help yourself to a cookie, if you'd like," Carol explained, gesturing to the plate before leading the toddler down the hall to her bedroom.

Beth approached the counter and gingerly plucked a cookie from the plate. It was still warm and a little soft from the oven. She chewed it slowly, thinking about how her momma's had been better, but these were still really good.

When Carol came back, she was holding a black box in her hands, and she left the bedroom door open just a crack, but the room remained silent. The TV was on in the living room at a low volume, serving as nothing more than white noise, and Sophia's bedroom was dark and the door was shut while she was away at school. Beth stood aside and watched as the older woman set the box down on the bar in the kitchen before grabbing one of the bar stools and moving it to the center of the kitchen's tile floor. She gestured to the stool and looked at Beth, who seated herself upon it without a word.

The older woman then walked to the bathroom, disappearing for a few seconds before coming back with a towel and a few hairclips. She set her tools down with the black box and wrapped the towel around Beth's neck, letting it drape over her shoulders, back, and chest. Beth took out her earrings, setting them on the counter to avoid getting them caught in the comb or getting pulled on.

They didn't speak – Beth wasn't quite sure how to start a conversation – and Carol set to work on the uneven, shaggy mop that sat atop Beth's head. She pulled out a shiny pair of professional-looking scissors from the black box and ran a comb through Beth's hair, clipping up the top half of it as she worked to comb through the bottom half and capture singular strands between her fingers. Beth fought the urge to wince the first few times she felt the older woman's hands on her scalp or tugging on the strands of her hair.

Thankfully, Carol spoke first, her tone the same as if she were talking about the weather. She seemed to have found the silence a little too boring. "Boy's down for his nap… He'll probably be out for a good hour."

Beth was unsure of what to say, and she didn't want to nod her head while there were scissors near her scalp. She muttered, "That's good… I guess – he has an ant instead of a teddy bear? To sleep with?"

Carol chuckled lightly. "You should see his nightlights in the summertime. When the fireflies are out, Daryl takes him to the park and they catch 'em in jars. He sits them next to his bed so he can watch 'em blink all night."

Beth smiled. "Can't say I never did that back home."

"Well, rest of the year, he's got pill bugs an' beetles in there. Daryl lets him keep them in the bedroom but I dunno about that," Carol explained, chuckling at the end.

Beth laughed in surprise, the memory of seeing the jars clicking in her head. Now she understood why it had looked like jars full of leaves and sticks – she just hadn't seen the bugs inside. "He's somethin' else…"

She'd said it as an idle comment, something she'd heard said by adults for as long as she could remember, but Carol's voice grew serious and she said, quietly, "Yeah, well… he is. They both are. They've been through a lot together."

Beth swallowed hard and looked down at the floor. Carol continued combing and cutting off pieces of hair, and Beth could hear the scissors clipping away near her ear: _snip_ , _snip_ , _snip_.

"Yeah, I… had no idea," she mumbled when the silence became too heavy.

Carol sighed. "Yeah, I know…"

 _Snip_. _Snip_. _Snip_.

"He doesn't like t'talk about it. He doesn't like to talk about anything… Daryl is – uh, _different_. He's an… island of a man," the older woman explained, her voice hushed in the quiet apartment as the sound of her scissors accompanied her words.

"I just didn't wanna… intrude," Beth mumbled.

"Don't worry about it," Carol said. "He likes you. He would have kicked you out by now if he didn't. I know he can be tough t'read sometimes."

Beth held back a laugh. _Sometimes?_ She thought.

She wasn't sure if Carol was setting up the conversation for Beth to ask questions about Daryl's past or to try to test Beth's true intentions; if Daryl was hard to read, this woman was practically written in braille.

 _Snip_ , _snip_ , _snip_.

"I… noticed there aren't any pictures in the apartment," Beth started, voice hesitant. "…of Malachi's mom…"

She could hear Carol's sigh near her ear and felt the hot breath ruffle a bit of her hair. She immediately regretted the question, sensing that she had overstepped her bounds. The scissors didn't stop, though.

 _Snip_ , _snip_ , _snip_ , _snip_.

She felt a clip pulled from her hair and it released the bit of hair it had been holding up, which Carol began separating, combing, and cutting. After a few long seconds of silence, in which she'd seemed to be thinking, Carol answered.

"I don't think he has many pictures. She passed away when Mal was a baby," her voice grew quieter, as though she feared Malachi hearing her from the bedroom, and her scissor cuts became slower and more careful as she explained. "She and Daryl were together for a few years, she was a nice girl. I never met her – he didn't move in next door until after she was gone – but he's been alone ever since. Not that he's really the relationship type anyway. But I think she was good for him."

She pulled another clip from Beth's hair and began cutting into another section, then moved onto the next. Beth sat in silence, wanting to ask one particular question but hesitating.

"…How-how did she… pass away?" She finally asked, trying to word it as carefully as possible.

Carol pulled another clip and freed the last of Beth's hair, but her movements didn't become any rougher or any gentler. She explained in the same hushed tone she'd used moments before, to Beth's relief.

"She took her own life about six months after Malachi was born… She had postpartum depression and – well, neither of them understood what was goin' on, so they didn't know how to deal with it. She ended up dealing with it the only way she knew how."

The breath caught in Beth's throat. She instantly remembered the book she'd seen in Daryl's bookcase – _Understanding Postpartum Depression_ – and the disturbing lack of family photos. She understood now why he never mentioned it. And she understood why he didn't want to 'talk about it,' as Carol had said. She could only imagine that she wouldn't want to talk about something like that, either.

Her wrist started aching, and she rubbed at it with her other hand beneath the towel that covered her.

"Wow, I had… no idea," she muttered, at a loss for words.

"Yeah, it's a touchy subject," Carol said casually as she trimmed up the last few pieces of Beth's hair and took a step back to inspect. "There we go – that's a lot better. Come take a look in the mirror."

Beth hopped off the barstool and followed Carol to the bathroom, where she turned on the light and moved to let Beth step in front of the mirror above the sink. Surprisingly, Beth _did_ notice a difference. Carol hadn't been full of shit after all, and she'd actually done a really good job of cleaning up Beth's impromptu haircut into something that looked stylish and, like the older woman had so accurately described it earlier, _intentional_. She hadn't taken any more length, leaving the ends reaching just past Beth's ears, but she'd evened the choppy ends and added layers to make it look more voluminous and silky. Beth was still having a difficult time adjusting to the image of herself as a brunette, but at the moment, she was feeling a little more like Beth Greene and a little less like Rosie.

"The dye you used was pretty cheap - the blonde still shows through in certain lighting. You might wanna do another application," Carol commented, reaching out to run her fingers through the freshly-cut hair and inspect her own work. Beth flinched away from her touch but immediately caught herself and tried to play it off like she'd been leaning away coincidentally. She could tell Carol had noticed, though. However, what worried her more was the fact that this woman could tell she was naturally blonde.

"Your natural eyes are very pretty," Carol said casually, keeping her hands to herself this time. Beth found herself caught by surprise once again.

She side-eyed the older woman for just a second before turning away from the mirror and looking at her face-to-face, asking, "He told you – didn't he?"

Carol's demeanor didn't change. She continued smiling pleasantly, as if she'd already known everything to begin with, and returned Beth's gaze with unbroken eye contact. She nodded.

"He didn't have to, though - you already showed most of the signs."

Beth gave her a quizzical look. "Signs?"

Carol's voice grew softer, more gentle. "Of abuse. It's none of my business, but – well, I'm studying to be licensed in this sorta thing. I could see through Daryl, you think I couldn't see through you?"

She wasn't sure how to answer that. Her heart was racing and she feared Carol knew more than she was letting on. Yet she was acting like she was trying to approach a wounded animal, working to earn Beth's trust first before admitting that she already knew her little story.

"They were just contacts – anyone with a good eye could see they weren't natural. Don't worry, though, your secret is safe with me. Daryl wouldn't have told me if he didn't trust me. He's just… not very good at dealing with situations _delicately_ ," Carol explained. "But he cares. And he's worried. And so am I. He said you still had a black eye when he met you…"

Beth shrugged, trying not to let the older woman manipulate her. She didn't say it aloud, but in her head, she was thinking, _Yeah, well he didn't get away unscathed, so…_

She didn't need someone getting this close right now, and she hadn't told Daryl that lie because she'd wanted someone to "care." She wasn't upset in the slightest that he'd told Carol. If anything, it helped her, because that was one less person she'd have to recite the lie to and try to convince. He had just convinced his neighbor for her. No, she wasn't upset, but she was a little disappointed – mostly at the fact that both these people had assumed she was abused. But they didn't even know half of the real truth.

"Yeah, but… it must've gotten pretty bad if you felt the need to disguise yourself in a state so far away," Carol went on, furrowing her brow. "You're not alone, though. Millions of people are abused every day. That's why I'm goin' into that kind of work – I wanna help other women like you and me."

 _Abused?_ She thought bitterly. _I'm not some battered woman. I'm not a victim. I was never_ _ **abused**_ _… But if they wanna think that - fine. I'll play the part._

Carol interpreted Beth's long pause as hesitance to speak, or fear. "You don't have to talk about it. I understand. It's none of _my_ business. But I just want you to know that you're safe. None of us will let anything happen to you. Most of us have been in… similar positions."

Beth furrowed her brow. " _Us_?"

"Me, Daryl, Rosita, Tara, the other girls in the class - _us_ ," Carol explained.

"What – what d'you mean?" She asked, still confused.

Carol shrugged, "Well, you might not consider them friends yet, but you should. We all met because of the class but we were brought together by something bigger: we're all survivors."

Beth stared at Carol blankly, her voice coming out weak, "Of… abuse?"

Carol nodded. "Sophia and I left her father back in Georgia because of it... Tara helped her sister and niece escape her abusive brother-in-law... Rosita left an abusive boyfriend after two hospital stays just months before she joined the class. And Daryl… well, he experienced a – pretty _rough_ childhood, and he's still recovering from it in a way… But we all survived. And it brought us together and made us better."

Beth took in the information slowly, trying to imagine what Carol was describing. She hadn't had the slightest clue about Tara and Rosita's stories – although it wasn't exactly something you'd find out during one lunch outing – and Daryl's was somehow unsurprising, in a way, though still shocking to hear aloud. She knew that even the girls in the class didn't know Daryl was also an abuse survivor – or at least, they'd _said_ they didn't know, although they'd made some assumptions. And of course, she'd known about Carol's story, just like everyone else did. But it was a harsh reality to have your eyes opened to. She realized Rosita had been right when she'd said that Carol was a 'magnet for the formerly abused.' She had wondered what that meant at the time, but now it made perfect sense.

"You're lucky to have found Daryl out here," Carol added. "Especially when you're carrying around a bag full of money."

"I know," Beth said, her words finally coming back to her. "I'm… still figurin' things out. I'm working on getting a new ID and everything. I just – I don't want him t'find me. I don't know how far I'll have t'go to get away."

The story was flowing from her effortlessly as lies formed in her head one after the other. The look of sympathy on Carol's face was fueling her. Her heart raced, but not from being nervous or scared – instead, she was ecstatic that her cover story was fitting in so well with the entire situation. She could play on Carol's emotions and convince her without a doubt at this point.

Carol nodded as she listened and spoke gently as they stood together in the quiet bathroom, "I know. Did you wait until you had your inheritance? Did any of your abuse have to do with the money?"

Beth shook her head. "No, he-he doesn't know I got the inheritance. I took it and left as soon as I had the chance. I got out of the state as fast as I could, but he's a cop, so I dunno – well, I don't know how far he'd actually go t'get to me."

Carol nodded again, her eyes studying Beth carefully as she spoke. "I understand. What kind of police officer is he? Do you know if he has any connections clear up here?"

Again, Beth shook her head, the story building in her mind as it spilled from her mouth. "Just a – well, um, he's – a detective. He's a detective and I'm just not sure how many people he knows. I got as far away as I could but… he's capable of anything. Really."

She had stumbled over her words while trying to think of a believable lie and instinctively said "detective" because it had been the first title to come to mind. She knew, though, that she was subconsciously describing the detective that was still lying in a hospital bed, comatose, back in Atlanta.

"It's okay," Carol said. "You've gone to some pretty great lengths to avoid anyone seeing you, I don't think you have to worry."

Beth watched Carol's eyes switch from sympathetic to suspicious and back again within just a few seconds before the older woman spoke again, asking, "Are you sure… there's not somethin' else?"

Beth gave her a quizzical look.

"We don't have to talk about it, I just… it seems like – well, maybe there's another part of this that you're not mentioning," Carol explained, the suspicion appearing in her eyes again. "I'm not saying you did anything wrong – and don't _ever_ think that, because you did the right thing by gettin' out and far away – but… Look: you can't keep everything bottled up forever. Okay? It's still fresh, it's all still new and scary. But when you're ready to talk… I'm here. And I can keep a secret. Trust me... Whatever you had to do to get yourself to safety was necessary, and it's no one's business but your own…"

Beth didn't answer, completely dumbfounded and speechless. Was Carol seeing through her ruse right now without even realizing it? Or was she trying to pry more dirty details from "Rosie" to discover the extent of the abuse? Maybe she was just taking her counseling training a little too seriously.

"Can I ask you about that scar on your wrist?"

Carol's sudden question caught Beth off-guard and her eyes widened slightly, her right hand instinctually moving to grab her left wrist and cover it. But she corrected herself and pulled it away, then nodded slowly before holding her wrist out for the older woman to inspect. She took Beth's forearm in her hands gingerly and looked closely at the scar – there were still rows of white dots on either side of the faint, white line from where the stitches had been. As Carol stared down at it, Beth remembered watching Maggie stitch it back together, tears still rolling down her big sister's cheeks as she did so.

"Were you _trying_ to kill yourself?" Carol asked.

This question surprised Beth, too, yet the answer came out easily and without a second thought. "Yes… and no."

Carol nodded, letting go of Beth's arm and letting her pull it back in close to her body. "Sophia's been… cutting herself. And burning herself. We've been goin' to therapy but… it just seems to get worse."

Beth listened intently, studying the older woman as her vulnerability began to show through. It quickly reminded her that Carol was just another mother who was trying to protect her daughter. She asked curiously, "Because of her dad?"

Carol nodded without hesitation. "He's been gone a while, but what he did… it just never goes away. I should've left sooner, but I didn't, and that's my fault. But I'm tryin' to help her now and the older she gets, the harder it gets. I know she doesn't blame me, but I'm trying to convince her that she can't blame _herself_ either."

Beth nodded understandingly. At first, she'd wanted to turn the conversation back on her just to get out from under the spotlight, but as she watched Carol and the worry that creased her face, she felt empathy for her. It made her think about her own mother, even though she didn't want to… Was she actually _connecting_ to this woman right now? Without having to lie about it?

"I don't think she wants to die. And I don't think she wants t'hurt you, even though she is," Beth said, offering advice from her own personal experience. "But she has all that pain and nothing to do with it… Sometimes, jumpin' ship seems like the best option. Even though it really isn't… The second I realized that I was actually _going_ to die was the second that I realized I didn't actually _want_ to die."

Carol shook her head as if she were shaking the thoughts out of her mind, and mumbled, "Daryl does that stuff, too… blames himself. For everythin'. He could use some counseling, too, but he absolutely refuses. He's a wonderful man but I – I'm scared that Sophia will grow up and be emotionally stunted like that."

Beth was a bit taken aback by this remark but understood that it was most likely true. Not to mention, it helped explain some things about his behavior and demeanor. It was a reasonable fear for a mother to have.

Carol sighed and shook her head again, then put on a half-forced smile and said, in a cheerier tone, "Let's go back t'the kitchen. You want some tea or water? More cookies?"

Beth nodded and pulled the towel off her shoulders to hand it to Carol, who tossed it into the laundry basket next to the washer and dryer. She shut off the bathroom light and led Beth back to the kitchen, setting out two glasses of sweet tea on the kitchen bar. Beth took a seat on one of the stools at the bar and helped herself to another cookie with her tea while she watched Carol gather her tools up and sweep all the hair from the kitchen floor. When she was done, she replaced the other barstool to its spot and joined Beth.

"So how long d'you think you'll stay?" Carol asked, sipping her tea and grabbing her own cookie to nibble on.

Beth shrugged, staring down at the glass of tea sitting in front of her. "Not… long. I don't think. I'm um – waitin' to hear from a family friend about a place to go. It would be somewhere safe that can actually be… long-term."

Carol nodded. "Okay… and what if that falls through? Is there a backup plan?"

Beth looked up to meet Carol's bright blue eyes. Even though she was lying, it was mostly just a disguise for the truth. Carol was making a good point: what if Jesus _did_ fall through? Then what would her options be?

"…No. I guess… not…"

Carol raised an eyebrow. "Well, sounds like you have enough money to fall back on, at least. Maybe you could stay. Once you know you're safe, you could get your own place… or move on somewhere else."

Beth nodded slowly, but her mind was drifting off elsewhere.

"You are _safe_ , ya know," Carol said softly, leaning in a bit closer to Beth. "And you deserve to be, no matter what you might've been through. You don't have t'leave. I know Daryl isn't always the most welcoming host, but he gets attached once he starts caring about you."

Beth smirked, finding the statement almost funny. "Why would he care about me? We barely know each other. I'm just – passin' through."

Carol shook her head and returned the smirk. "That might be, but damaged people sense damaged people, and some of them – like Daryl – wanna protect the others from being hurt again. It's just human nature."

Beth was, for the millionth time, unsure of what to say in response to that. She looked back down to her tea and took a slow sip. She didn't like the unfamiliar feeling that was forming in her gut.

"You believe in God?" Carol asked after a few moments of silence, and Beth looked at her again to see that she was pointing to the gold crucifix that hung from Beth's neck.

She nodded, her hand automatically reaching up to touch the family heirloom. Carol didn't ask about the ring that hung from the same chain as the cross. "Yeah. Went to church my whole life."

She knew she probably should've come up with a lie for that part, but she didn't feel right lying about her faith. Besides, the cross was out in the open, on her necklace, and she was making no effort to hide it. She could admit that she'd been going to church her entire life without going into the details about how she basically grew up in the church and that her congregation had become part of her family.

"Me, too," Carol said. "And I think this was divine intervention. What were the chances that you'd come to such a big city, so far from home, and find the exact people who could help you most at a time like this? God leads you to exactly where you need t'be."

Beth shrugged, smiling and not knowing why. She didn't want to smile at that statement, but it had forced its way onto her face, and for some reason, her heart fluttered a little. She wondered, silently, if God _was_ trying to talk to her. If she were being honest, she'd done a good job of avoiding Him thus far. Now she was realizing that He'd probably been with her the whole time.

Just like her daddy had always talked about.

"I guess… you're right. Yeah," she said quietly.

Carol smiled, pleased. "Just trust yourself for once. If it feels _right_ , if you feel safe… don't make another change that y'don't have to make. You can still settle down and have a normal life… You _can_ have a whole life that your ex will never have _any_ part of. And I know it might sound cliché, but… your abuse doesn't define you."

Beth looked away and took another sip of sweet tea. Her mind was racing and so was her heart, and she really didn't like how she couldn't tell whether Carol was being genuine and maternal or if she was just doing her best to sound like a shrink. They sat in silence for about a minute, the low sound of the TV behind them. Beth looked over at the piano in the corner, finding a reason to change the subject.

"That's a beautiful piano," she said, gesturing toward it. "Did someone give it to you?"

Carol glanced over at the piano and smiled, explaining, "Yeah, it was my mother-in-law's. She passed away when Sophia was five, but they were really close. She was beautifully talented with music… Ed wanted to sell it, but I got a storage unit and kept it away from him. I want Sophia to have it in her home one day, like her grandmother wanted."

Beth nodded, feeling a bit guilty for touching it without permission. "Wow, you got a piano all the way from Georgia to up here?"

"Oh, yeah," Carol explained casually. "I got the U-Haul rented and packed right before Sophia was discharged from the hospital for the… broken arm. That Ed gave her."

Beth's eyes widened but Carol's face remained unchanged, as though she were telling a story she'd told a million times. Her voice didn't crack but her lips pursed just slightly.

"He beat me for years, and I thought that was just… how it was s'posed to be," she began to explain when Beth remained silent and wide-eyed. "Then it started on Sophia. At first, I dismissed it as discipline… Then her teachers started askin' about the bruises. And then, one night, he lost control and snapped her arm nearly in two. That was it… When I heard my daughter's bone break, something snapped inside me, too – and we were gone within the week. He had no idea we'd even left until we were passin' though Virginia."

Beth swallowed hard, unable to look away from Carol's intense gaze. She managed to mutter, "Wow…"

The older woman seemed unaffected, and for a second, Beth was picturing herself in Carol's position. It was a little frightening to her how easily she could picture Jimmy as Ed within the scenario. She couldn't help but wonder… had she escaped that kind of fate, too?

* * *

 _Beth was sitting on the open tailgate of Jimmy's pick-up truck. They had parked in a field out in the boonies, taking countless dirt roads far away from the Greene's farm. The sky was dark and the stars were bright against the blackness, glimmering down on the open, grassy field. Jimmy sat next to her on the tailgate, their legs dangling next to each other as they sat with their thighs pressed together. Beth squeezed his hand, which was clasped tightly in hers, and looked over to meet his eyes in the moonlight. They'd been talking for several minutes, nothing to interrupt them but the chirping of crickets._

"… _I'm not going anywhere," Beth said softly, gripping Jimmy's hand tighter. "They can't control my whole_ _ **life**_ _. I'll be eighteen soon and then we can leave, we can go anywhere we want."_

 _This was a lie. Beth still didn't know for sure when, or_ _ **if**_ _, the cops would leave her family alone. She had no idea when she'd_ _ **ever**_ _be able to leave. Honestly, she didn't have the heart to step away anytime soon, even if her daddy or Maggie were to tell her to move on or go to college. She would feel far too guilty leaving them all behind with the prospect of prison looming over their heads. But she couldn't tell Jimmy that, because he would turn into an inconsolable, raging, sobbing mess, and she'd have to deal with whatever wreckage he caused. So for now, she assured him that they'd just have to wait it out a little longer, and avoided the inevitable fight it would bring._

 _He nodded but he still looked like a sad puppy dog, eyes wide and brimmed with tears. He'd always been somewhat sensitive, but lately, he would get extremely emotional at even the slightest hint that they might break up. She had a bad feeling that his – sometimes violent – mood swings were a side effect of the meth, but she tried to ignore it. She knew that he knew that he was fucking up, and that her family was sick of him and wanted her to leave him, but it didn't scare him enough to actually change anything. He couldn't show his face around the farm anymore, and even now, they had snuck out to be together. Beth knew she was defying both her father's and sister's wishes, but she didn't care. Jimmy was the one thing in her life that she had any sort of choice about, and she wanted to be with him – and he wanted to be with her._ _ **Needed**_ _to be with her. She could see it every time he broke down into tears and begged her to stay. He_ _ **loved**_ _her._

" _Why don't we go_ _ **now**_ _, baby?" Jimmy asked, his voice coming out whiny and child-like._

 _She sighed, becoming exhausted with having to explain this same thing over and over for the last month. "Babe, I can't… I just can't. I'm still a minor, they could report me as kidnapped an' have you arrested… And I have to stick around until the cops stop snoopin' around anyway."_

 _Jimmy groaned, but his voice was still pleading. "What's it matter, babe? Let yer dad deal with it. It's his business anyway. Yer only involved because yer his daughter… And he would never call the cops on me. He knows I'd tell them everything."_

 _Beth's face hardened and she gave him a stern look. "No, you_ _ **wouldn't**_ _. Remember, if they get arrested,_ _ **I**_ _get arrested. I've committed just as much crime as they have – and so have you! I'd never be able to forgive you for puttin' my dad behind bars, are you serious?!"_

 _Jimmy actually looked surprised by this and pulled his hand away from Beth's. "You're an_ _ **adult**_ _, Beth. You can make yer own decisions – you don't need_ _ **Daddy**_ _makin' 'em all for you. Am I dating a twelve-year-old? …You ain't done nothin' wrong, and neither have I. 'Sides, yer dad has a lot more t'lose than I do."_

 _Beth pursed her lips and bit back her anger. "That doesn't matter. None of it matters. I would_ _ **never**_ _forgive you for turnin' in my family."_

 _He rolled his eyes and she felt the anger boiling up hotter inside her. He always did this – belittled her and her feelings, and then made her feel like an idiot for having them in the first place. And of course, he would never admit to any guilt of any kind, not even to her - even though he'd broken just as many laws as anyone else that had worked for her family._

" _Then, what, yer gonna dump me? 'Cause we can't hide it from yer dad forever," Jimmy said. "He's gonna figure it out eventually, if he hasn't already. Or Maggie will. An' then what? …What's it matter if we leave now or next month? We're in love, we wanna be together, yer dad can't stop that._ _ **Nobody**_ _can…"_

 _Beth swallowed back tears as Jimmy reached out and held both her hands in his, staring into her eyes._

"… _I love you, Beth… I love you so much... Please don't leave me… Your family doesn't want you t'be happy, they just want you t'work an-and stay with them forever. "_

 _Her hands were limp in his but she was taking in every word he said and looking back at him with sympathy. He was right, and she loved him for it. As much as he pissed her off, she knew that was normal for most relationships, and it just meant they had passion for each other. They were in love. They were soulmates. Not even her daddy could get in between that. Jimmy was the only one who could truly open her eyes to the way her family treated her, and had_ _ **been**_ _treating her. Especially when he got like this – his eyes staring so deeply into hers, his voice pleading and desperate._

 _She looked away from him and back to the stars, hoping the tears would somehow absorb back into her eyes if she tilted her head back. She took in a deep breath, preparing to confront Jimmy about the one thing that had_ _ **really**_ _been bothering her._

" _I love you, too, Jimmy… but… you need to stop… tweaking. My-my family might be wrong about us, but they're right about what you've been doin'. You have t'stop…" Her voice was weak and soft, and after the words came out, the silence hung in the air, and she held her breath waiting for his response._

" _I_ _ **told**_ _you, I'm quittin'," he said, the anger in his voice gradually escalating as he wasted no time getting defensive. "It doesn't happen overnight. Sorry I'm not_ _ **perfect**_ _like Maggie's fuckin' chink husband, but I'm workin' on it, okay? Maybe if I_ _ **knew**_ _you were gonna leave with me, I'd have a little more incentive t'change shit…"_

" _I told you not to call him that!" Beth cried angrily, yanking her hands free of Jimmy's. "Stop being a racist dick, he's my_ _ **brother-in-law**_ _, and he's not perfect, but he doesn't do fuckin'_ _ **meth**_ _! I - is that_ _ **really**_ _such a ridiculous request? That my boyfriend not be addicted to fucking_ _ **drugs**_ _before I decide to move away and start a_ _ **life**_ _with him?!"_

 _Jimmy scoffed, his voice rising until he was yelling. "I'm not_ _ **addicted to drugs**_ _, yer so fuckin' overdramatic! I have_ _ **nothing**_ _but you, Beth! Don't you fuckin'_ _ **get that**_ _?! You're the_ _ **only**_ _reason I'm still here, and if we don't get the_ _ **fuck**_ _outta this God forsaken town soon, I'm gonna fuckin'_ _ **lose it**_ _!"_

" _Now who's being overdramatic?" Beth snapped, crossing her arms in front of her. "A_ _ **month**_ _, Jimmy – that's it. I'll be eighteen and we can leave. But if my family gets arrested before then, I'm not gonna be – "_

 _Jimmy hopped down from the tailgate and began pacing angrily, his breathing heavy and his face becoming red as he continued to yell. "Yer family isn't gettn' fucking_ _ **ARRESTED**_ _! Why're you so_ _ **worried**_ _about them?! Who gives a fuck? Let's just_ _ **go**_ _– they don't give a shit about you anyway!"_

" _Shut the fuck up!" Beth yelled back, hopping down from the tailgate as well and taking a few steps to further her distance from Jimmy. "They're my fucking_ _ **family**_ _! I'm sorry you an' yer family don't get along, but mine is all I have!"_

 _He marched over to the driver's side of the pickup truck and, before Beth could understand what was happening, he had punched the side of the bed twice, as hard as he could. He grunted in anger, letting out an angry scream right afterwards. Then he turned back to Beth, fists still clenched. She'd known she shouldn't have brought up his family to use against him, but he'd left her no choice._

" _ **I**_ _am all you have!_ _ **ME!**_ _You have ME, Beth! I fucking_ _ **love**_ _you, they don't! We have to fucking leave_ _ **now**_ _or else you'll_ _ **never**_ _leave!" His face was beet red as he screamed at her._

 _Beth's face scrunched up in defiance and she angrily screamed back, "That's not fucking true!"_

 _He charged toward her and she froze in place, unsure of what he was going to do, watching as he reached out and grabbed her arm with one hand. He wrapped his hand around her forearm and squeezed it so tightly that his fingers were touching and her hand started to get tingly after just a few seconds. He yanked her in close to him, nearly causing her to stumble over her own feet, then grabbed her face with the other hand and pulled her in for a long, deep kiss. But his lips were dry and chapped and his mouth tasted horrible. He was kissing her so roughly that she wanted to pull away – but she didn't._

 _When he finally stopped and pulled his lips away, hand still resting on her cheek while the other had loosened its grip on her arm, he stared down into her wide, fearful eyes. She was completely confused by his actions, but she was also so infatuated with him that she was eager to hear what he would say. Her anger from moments before had seemed to dissipate. She knew he only said those things because he loved her so much and wanted to be with her so badly – he didn't actually mean them. He ran his thumb across her cheek softly and when he spoke, she could feel his hot breath on her face._

" _I love you more than anyone else_ _ **ever**_ _could," he whispered, eyes wide and pitiful. "And I'd rather_ _ **die**_ _than not be with you… I'll kill both of us, if I have to. But I won't let_ _ **anyone**_ _keep us apart. Because I love you… I'm sorry. I'm sorry I yelled, baby, I just… get so mad sometimes… But I_ _ **love**_ _you. I love you more than life itself… Please, please, just stay with me, I'll do better…"_

 _She knew she shouldn't let him off that easily, but it was so hard to remember why she was angry when he seemed so vulnerable before her. He knew all the words to say to convince her. She believed him when he said he'd rather die than not be with her – and it almost scared her. But she knew it was out of_ _ **love**_ _. Their entire relationship was passionate, and they'd always loved each other fiercely. That's just how love worked, she knew. And when you love someone, you put them before yourself. And now, he needed her help. So how was she supposed to turn her back on the man she loved? She would just have to prove her father and her sister wrong._

 _After she snuck back into her bedroom that night, she realized that Jimmy's tight grasp on her arm had – once again – left a dark bruise. It went completely around her forearm like a fat, purple-and-red bracelet. She had to wear long sleeves for three weeks to keep it hidden._

* * *

Beth only spent about fifteen more minutes at Carol's before she returned to 3A, slipping out the door before Malachi was expected to wake up from his nap. She had finished another cookie and her glass of sweet tea and thanked Carol graciously for working her magic on Beth's hair. And on her way out the door, Carol had reminded her to do another color application with the hair dye, to which she nodded.

After she crossed the hall back to her and Daryl's apartment and got inside, behind the locked door, she found herself emotionally exhausted from her conversation with Carol. She was a nice woman with obviously good intentions, but Beth hadn't expected anyone to connect with her or relate to her while she was here. And even more, she hadn't expected an interaction that made her think she was receiving a sign from God.

But there it was. And what kind of believer would she be if she ignored God's voice when it was so loud and clear?

She turned off the TV that had been left on in the living room and got herself a glass of water before grabbing her phone and hiding away in her bedroom with the stack of books that sat on her nightstand. There were still a few hours before Daryl and Malachi would be returning home, but she didn't feel like sitting on the couch alone anymore. Instead, she laid in bed and read, her door open just enough to let in the light and noise from the windows of the living room.

About three hours passed when her phone vibrated from where it sat on the nightstand. She slipped her bookmark between the pages of the book in her hand and set it down beside her, then grabbed the phone and unlocked it to check her notifications. It was a new text message. When she checked who it was from, all it said was _Unknown_.

Her heart skipped and she knew it was Jesus reaching out to her because of the ad she'd posted. She opened it and read:

 _5 months. Maybe more. TBD_

That was it. She read it over and over, then searched for a way to reply with more questions, even though there was none. But she knew that even if she _could_ contact Jesus like that, he didn't have the answers that she wanted. He didn't even really _have_ answers. He was basically admitting it himself by saying "to be determined." She didn't know what that meant. Could it be six months? Longer? He _had_ said "maybe more" and not "maybe less." Would she be able to lay low for that long? She deleted the message and set her phone back down, then opened her book again and tried to go back to reading despite the defeated weight on her chest.

Beth's mind kept wandering off to her family, to Jimmy, to Jesus, to Carol and Tara and Rosita and Clem and Enid. She had to keep rereading the same paragraphs over and over because she wasn't comprehending the words as her eyes scanned over them. When the sound of the front door distracted her completely, she realized how much time had passed and how dark the apartment was becoming.

Malachi's tiny feet thumped along the floor as he waddled his way around in excitement, and his voice could be heard soon after. Beth thought about getting up and closing her door to avoid any more conversations for the day, but she didn't want to seem obvious about it and come off as rude. However, neither Daryl or Malachi stopped to speak to her or got near her open door, so she continued reading while listening to them walk around the apartment.

After a few minutes, there was a knock on the front door and Malachi raced down the hall and around the kitchen to answer it. Beth looked up to see a flash of black, presumably Daryl, pass by outside her door, and then heard the front door open followed by Carol's voice soon after. A couple of seconds later, Daryl was standing outside her bedroom door.

"Hey, you busy?" He asked, looking in at her from behind the cracked door.

She slipped the bookmark into her book and set it down, getting up off the bed to walk to the door and open it. "No, what's up?"

Daryl seemed to be looking at her fully for the first time since he'd gotten home, because his eyes widened a little and she saw his gaze move across her new haircut before moving back to meet her eyes. "Carol's here – said ya forgot somethin' at her house."

Beth was confused for a second, then remembered that she'd taken out her earrings and never grabbed them on her way out. "Oh – my earrings? I forgot."

He nodded and she followed him back to the front door, where Carol was standing in the hall, waiting, with Sophia standing a few feet away. Carol's eyes brightened when she saw Beth and she approached, holding out her closed hand. Beth opened her own palm to take back her earrings.

"They were on the kitchen counter," Carol explained as she dropped the jewelry into Beth's waiting palm.

"Yeah, sorry, I forgot to grab 'em," Beth said, smiling as she pulled her hand back.

"No problem – oh, and Mal forgot t'grab this, but he was gonna give it to you," Carol said, pulling out a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handing it to Beth.

Beth unfolded it to find a toddler's crayon drawing, crude and messy and a little cryptic. But once she'd stared at it for a bit, she began to see that it was supposed to be a few stick figures, and one of them was holding a book.

"Aw – he drew this for me?" Beth asked, grinning and looking back up to Carol.

She nodded and smiled, "Yeah, he said you guys read together and I guess he just loved the way you did the voices."

Beth almost had tears in her eyes, glancing back down at the drawing. She heard Daryl's chuckle behind her.

"Wow, he _must_ like you if he wanted t'draw ya," he commented.

"That's what I said," Carol agreed, still smiling, then glanced back at Sophia before adding, "Oh – and I think Rosita and Tara want you t'get a hold of them soon. You still have their number, right?"

Beth was surprised at this – even more surprised than she already was by the drawing – and almost felt overwhelmed. Why were all these strangers being so nice to her? She almost felt like it was some kind of elaborate trick, but her gut reassured her that wasn't likely and that her initial judgement of strangers was just off.

"Um – yeah. But why?" Beth replied, looking at Carol quizzically.

Carol shrugged. "Well, they probably wanna – I dunno, hang out with you, I'd assume. I'm sure they do other things together besides self-defense classes."

Beth nodded, feeling awkward with Daryl standing behind her and Carol's eyes on her. She mumbled, "Okay – thanks."

She saw Sophia on the other side of the hall, shifting her weight impatiently. She waved goodbye to Carol and turned to head back into the apartment, listening as Carol stepped closer to Daryl to tell him something.

"Oh, and I almost forgot t'tell you: Ally said she has time on Thursday night…" she heard Carol saying, even though she had lowered her voice. But that was all she heard before she'd walked back to her bedroom and out of earshot.

She silently wondered who Ally was, but quickly dismissed it as it had nothing to do with her. She put her earrings back in and checked her phone again. She heard the front door close and Daryl's footsteps crossing through the living room and past her bedroom. But they stopped and she turned around to see him standing in front of her open door.

She looked at him, raising her eyebrows expectantly. He scratched his head absent-mindedly and mumbled, "Haircut looks good on ya."

Beth stared blankly at him, caught by surprise and not sure how to respond. She smiled weakly and felt her cheeks warming up. "Thanks."

Daryl nodded and turned away quickly, heading back down the hall toward his bedroom to join Malachi. She waited a moment before leaving her bedroom again to search the kitchen for some tape. When she found it, she took a piece and returned to her room, shutting the door. She stuck the tape to the drawing that Malachi had made for her and hung it on the wall above her bed.

Despite her wariness and paranoia, Beth went to her phone and picked it up to scroll through her contacts list, stopping on Tara's phone number and staring at it for a few moments. She debated ignoring Carol's suggestion, but a part of her was curious to know what it was like to have normal friends in a somewhat normal setting. If nothing else, Daryl's neighbor was probably just trying to get the "poor abuse victim" out of the house for once and into some healthy socialization. Beth knew she was just trying to help, but she kind of resented her for it. On the other hand, she knew it probably _was_ the healthiest thing she could do for herself right now. Being cooped up in the apartment all day and busying herself with nothing but TV, books, and obsessively checking her phone wasn't doing anything beneficial for her mental status.

With a sigh, Beth tapped on Tara's number and selected Create New Text Message. Her fingers hesitated over the screen for a second, and then she typed out:

 _Hey, it's Rosie. Carol said I should text you guys. What's up?_

She hit Send and immediately set her phone back down, praying that the other girl wouldn't try to call her. She hated phone calls.

She went back to reading for the next half-hour, checking her phone every few minutes – but not for a reply from Tara, rather for updates on the news. The conversation with Carol had put her on edge, and the response from Jesus hadn't helped that feeling. She tried to focus her mind on the book, but she kept wondering when the next piece of information would come to light. It was only a matter of time before Rick Grimes either woke up or died, and then things would escalate even more. Not to mention, she was still waiting to hear any news on her family's court case.

A knock came at her door, but it wasn't from Daryl. She could tell by the sound that it was made my smaller hands, and coming from a lower height. She set her book aside and walked to the door to open it, finding Malachi standing before her, just as she'd expected. Daryl was standing nearby, in the kitchen, working on something. He looked over to discreetly watch Beth's interaction with his son.

"Um, hi," Malachi said, looking up at her with his big, blue eyes.

Beth smiled, "Hi! Look – I hung up your drawing!"

She turned and pointed to the wall above her bed and the toddler looked, his eyes lighting up when he saw it. He laughed and clapped his hands happily.

"Wow! I – I'll make you 'nother to – uh, um, 'morrow," he said excitedly.

"You gonna ask her, buddy?" Daryl called from the kitchen, listening in on the conversation from where he stood.

This seemed to jog Malachi's memory because his eyes lit up again and he looked at Beth seriously before asking, "Um, d-do y'wanna have dinner wit' us? And-an' then we can _read_ …?"

Beth blushed a little, spotting Daryl from the corner of her eye as he glanced over and tried to remain discreet while he watched and waited for her answer. She nodded to Malachi.

"Absolutely," she told him. "I would love that."

The small, blond boy grinned and turned to run back to the kitchen and gleefully tell his father, "Dad, she said yeah!"

* * *

Daryl, Beth, and Malachi finished their dinners and settled in to read more chapters of _Harry Potter_. Halfway through, Daryl brought out ice cream for everyone, and Beth had to take breaks in between reading to eat hers. At one point, Daryl took over for almost an entire chapter, but Malachi noticed that Beth wasn't doing anything and requested that she read aloud instead. Daryl laughed but agreed with his son and they listened intently until it was nearly time for bed.

While Daryl took Malachi to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash up for bed, then to the bedroom to change and lie down, Beth put the book away and sat down on the couch to look at her phone for the first time since before dinner. She was surprised to find a text message from Tara and opened it quickly to read:

 _Hey dude! We wanted to invite you to hang out with us tomorrow night at Rosita's. Wanna come?_

Beth replied with a simple, " _Sure, what time? And send me the address_ " before checking the news sites again. She had to admit it felt pretty nice to have people who actually wanted to be in her presence, even if they didn't know much about her. And having a toddler's approval was especially gratifying.

She had planned on returning to her bedroom when they were done reading and hiding out for the rest of the night, but the couch had become much more comfortable than she'd expected and when Daryl returned from putting Malachi to bed, she was still sitting with her legs curled up, reading an article on her phone. She saw him head into the kitchen from the corner of her eye, but didn't pay any attention to what he was doing. When he finally returned and approached her, she looked up to find that he was holding two glasses in his hand, one of them held out for her to take.

"What's this?" She asked, sitting up and setting her phone aside before reaching up and taking the glass carefully. She lifted it to her nose and realized what it was before Daryl answered.

"Nightcap," he said, sitting down on the couch next to her. He had changed into pajama pants and a sleeveless shirt. He raised his glass up as if to toast.

Beth smirked and raised her own glass to carefully meet his, clinking them together gently before they each took their first sip. After Beth had swallowed the bitter liquid, finding it warming as it moved down to her stomach, she said, "Thanks."

Daryl nodded and reached for the TV remote, turning it on and flipping through the channels for a few minutes with the volume lowered. He sipped his drink occasionally, staring at the screen blankly. Beth cradled her own drink in her hands, glancing at Daryl every now and then, when she would move her head to take another drink. They sat in silence as they watched a rerun of _Futurama_ , reaching the second commercial break before Daryl spoke.

"Made the kid's day by puttin' that drawin' on yer wall," he muttered right before raising his glass to his lips again to drain the last drops.

Beth smiled to herself and looked over to Daryl, but he was still staring at the TV with unfocused eyes. "Made _my_ day that he drew it for me. I mean, he captured me really well, I can't help but be flattered."

She saw him smirk before he glanced at her, then showed his empty glass and asked, "Want another?"

She shrugged and handed over her own empty glass, "Sure, thanks."

While he was getting their refills, Beth checked her phone to see that she had another text from Tara. It was the time and address of Rosita's place. She took a moment to check her GPS and see how far she'd have to go and found that Rosita lived in the same area of the city, so it wouldn't be a long trek. She put her phone down just as Daryl was approaching with her glass held out again, which she took gratefully.

"So you gonna have a girls' night or somethin' with Tara an' Rosita?" He asked as he sat back down on the couch and sipped his drink.

"I dunno about girls' night, specifically," Beth chuckled. "But yeah, I guess they wanna hang out tomorrow… So, I s'pose I won't be here when you get home. Might be back after you've gone t'bed."

He shrugged. "You got the spare key. Just be careful."

She furrowed her brow. "With the girls?"

He shook his head with a smile. "No, with gettin' there and back. It'll be dark, it gets sketchy at night."

She almost laughed but stopped herself, remembering that he had no clue that she'd snuck out to take a cab ride to Harlem and meet with a complete stranger from the internet. Instead, she nodded, "I'll be fine. That's what the class is for, right?"

He side-eyed her jokingly. "Might need more than one to get… the _desired_ results."

This time, she did laugh, and he joined her.

"Nah, ain't worried 'bout the girls. I've run with rougher crowds before," he went on. "'Sides, if you could survive Carol's interrogation today, y'should be fine."

Beth snorted. " _Interrogation_? Is that what you call her counseling, or therapy, or whatever it is?"

He shrugged and looked into her eyes, "You wouldn't?"

She rolled her eyes and smiled, "You're the one who got her started on me in the first place."

Daryl raised his eyebrows and waited for her to continue. She returned his look with disbelief.

"What? She interrogated that outta you, too?" Beth asked, half-joking.

He shrugged again and moved to stroking his chin thoughtfully, although it was beginning to look more like a nervous habit as he looked away from Beth's eyes while he spoke. "She… nah, she ain't nosey or nothin'. She was just – askin' about ya. She's a worrier when it comes to me an' Mal. She's the closest thing to a mom he's ever really had, so it's kinda – a little more complicated'n that. She could tell you were hidin' somethin', but I didn't tell her, actually. Mal told her. And then she asked me an'… well, I'm shit at lyin'."

Now Beth looked down to avoid making eye contact with Daryl, because he was checking to see her reaction or response. She muttered, "I wasn't tryin' to _hide_ it. I just – didn't wanna make a fuss. I can be a little… paranoid sometimes, I guess."

He nodded, still avoiding eye contact as he took another sip of his drink before saying, "I wouldn't really call it paranoid… You just know how people can be. I get it."

Beth finally looked directly into Daryl's face again and waited for him to meet her eyes, and when he did, neither of them turned away.

"Yeah," she muttered, seeing the recognition in Daryl's dark blue eyes that said he understood that she was conveying more than just agreement.

His voice was low as he went on, "Carol just… doesn't get that. She thinks it's like demons y'can fight. Like ya just get the strength and the faith from some place deep down and work hard to be better… But it ain't always as easy as that. She's a fixer; she wants t'fix people. She wants t'save 'em from whatever big, bad guy is causing them harm, and teach 'em how to fight back an' be a _survivor_ – but not everybody's a survivor... Some people just ain't made like that."

Beth's mouth was dry and she had a million different words she wanted to say in response, but none of them would form. Instead, she nodded, swallowing hard as she continued to stare back into the depths of Daryl's eyes. He was far more observant than she'd originally given him credit for, and she was scolding herself for having underestimated him.

His hand gripped his glass tightly. "Some people can't – _be_ fixed. They don't wanna be helped, or saved, or _shown the light_. They just wanna be left alone… I don't think she gets that sometimes. Ya try t'help somebody, fix 'em, and they'll just turn around an' break you, too. It ain't worth it."

He ended this statement with a large swig from his glass, breaking eye contact with Beth. She glanced down at her wrist for a second before taking another drink as well.

"How d'you decide if somebody's broken or not…?" She muttered, her voice distant as she was still mulling over Daryl's words. He looked over at her again and blinked, furrowing his brow.

She thought he was going to speak but instead, he took another sip of his drink and sat up straighter, then looked her up and down as though he were making a judgment on her appearance. Then he said, "You know exactly the kinda people I'm talkin' about… You've loved 'em. And what'd they do to ya?"

Beth froze, mouth agape with an unspoken retaliation. Jimmy's face flashed in her mind and she realized that her mask of lies wasn't such a mask after all. She had been putting up a wall made of bricks taken from her own pain, but Daryl could see her standing atop it, plain as day.

"Maybe they didn't break ya, but they sure as hell fucked you up," he finished.

Or perhaps Daryl was relating to her with his own personal experience, saying the things she could only think when she was talking to Carol.

"Maybe," she mumbled, her voice weak as she thought about Jimmy and about what Carol had told her of Daryl's ex earlier. "Or maybe we just… don't understand 'em enough to know how to fix 'em. I can – well, I can see why Carol wants to try t'understand and help."

Daryl scoffed, and his voice was bitter as he said, "Broken people just make damaged people. An' damaged people can only be hurt so much 'fore they're broken, too… It's just a big cycle of _bullshit_."

He looked away from her to take another swig and she watched his face soften. Beth took a small sip of her own drink before clearing her throat and letting out a soft chuckle in an attempt to lighten the tension that had formed around them.

"So, what, you're sayin' I'm one of these – these _damaged_ people?" She asked, a small smirk on her face as if it were a joke.

Daryl looked at her once more, but he didn't return the smile, and she suddenly felt small and naked under his gaze. Then he muttered, almost sadly, "Takes one t'know one."

 **to be continued…**


	18. i'm completely alone at a table of frien

**WARNING: This chapter contains explicit sexual content and rape.**

* * *

 _ **i'm completely alone at a table of friends**_

 _It was August eleventh. They were fighting again. Beth would always remember the exact date but somehow, she could never remember exactly what started it – all their fights seemed to blur together by that point._

 _It would start with a comment from Beth or Jimmy, something passive aggressive and resentful, and the other would get upset and retaliate, and then it would escalate from there until they were yelling and screaming at each other. Eventually, Jimmy would lose control of his anger – which was happening more and more lately – and something would get broken or thrown or smashed or punched. And then they would get closer to each other, and he would grab her arm too tightly and she'd slap his face or give him a hard gut punch, and he would return the favor. He would have scratches down his arms – though, as the fights continued, she couldn't figure out which scratches were from her and which were self-inflicted during one of his meth binges._

 _Yet somehow, even despite all the physical and emotional pain they would cause each other, it always ended the same way: with Jimmy whispering teary-eyed apologies and kissing Beth's hands pleadingly while she half-heartedly pushed him away. Then she would give in and wrap her arms around him and remind herself that he was the only person she had outside of her family, and before she knew it, they'd be tangled up in each other and falling back onto his bed. They'd writhe and squirm against each other, mouths mashed together and hands wandering beneath clothing and slipping between thighs. And she would close her eyes and feel like she was back in a time when life was a little easier and they were madly, deeply in love._

 _There was a spot on her neck that he always knew to kiss and she would melt into a puddle before him. Sometimes she wanted to say no. But he always convinced her and got what he wanted. For the last few months, she had found that being intimate with him was becoming more and more difficult. As his addiction deepened, he was letting things like personal hygiene fall to the wayside. She'd stopped making any sort of comment about it because it always incited his rage. But she was finding herself less and less attracted to him, and more often than not, having sex felt more like a chore than a pleasure._

 _He had stopped worrying about her orgasms months ago, completely abandoning any sort of foreplay that didn't involve her mouth or hand, but she didn't say anything. She told herself they were in a rough patch, and it was something all couples experienced. Besides, she wasn't with him because of the sex, she was with him because she loved him and because she was determined to prove her father and sister wrong about her love for him – and his love for her._

 _During her alone time, when she would find that release she never got from Jimmy anymore, she would still imagine him in her head. Though, admittedly, she was imagining an earlier version of him, when he'd been healthy and drug-free and had tanned skin and always smelled like freshly mown grass and sunlight and aftershave. She had a whole stash of memories in her mind from the nights they'd spent together, when he'd kiss every inch of her body and tell her how beautiful she was and she would come so many times that she lost count._

 _Sometimes, she had to imagine one of those nights while he was on top of her. But it still didn't help her get anywhere near an orgasm._

 _She had never said no, either. She'd thought about it several times, but usually convinced herself to just give in and try to enjoy it as much as possible to get it over with. She knew that turning down sex would just start another fight anyway, because as time passed, Jimmy had become more and more paranoid and was often finding reasons to accuse Beth of cheating, so rejection would be more kindling for the flame that was already constantly lit. She knew she had to assure him that she still loved him, and told herself that he was so insecure lately because of the pressure from her family and his fear of losing her._

 _But then, she knew she had no real reason to say no either. He was her boyfriend and the love of her life, she was_ _ **supposed**_ _to want to have sex with him all the time. She felt guilty for making him wait out the police presence around her family, and she knew it was her fault that they couldn't leave like he wanted to. If it had been up to her, they would've left together months ago. But they were still stuck here, going through the same old routines and arguments while they played an endless waiting game. She felt like the least she could do was sleep with him at least twice a week._

 _This time was different, though._

 _Jimmy was kissing that spot on her neck, whispering breathy "I love you"s into her ear, pressing the hardening bulge in his pants against her thigh. She was breathing heavily and closing her eyes and allowing her body to naturally react the way it always did. She let him slide off her pants and pull off her shirt, and then they undressed separately, hurrying, before pressing their bodies against each other again and kissing passionately. She laid beneath him, his weight barely noticeable atop her, and felt him nudging her inner thighs, urging her to open her legs and allow him entrance._

" _You want this cock, baby?" He whispered into her ear, sending shivers down her whole body._

 _She nodded and writhed against him, kissing him harder._

" _Tell me you want it," he whispered._

 _She broke away from his lips to mumble heatedly, "I want it, baby…"_

 _He gripped her harder, pressing himself against her closed legs with more intent._

 _In between kissing, she paused and whispered against his lips, "Grab a condom."_

 _He sighed, irritated, but she ignored it and watched him pull a condom from the drawer beside his bed and open it before slipping it on over his erection. When he leaned back down and repositioned himself above her, she began kissing him again, spreading her legs to accommodate his slight frame. She felt him enter, hard and throbbing, and she let out a moan. But she was closing her eyes and digging her nails into his back while hoping he would climax quickly._

 _He was thrusting methodically, grunts and groans eliciting from his parted lips. She felt his sharp hip bones jabbing into her, but tried to focus on the sensations inside. He was growing rougher and rougher with each thrust, and her nails were digging deeper into the skin of his back. But she continued to moan and breathe heavily and move in time with his thrusts to welcome him deeper._

 _The familiar tightness that came at the beginning of a long road to climaxing was forming inside her, but she was finding it more and more difficult to enjoy Jimmy's movements as he got more intense and fast-paced. Eventually, she could feel herself struggling to stay completely aroused, and then the sensation between her thighs changed completely._

 _He was still thrusting, grunting, groaning, his hands gripping the bed sheets on either side of Beth's body. But she had begun to squirm beneath him, attempting to adjust her position to find her own pleasure. He pushed himself into her harder, deeper, and suddenly, she realized exactly why the sensation had changed, and why Jimmy was getting more and more into it._

 _The condom had broken._

 _Any sort of sexual fog that had been clouding Beth's mind immediately cleared, and she opened her eyes to look down and attempt to see something between their bodies. But Jimmy was shoving himself completely inside her, unrelenting, and all she could think of was what would happen when he climaxed and didn't even attempt to pull out. Before she knew it, all the intimacy had fled her and she was no longer enjoying having Jimmy on top of her, or inside of her._

 _She pulled her hands off his back and brought them around to his front instead, pressing gently against his chest._

" _Babe, stop – the condom broke," she whispered, hands pressed against the warm skin of his bare, hairless chest. She was trying to ask calmly despite the growing fear she felt._

 _He opened his eyes for a brief second to glance down and see the look of concern on her face, then closed his eyes again and continued thrusting. He simply shook his head and kept up the rhythm he'd been steadily maintaining._

 _Beth pushed a little harder, signaling to him that she was serious and wanted him to stop._

" _It's_ _ **fine**_ _, it feels better," he breathed, eyes still closed while he was thrusting._

 _Now she was becoming aggravated, and she pushed harder against him, but he was still refusing to stop._

" _Jimmy, no, you need t'stop – "_

" _I'm not_ _ **stoppin'**_ _, Beth – I'm almost there…"_

 _She was becoming panicked. She had never tried to stop him mid-session like this, and she was quickly realizing that he wasn't_ _ **going**_ _to stop. "You_ _ **have**_ _t'stop – I'm not on birth control, you have t'pull out, we need a new condom – "_

" _ **Shut**_ _the fuck_ _ **up**_ _and let me finish!" He was aggravated now, and she knew her words would fall on deaf ears._

 _His skin was warm – too warm – against hers. He was sweating on her and he stunk, and she wondered how it had never truly bothered her until now. He was scrawny and barely weighed more than her, yet he was so_ _ **strong**_ _. His body was heavy on hers and even when she tried to push him off of her, tried to push her hands harder and harder against his chest and get out of his grasp, he just used one hand and pushed back to keep her there, almost effortlessly. She felt powerless. Weak._

" _I said_ _ **no**_ _! Stop it!" Her voice cracked. She was trying to summon every ounce of her strength but it just wasn't enough._

 _She felt her chest tighten and the feeling of being trapped helplessly began to envelop her and make her panic. Her breathing quickened until she was almost gasping for breath, struggling against Jimmy's impossible strength, pushing and pushing but still unable to get him off of her. To get him_ _ **out**_ _of her._

 _She pushed against him. He pushed back harder. And kept_ _ **pushing**_ _. Kept_ _ **thrusting**_ _. She tried to shove him. Tried to use every bit of strength she had to just… push. him. away._

 _But he wouldn't_ _ **fucking**_ _budge._

" _Stop – fightin' – what's yer deal?! You_ _ **wanted**_ _this!" He grunted once he realized she was making a very real attempt at interrupting him, but he kept thwarting her attempts to get up, to shove him away. She couldn't even wriggle her hips to slip out because he'd pinned her with his own._

 _His breath stunk worse than his body odor. She no longer knew how she had ever brought herself to kiss him. How she'd ever let him get her into bed and naked. How she'd ever gotten wet with his stench in her nose._

 _How she'd ever let him_ _ **touch**_ _her._

" _I said no!_ _ **Please**_ _– stop – I don't_ _ **want**_ _it anymore, I-I'm sorry, just please – get off. Please," she began pleading, her normally tough demeanor vanishing as she melted underneath him. Her muscles were cramping and her insides burned. She tried to clench her thighs together, to shove him out, but he stopped her every time._

" _Beth – ungh, Beth…!"_

 _He was_ _ **enjoying**_ _this._

 _She hadn't felt the tears form. She hadn't even realized she was crying._

" _Fucking –_ _ **STOP**_ _!" His hand went over her mouth and she didn't know why for a moment, until her screams became muffled and echoed back in her ears._

 _She hadn't realized she'd even been screaming. Nobody was around to hear her, why had she bothered?_

 _He kept thrusting. Kept grunting. She bit his hand, tried to shove him away when he wasn't expecting it. But it was useless. He was getting what he wanted. He was grunting louder, breathing harder, digging his fingers and nails deeper into Beth's skin. Her tears were pouring down the sides of her face and down her ears and into her hair._

 _And then she could feel it happening: he was reaching climax and shoving himself as deep as he possibly could inside her._

 _Her screams stopped but her sobs didn't._

 _And then it was too late._

 _Jimmy was climbing off of her and walking away, angered and disoriented by her screams and tears. The only thought she could remember having right afterwards was that her family had been right… They'd been right the whole time, and she'd been so, so wrong. She was no longer in control of_ _ **anything**_ _, not even the one thing she'd thought she had a choice over._

 _And it was her own. damn. fault._

* * *

Beth jolted awake. She sat upright and opened her eyes, gasping for breath. The space between her thighs burned, like a phantom pain. She could still feel Jimmy's hot breath on her neck and in her ear. Her heart was racing and she felt dizzy and disoriented as soon as her eyes were open. She could feel the bile rising in her throat and the tell-tale salivating that always came before vomiting. Without a second thought, she threw the covers off and jumped out of bed, racing out of the bedroom and into the bathroom next door.

She reached the toilet and lifted the lid just in time for the vomit to expel from her mouth, almost violently. She dropped to her knees on the cold tile and heaved, feeling all the contents of her stomach leaving her body. Her eyes watered and her throat burned, momentarily distracting her from anything else she'd been feeling.

The dream had felt so real that it took her several seconds to wade through the fogginess in her mind and remember where she was and what had happened. Her heart slowed and she calmed down as she realized that it was a bad dream, and it was still very much in the past and over with. The silence in the empty apartment settled over her and she relaxed knowing that she was alone… and safe.

 _It's been… almost a month_ , she thought to herself, counting the days in her head as she hovered over the toilet bowl. _Time to move on._

Beth remembered thinking about Jimmy and her last encounters with him before she'd fallen asleep, most likely due to the content of her conversations with Daryl on the couch. As she wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet, standing up on shaky legs, she silently cursed her brain for making her relive that particular memory so vividly. She knew it was a dream, but no matter how many times she told herself that he was dead now – that he'd paid the _ultimate_ price for everything he'd _ever_ done – it didn't stop the waves of nausea from crashing over her when she thought about that night.

She had been distracted by everything else up until now. In her mind, she had bigger problems to deal with than what had happened on August Eleventh. She'd already spent weeks and days dwelling on that horrible night, thinking about it from every single angle and analyzing every little detail and 'what if.' It was unchangeable and pointless to dwell on. So she'd forced herself to stop thinking about it – convinced herself that she was making a mountain of a molehill.

And then the detectives had shown up, and the Beretta 92 in the hallway drawer had become her closest confidante, and August Eleventh had become like something in the distant past that wasn't even relevant to her anymore. Sometimes, it felt like it had happened to someone else. She couldn't say that she recognized the Beth that had been lying on that bed, letting that sweaty pile of bones and scab-riddled skin have his way with her. But then, she couldn't say that she was anything _close_ to the Beth she'd been before – before she'd seen her own naivety and the severity of her choices.

Before she'd made a vow to herself and to her family that she wouldn't let her life be wasted.

She thought that maybe she'd distanced and detached herself so effectively, it wouldn't hurt her anymore, and she could just forget and move on to be a normal person. Maybe she'd convinced herself to focus on the bigger, more threatening problems that had formed since then. Or maybe she'd merely been preoccupied with running from the police – maybe it had always been a matter of time until she'd have to sit down and face this demon, too.

But it was dealt with. He'd paid the price. They all had. What more could she do? What more _was_ there to do?

After splashing her face with cold water and rinsing her mouth, she waited until she felt steady again to head to the kitchen and get a glass of water. The waves of nausea weren't subsiding, and she'd seen how pale her face looked in the mirror. Once she'd swallowed half a glass of water and refilled it, she dragged herself back to her bed and plopped down. She rolled onto her side and shut her eyes tightly, trying her hardest to clear her mind and relax her body so that it would stop revolting against her. She wasn't even sure why the nausea was still overcoming her, as it had never lasted this long before. But then she thought that maybe it had just built up over time and needed a way to release itself…

Beth drifted back to sleep a few different times for about an hour each time. Her stomach was slowly settling and she took a small sip of water each time her eyes fluttered open. She glanced at the clock and saw that she'd woken up the first time shortly before nine, and now it was past noon. As she lay motionless, thankful that the nausea was receding for the moment, she remembered the plan she'd made to go to Rosita's house that evening. She groaned inwardly and immediately regretted agreeing to such a thing, then rolled over to look at the wall instead of the clock.

She laid in bed for another couple of hours before pulling herself up and heading to the kitchen to put something in her empty stomach. Tara's text had said they'd be gathering around five, so she still had plenty of time to get ready and find her way there. She didn't find coffee to sound appealing today, so she went for some ginger ale instead and made herself a couple of pieces of toast and scrambled an egg.

She ate slowly and it seemed to go down and settle without any complications. Once she was finished, she found herself feeling better and more clear-headed. She headed to the bathroom and ran a warm, bubbly bath for herself.

After an hour of lying in the warm water, relaxing, and washing her hair, she got out and dried off then got dressed. She brushed her teeth and checked herself in the mirror – the color had come back to her cheeks. She sighed and silently prayed that her mind would stop stressing her out like that. She began to think back on what Carol had told her and how much of it could actually be right. Maybe spending time around other people would help ease her nerves and make her feel somewhat like she belonged somewhere again. Or maybe it would just depress her more. At the moment, she was willing to make that dice roll.

She returned to her bedroom and laid back down for another hour or so, avoiding looking at her phone or worrying about any more bad news, before she decided to start getting ready and making her way to Rosita's. She put on a clean outfit, then gathered up all her things to place them back into the bag from under her bed. She gave the pocket watch a sentimental squeeze before dropping it in with the wads of cash, then placed the photo safely inside as well. She pulled the Beretta gingerly from beneath the pillow and holstered it inside the undershirt – it felt heavy and foreign to her today, and she changed from a blue shirt to a black shirt just because she was self-conscious that it was noticeable through the fabric. Then she hesitated at the nightstand drawer, opening it and pulling out the small statue souvenir that Irma had gotten her in Washington, D.C. She placed the souvenir inside the bag as well, then zipped it up and latched it before throwing it over her shoulders. The money seemed to make the bag feel heavier than usual on her back.

She decided against putting in the contacts and left them lying in the nightstand drawer. The jig was up with Daryl and Carol and if she continued wearing them around the other girls, it would just seem odd. Beth tried to assure herself that if she came into contact with anyone who gave her an odd vibe or seemed suspicious of her, she could always turn tail and leave.

As she closed her bedroom door and prepared to leave the apartment, she debated for a moment on leaving the bag behind. She figured she could stuff it inside a dresser drawer and no one would bother it, not even Malachi. But then she quickly decided against it. She knew it would put her on edge not to have the bag that practically held her entire life inside it on her person in this huge city. Even though having it on her person in such a large city also put her on edge. Keeping it with her was part of the "you can leave whenever you want" security blanket that gave her the courage to leave the apartment at all.

She was about to head for the door when she had a second thought and stopped, glancing down the hallway to the open bedroom door at the end. She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the bar and scrawled onto it:

 _202-620-0322  
Rosie_

She slipped the small note underneath a magnet on the door of the freezer, in a spot where Daryl couldn't miss it. Or he could. She didn't necessarily _need_ him to have her number tonight, but she figured it was a courtesy since he'd left her his number so many days ago – even though she hadn't used it.

Finally satisfied, she left the apartment. The spare key was stuffed snugly inside the pocket of her jeans, her phone in the other pocket, and she had locked the door and double-checked it before heading out. When she passed through the lobby, she noticed there was no one behind the desk again, and she wondered where Clem was. Then she wondered if she should expect to see her at Rosita's. Tara hadn't, after all, specified who would be attending other than the obvious guests. But then again, Beth hadn't asked either.

The weather outside was warm and clear, and Beth had brought along a light jacket but kept it tucked under her arm. The air was already beginning to cool down but the humidity was still present. She put on her sunglasses despite the low clouds that hung in the sky. She had decided to walk since it was a fairly short distance to Rosita's place – GPS estimated a thirty minute walk if she moved like an old woman – and she wouldn't be travelling outside the East Village. Plus, she wanted to familiarize herself with the surrounding areas. The fresh air and partial sunlight on her skin was nice, too.

Beth walked down street after street, passing rows of houses, apartment buildings, businesses, and a couple of parks. Most of the neighborhoods looked pretty similar to the one Daryl lived in, although there was quite a range of different scenery in between. She looked around at everything, trying to remember landmarks and details. She checked her phone every few minutes to make sure she was going the right way and to figure out which turns to make. She passed several people on the sidewalks, and the streets were growing busier and busier with rush hour traffic. But she kept her head down and her sunglasses on as she gazed at buildings and trees instead of the people and cars. Before she knew it, she was approaching the street that Rosita lived on.

Her pace slowed and she pulled out her phone as she walked closer to the building that she thought was Rosita's. She was still unsure because she couldn't see an exact address, though. She sent a text to Tara, simply saying, " _I think I'm outside ?"_

Beth pressed Send and then waited. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other nervously, gazing around at the handful of people passing by on the sidewalks and the noisy cars in the street. The building she was standing in front of looked like just another variation of the dozens and dozens of apartment buildings she'd passed on her way there.

Within minutes, the front entrance of the building opened up and Tara stepped out, looking around for a second before spotting Beth and smiling. Beth approached and Tara held out her fist for a bump in greeting. Beth obliged and gently bumped her knuckles against the other girl's.

"Hey, you found it," Tara said, bright green sunglasses resting atop her head. "Did you walk?"

Beth nodded. "Yeah, it wasn't that far."

Tara grinned. "You're already travelling like a New Yorker. Nice!"

Beth smiled sheepishly and followed the other girl inside the building. They passed through a lobby that was a bit larger and nicer than the one in Daryl's apartment building, and then they stepped onto an elevator that took them up to the top floor.

"So, is this like – a party?" Beth asked as they stood and waited patiently to reach their stop.

Tara furrowed her brow and glanced over at Beth. "Carol didn't tell you?"

Beth shook her head.

Tara smirked, though, and happily explained, "It's Rosita's birthday!"

Beth was a bit taken aback – she had anticipated a small get-together with a few new acquaintances, not something as major as a birthday party. She was surprised they'd gone out of their way to invite her considering they barely _knew_ her. And had Carol forgotten to mention that it was a birthday celebration, or had she left that detail out because she knew it would scare "Rosie" off? But she didn't have time to mull that over, because they were entering Rosita's apartment – all plush, cream-colored carpet and soft, cushy, black furniture.

To her pleasant surprise, the "party" wasn't what Beth had pictured and dreaded. The apartment was small and there were no decorations. There was, however, a small assortment of snacks set out on the dining table, which was centered inside the kitchen to the left of the front door. And directly in front of the door, there was a large, open space in the living room which was currently occupied by a fold-up card table that had six chairs situated around it. A large TV sat atop a heavy TV stand in the corner, but it was turned off and a Bluetooth speaker was sitting in front of it, playing rock music at a low volume.

Beth stepped further into the apartment, closing the door behind her and following Tara into the kitchen. She realized all the guests were huddled around the fridge, passing around drinks and plastic Solo cups. Rosita was there, standing very close to a tall, white guy with short, blond hair who was telling her quiet things that made her laugh. And a few feet from them was Enid, then Clem, and then Tara, who was approaching and helping herself to a bottle that Clem had been moving aside.

Beth glanced around the apartment, spotting a few closed doors and a short hallway on the other side of the living room, but there were no other people present. She remembered that Rosita had mentioned roommates but it looked like they were out for the night. It appeared that this birthday party actually _was_ a small get-together, with a maximum occupancy of six.

"Rosie's here!" Tara announced to the group as she poured herself a cup of whatever was in the bottle she'd grabbed.

Beth slid her sunglasses up to rest atop her head and stood awkwardly at the edge of the kitchen, watching as everyone turned their attention to her for a few seconds. The girls all looked different from how Beth had seen them at the self-defense class: they were all dressed in jeans and cute dresses instead of leggings and tennis shoes, with flat-ironed or curled hair, and mascara, eyeliner, and blush on their faces. They all gave her smiles or waves, and Rosita was the first to walk over to her, pulling the blond guy along by his hand. She looked the happiest Beth had seen her yet.

"Rosie, thanks for coming! Oh, and Carol fixed your hair – it looks great!" Rosita greeted her happily.

"Oh, yeah – thank you," Beth said with a smile.

Rosita beamed and turned her attention to the tall guy. "This is Austin – Austin, this is Rosie. She just joined the class."

Austin smiled politely and nodded towards Beth, "Nice to meet you."

Beth smiled back, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. "You, too."

For a brief moment, she wondered if he could be a cop.

She turned back to Rosita and said, "Happy birthday, by the way! Um – no one told me until I got here or else I would've brought you somethin' – "

Rosita waved a hand dismissively and chuckled. "Thank you, but that's _why_ we didn't tell you – we kinda figured you didn't know us well enough yet and you'd wanna be polite and bring a gift. But really, it's twenty-eight, who cares about that? I only did _this_ much because Tara wanted an excuse to drink on a Wednesday night – "

"Rosie, d'you want a drink?!" Tara called from her spot next to the fridge, as if on cue.

"No, thank you," Beth called back. "Um – well, water."

"C'mon, it's a party," Rosita said playfully.

Beth shook her head. "I'm okay – I haven't really eaten much – "

Rosita's eyes lit up. "Oh! Clem's mom made cupcakes, and Enid brought homemade guacamole. Want some?"

Beth shrugged and smiled. "Sure."

"Oh, and you can put your stuff over here with everyone else's," Rosita instructed, pointing to a nearby living chair that held a couple of purses and a sweater.

Beth set her jacket, glasses, and backpack on the chair, trying to discreetly cover the bag with her jacket. Then she followed Rosita to the spread of food that was laid out on the table. Beth took a small portion of several different snacks, listening and laughing as Rosita made small jokes about the other girls' cooking skills. Enid and Clem wandered over to help themselves to more chips and guacamole and greeted Beth with smiles. Austin and Rosita soon became distracted by their own private conversation and drifted back into the kitchen.

With plates of food in hand, Beth trailed behind Clem and Enid to the kitchen, as well. She stood near a counter by herself, slowly nibbling on chips as the other girls talked and laughed. It appeared that Tara was the only one who was really drinking alcohol, because Rosita had seemed to abandon her plastic cup on the counter while Enid and Clem were sipping sodas. Beth was a bit surprised to see Clem here, and she had given Beth a genuine smile and didn't seem to be side-eyeing her tonight, although she was sticking pretty close to Enid. The two teenagers looked to be having their own private conversations and jokes in between their chit-chat with the others.

Beth stood alone, silently eating her snacks while she listened and occasionally participated in the others' conversations. But she was also zoning out here and there, drifting off into her own nagging thoughts. From what she learned after a few minutes, she understood that Carol wasn't attending for obvious reasons (Sophia), and Tara's girlfriend, Denise, would be coming by after she got off work – which was still a couple of hours away, and she'd most likely end up being Tara's designated driver. One of the girls mentioned Daryl's name, but Beth hadn't been paying close enough attention to see who it had been.

Then the girls turned their attention to Beth, and she felt her face turning pink as Enid attempted to make her a part of the conversation.

"Has Daryl said anything about Ally to _you_?" Enid asked, and Beth tried to remember exactly what they'd been saying to prompt this question.

"Who?" She asked, clueless.

Tara laughed. "Guess not."

Beth was paying closer attention now as the girls turned to each other and continued discussing their little bits of gossip. She quickly realized they were discussing the woman she had overheard Carol mentioning to Daryl.

"I don't think they've met," Rosita said. "Carol talked like it was a blind date, but I didn't ask how she knew her. "

"Well, I met her, she's friends with Carol and I think she had Carol watch her kid one day," Clem said.

"Oh, she's a single parent, too?" Rosita commented. "Maybe that'll be a good thing."

"Depends on the kid," Tara quipped. "Did you happen to meet the kid, too?"

Clem chuckled, "No. I think she has a son, too, but a little older. I dunno. She seemed pretty nice."

Enid shrugged. "Well, Carol knows him better than any of us, and she's the one matchmaking. When has she ever really been wrong?"

Rosita nodded. "That's true."

Tara clicked her tongue. "Yeah, dammit – the woman _does_ know her shit."

Clem interjected, "Okay, but Rosie _lives_ with him – "

They turned to Beth once again and she raised her eyebrows, giving them all a wide-eyed look. Then she smiled, actually finding it funny.

"You think we _talk_ just because we _live_ together?" She said, which made all the other girls laugh, including Clem.

"I didn't even learn the guy's last name until like, a month ago," Tara laughed, sipping whatever was in her plastic cup.

"Yeah, what – _is_ his last name, anyway?" Beth asked, posing it as a joke while also seeking an actual answer. She didn't _really_ care… but a small part of her did. She told herself it was merely curiosity.

Tara laughed louder and Rosita chuckled, then answered, "It's Dixon – if you couldn't already tell he's from the south."

"Yeah, well we can all tell you're from Texas after you've had a few drinks," Enid joked.

Rosita blushed and glanced to Austin, who was listening and laughing with his arm around her.

The girls continued like this for a while, sharing jokes and poking fun at each other while they laughed between drinks and snacks. Beth mostly listened, grateful that Austin was there to make her seem less out-of-place for being so quiet.

They stood in the kitchen and talked for well over an hour before Tara insisted that Rosita take at least _one_ birthday shot, which turned into three shots, and then she was making mixed drinks and handing them out. Beth refused once again, as did Clem, while Austin, Rosita, and even Enid accepted, although cautiously. Beth saw the way Enid winced after taking a small sip from her cup, and she barely touched it after that. Then Rosita suggested they gather around the table she'd set up to play a game of Cards Against Humanity.

"Do you have the expansions?" Clem asked as they all walked over to the table and took seats.

" _All_ of them," Rosita answered with a grin, pulling out the large box that held the card game and setting it in the middle of the table.

"Yes!" Tara exclaimed, well past tipsy by this point and easily excited about most things.

The card game proved to be the perfect icebreaker for any remaining tension between Beth – or _Rosie_ – and her new friends. It was easy for this particular card game to get controversial and dark, and for a while, Beth treaded lightly. She kept her comments to herself and chose to observe and listen instead.

But then, as the game went on and Rosita and Tara ingested a few more drinks, the group grew more comfortable together. Before long, the small party had turned into a group of close friends giving each other a hard time and cracking jokes until they were all crying with laughter. Beth started letting down her wall and opening up a bit more, adding her own small quips when she saw an opening. Tara seemed surprised but delighted, and not long after, Austin seemed to follow her lead and begin talking more. He ended up making Rosita laugh so hard, she nearly spit her drink out her nose.

Beth found herself laughing and thinking of nothing else except how happy and carefree she was in the moment.

The sky darkened outside and the sun slowly sunk behind the horizon. Tara paused the game to answer a phone call and then announce to the party that Denise was on her way. Rosita took the opportunity to jump from her seat and head to her bedroom to grab something, and while Austin and the other girls talked amongst each other or checked their phones, Beth slipped away to the bathroom.

After she relieved herself and washed her hands, the silence in the small bathroom a startling difference to the noise she'd been surrounded by for the last few hours, she remembered her own phone and all the problems she hadn't bothered to worry about since she'd woken up. The nausea had kept itself at bay and she'd found Enid's guacamole to be delicious and filling, but the dread grew inside her as she pulled out her phone and rested her lower back against the edge of the counter to stare down at the screen.

She checked for notifications and found a new text message that she'd received around 6:30. She looked at the number and found it familiar, but couldn't remember why. Then, she read the message:

 _If you need a ride home, let me know. –D_

It instantly clicked in her mind that the number was the same one she'd read on the note Daryl had left for her days ago. She had never bothered to save his number, but now she clicked Add To Contacts and created a spot for Daryl. When she scrolled to the line for a last name, she typed in: _Dixon_. It surprised her that he had sent her a text, as she hadn't expected him to even notice the small note she'd left on the fridge.

But somehow, it eased the dread inside her for just a few moments when she read the text.

She moved on to checking the news sites, starting with the national news. She could hear Tara's loud, drunken voice from the living room, and Clem and Enid's quieter voices as well as a mixture of laughter from everyone.

She scrolled through the headlines and let out a breath of relief when she saw no mention of her family or herself. Then she moved to the Georgia news site. She read the second largest headline on the news' website, " _Greene Family's Arraignments Set; Drug Lord Pleads Guilty; Daughter Still Missing And Dangerous._ "

The sounds outside the bathroom seemed to drift away and all she could see were the paragraphs of black text about her family's fate. Her hands were shaking so hard that she had to attempt to hold the phone steady with both of them as she read:

 _ **ATLANTA (5:48 PM**_ _): In a shocking update on the Greene Family drug bust, police are finally releasing information on the court proceedings of the complex case. With dozens of employees disguised as members of the congregation and farmhands, the District Attorney has their hands full as they attempt to prosecute each suspect accordingly._

 _The Greene Family's farm and church are still closed off to the public and under investigation as detectives continue their tireless efforts to piece together the puzzle left behind by Hershel Greene and his daughter, Maggie, and son-in-law, Glenn. Meanwhile, the youngest daughter, Beth Greene, is wanted by police for the murder of Detective Shane Walsh on the night of August 26_ _th_ _._

 _Although there have been thousands of tips reported, none have led officials any closer to locating the 18-year-old Greene. The public is warned to stay on the alert for Beth Greene, who is thought to be armed and dangerous._

 _Since their arrests on the night of August 26_ _th_ _, Hershel Greene, Maggie Greene-Rhee, Glenn Rhee, Arnold Greene, Otis Williams, and Patricia Williams have been sitting in police custody, awaiting their first appearances before a judge and answering the many questions police had. After days of interrogation, officials came to the conclusion that none of them had any knowledge as to the whereabouts of Beth Greene, but they were all fit for prosecution._

 _The dozens of employees who worked for Hershel Greene have faced similar treatment, though they are expecting lesser charges based on their levels of involvement in the Greene's mass production and distribution of meth. The District Attorney turned down WSAV when they were contacted for comments on the abnormally large amount of suspects being prosecuted on the same case._

 _On Tuesday, August 29_ _th_ _, the Greene Family each had their own separate first appearances in Superior Court before a judge. The lesser involved employees and members of the congregation were given first appearances throughout the week. Officials have refused to release details, but signs show that most, if not all, of the suspects were found credible and were offered differing plea deals based on the information and evidence they could provide to detectives and how useful it would be in prosecuting the Greene Family._

 _Interestingly enough, Hershel Greene, the alleged head of the criminal organization, had his preliminary hearing on Tuesday, September 5_ _th_ _, where he officially pled guilty and waived his right to have counsel. No doubt taking his old age into consideration, the D.A. agreed to order a fast track sentencing. The exact date for the patriarch Greene's sentencing has not been released._

 _Some of the charges the family is facing include aggravated meth trafficking, unlawful possession of firearms, fleeing police, racketeering and conspiracy to commit, assault on a police officer, attempted murder of a police officer, possession of drug paraphernalia, manufacturing, distribution, and possession of a Schedule II drug with intent to distribute (resulting in death or serious bodily harm), employing or using a person(s) under the age of 18 in a drug operation, as well as multiple charges involving a Continued Criminal Enterprise – all felonies._

 _According to Georgia's law, Hershel Greene could be facing multiple life sentences._

 _Maggie Greene-Rhee and her husband, Glenn Rhee, have chosen to employ the use of one of the few assets they have remaining: the family lawyer. The young couple also had preliminary hearings on September 5_ _th_ _and are expected to enter pleas of not guilty. Anonymous sources close to the case have revealed exclusively to WSAV that they believe the Greene children will attempt to claim coercion as their defense, considering the level of influence Hershel Greene held over them, as well as their particularly young ages and high levels of involvement. Some officials close to the case believe they may be looking to consult social workers and child psychologists before taking the prosecution any further._

 _The case isn't expected to see a court room, or a jury, for several months while the D.A. builds their case and police continue their search for Beth Greene._

 _All of the suspects in the Greene Family case who have already had first appearances are scheduled for arraignments on September 12_ _th_ _. Bail has not been set for any of the suspects due to flight risk and the mysterious circumstances surrounding Beth Greene's disappearance. When asked about the death of James Cline and his involvement with the outcome of the trial, officials refused to comment._

 _Stay tuned. WSAV will continue to update this story as the case moves forward. If you have any information on the whereabouts of Beth Greene, call the number listed below._

Beth read the article over and over and over. She wasn't sure if she'd fully comprehended the part about her daddy – he _waived_ his "right to counsel"? She blinked and shook her head, but she knew it was true. If he'd been prepared for his punishment the night he was arrested, then he probably didn't want to even fight. What was the point of an attorney when your charges were already a death sentence?

The long list of charges made her stomach churn and she had to set the phone down before she could even think about navigating to another news site to read the same horrible words. With her hands still shaking, she clicked over to the Atlanta local news and hesitantly skimmed through a very similar article with a very similar headline, finding all the same information – except for any mention of Jimmy. This news station didn't seem nearly as concerned with Jimmy's involvement or his death.

She decided she'd take the small blessings where she could find them.

She breathed a sigh of relief and reminded herself that there was still no mention of her or her family in the national news. She had been caught off-guard by this update on the court proceedings, but she couldn't say that she hadn't been expecting to hear about it eventually. The thing that had shocked her the most was finding out that her daddy had pretty much thrown his hands up and set his life down before the courts to do whatever they pleased with.

She knew that was what he wanted, though. He was a God-fearing man, and no matter what sort of moral lines he might've crossed, he would always bow his head and take his punishment in silence, because he knew that he deserved to atone for his crimes… But where did that leave Maggie and Beth?

Beth stepped away from the phone and tried to focus on her breathing, calming her racing heart and slowing her mind. She could still hear the girls talking and laughing outside, and all she'd wanted for the night was to sit in a room with other girls and just be _normal_ for a few hours. She was determined to do just that.

She had run so far away for a reason, after all.

A knock on the bathroom door startled her from her thoughts and breathing exercises. Before she could respond, Rosita's voice was coming from the other side, and the doorknob was jiggling.

"Hey – you okay in there? I'm comin' in – unlock the door, I promise I won't look!"

Beth reached over and unlocked the door, then stepped away to make room for Rosita to enter the bathroom. Beth grabbed her phone and stuffed it back into her pocket before Rosita turned toward the counter, and she saw that the older brunette was holding something in her hand. She stumbled a bit as she entered the small bathroom – it was barely wide enough for the two of them to be inside at once, with the tub, toilet, and counter all squashed together in a small, square space to leave very little walking space between. Now that Beth was in a small space with her, she realized that she smelled like whatever fruity alcohol she'd been drinking.

"Sorry, I was about to come out – " Beth started.

But Rosita shook her head and stopped her, "No, it's cool – I just wanted to smoke from my pen for a minute and I didn't want the whole apartment to smell. And Tara can't smoke, so I don't wanna tempt her."

Then she put the thing she'd been holding in her hand – which looked like an E-cigarette – to her mouth and inhaled before pulling it away and pausing for a second, then exhaling a small cloud of smoke. Seconds later, the familiar smell hit Beth's nose, and she realized it was a vape pen for marijuana.

"Oh – I didn't know you did that," Beth said. But the smell wasn't reminding her of Jimmy or the farm this time as much as it was reminding her of Daryl.

Rosita shrugged, taking another hit before saying, "Not often, but I got one of these cool little pens a-a-and it's my _birthday_!"

She grinned and took a long, deep hit to end her statement. Beth smiled, and Rosita glanced over before an expression of realization crossed her face.

"Wanna hit?" She asked, holding out the pen in offering.

Beth looked down at it, about to say "no," but stopping herself. She thought of her daddy in prison, of Maggie in a courtroom, of Glenn sitting in an interrogation room, of Patricia and Otis sitting behind bars, of Jimmy hanging from a rope inside a jail cell.

And very last, she thought of the vivid dream she'd had that morning.

"Sure," she said, and took the pen from Rosita's hand.

* * *

 _It was August twenty-third – Beth's birthday. She was finally eighteen, a legal adult, and Maggie and their daddy had planned a small birthday party for her. But tensions were running high amongst the farm as the police presence grew heavier and heavier with each passing day._

 _Beth had woken up to her favorite breakfast cooked especially for her by Maggie. She'd also woken up to a heated argument between her daddy and Maggie that she'd walked in on, though the only thing she'd heard was that they'd already seen five different cop cars drive by since five a.m. When she asked what they'd been talking about and tried to get details, though, Maggie and Hershel avoided the question and changed the subject._

 _But Beth could see through their fake smiles and pretend excitement; she could hear the underlying worry in her daddy's voice when he said, "Happy birthday, sweetheart," and kissed her on the forehead, lingering longer than usual; she saw the pointed glances her sister kept making to Glenn, who was helping set up breakfast in ominous silence. She could feel the dread that hung over the entire house._

 _She was determined to have a good birthday, considering the year had been mostly shit, but found it to be more difficult than she'd anticipated. She had prayed to God the night before – just like she did every night – to keep her family safe and give them peace. But it seemed He was biding His time in responding._

 _She could only tell herself that things would get worse before they'd get better. It was always darkest just before sunrise, she tried to remember._

 _But it was hard to stay optimistic when she was also waking up to repetitive texts and missed calls from Jimmy. He'd been relentless in the last two weeks, and she'd been putting off what she knew had to be done. They'd talked a few times since August Eleventh, but she had come up with handfuls of excuses to push him off, and she couldn't bring herself to sneak out and see him face-to-face. He'd cried to her over the phone, and every conversation they'd had dissolved into an endless argument, despite his efforts to confess his undying love and remind her that they were soulmates. He continuously told her he was bettering himself, trying harder, looking into rehab and changing his life around to be "the man she deserved."_

 _But she could always tell when he was high, and he hadn't been sober for even_ _ **one**_ _of their conversations. He just kept repeating the same empty promises over and over._

 _She was feeling more and more lonely and isolated. She spent breakfast alternating between awkward small talk and silence with her daddy, Maggie, and Glenn. They put on smiles and wished her happy birthday, and even cleaned up her dishes when she was done. But she could see the unspoken words passing anxiously between them, and knew they were expecting something._

 _She helped with some chores around the farm, despite her daddy assuring her that she could do whatever she wanted for the day. She wanted to keep her mind busy and away from Jimmy, and without a journal to confide in, she didn't have many other options. But that only proved to work for a few hours before lunchtime arrived and she headed to join her family in the kitchen once again._

 _They were talking in hushed voices when she approached the doorway, and when she realized that one of the voices was her cousin, Arnold, she hung back so they wouldn't see her in the hall. She recognized Maggie's and Glenn's voices, as well._

" – _they're getting a warrant."_

" _A warrant? For_ _ **what**_ _? They don't_ _ **have**_ _anything – "_

" _They're looking, though – and they might have somethin' we don't know about – "_

" _That's impossible. Dad's been workin' day an' night to make sure_ _ **every**_ _loose end is tied up, there's no way – "_

" _You know they can find a way, you know we can't underestimate 'em – "_

" _Fine, but we can fuck it up by_ _ **over**_ _estimatin', too, and givin' 'em exactly what they need without even – "_

 _Then Beth recognized her daddy's stern voice, which silenced all the others._

" _ **Hush**_ _. No more talk of this in the kitchen. It's Beth's birthday – we'll talk later in the study. For now, we're going to have a nice, family meal and make this a_ _ **special**_ _day for her... Eighteen is a milestone."_

 _But Maggie commented, her voice low, "Yeah, a milestone alright – now she's old enough t'be prosecuted..."_

 _Beth turned around, unnoticed by her family, and walked away from the kitchen, going straight upstairs to her bedroom and locking herself inside._

 _When Maggie came by a short time later, she lied and said she had a migraine and wanted to lie down for a while. No one else knocked on her door until it was nearly time for her party to start._

 _She had texted Jimmy back but refused to call him on the phone. They'd exchanged messages for at least a couple of hours before Beth found herself breaking down and giving in to his pleas and arguments. The hopeless energy permeating the farmhouse was weighing her down, and she allowed him to convince her to hear him out._

 _If nothing else, she figured that she at least owed him a break up in person. They_ _ **had**_ _been together for over a year, after all._

 _By the end of the afternoon, she'd agreed – against her better judgment – to meet up with him the next evening. He promised to show up sober, but she didn't have her hopes very high. In fact, she was anticipating a conversation in which she'd tell him exactly how and why he was wrong for what he did to her and that he needed to get help, and then she would end their relationship indefinitely. She had no idea how he'd react, but she knew it wouldn't be good. She also knew she'd have to be prepared to leave quickly before he lashed out… or to defend herself._

 _When it came time for her birthday party – which was really just a small family gathering – Beth emerged from her bedroom to meet her daddy in the hall, where he kissed her on the forehead and led her downstairs. In the kitchen, they had turned off the lights while Maggie stood at the table with a cake, waiting for Beth. The eighteen lit candles atop the cake were the only light in the room, and Beth approached it carefully while Hershel, Glenn, Arnold, Patricia, Otis, and a couple of other close family friends from the congregation stood aside and watched while singing "Happy Birthday."_

 _She closed her eyes and blew out the candles, silently wishing for the "family business" to finally come to an end – just like she'd wished the year before._

 _Everyone in the room clapped and finished the song, and Beth thought she caught a glimpse of a genuine smile on her big sister's face when she opened her eyes and looked up at her._

 _After they turned the lights back on and served out pieces of cake to everyone, Maggie presented her little sister with her birthday gift: a brand new guitar. Beth felt nothing else but happy for a few solid minutes while she held the instrument in her hands. However, it didn't take long for her to remember that her momma still wasn't there to listen to her play, and then the happiness quickly faded._

 _Her daddy gave a small speech as he stood before the group, most of them working on their pieces of cake. Beth's fingers fidgeted with the strings of her new guitar, itching to take it upstairs and play it. But they slowed as she listened to her father talk, his blue eyes set on her._

" _Beth, you came into this world at exactly ten-fifty-eight on this night, eighteen years ago... I remember the delivery room, I remember how your mother looked, an' I remember how I felt when I first looked at you – I remember because I'm reminded every day… You have so much of your momma in you, and every day, I feel that same swell of pride and joy and_ _ **love**_ _when I look at you... You're an adult now, but… you'll_ _ **always**_ _be my baby girl."_

 _He stepped closer and she smiled. Small pools formed in the corners of his eyes as he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead again, then put his arm around her shoulders._

" _And if your momma were here right now, she'd tell you all the same things. I love you, Bethy. Happy birthday," he finished._

 _Maggie walked closer and leaned in to give her sister a small hug, whispering, "Happy birthday, Beth… I love you."_

 _After the party, Beth retreated to her bedroom and played her new guitar for a while. Once she was sure that most of the guests had gone home, she quietly snuck out into the hall and tiptoed to the door of her father's study._

 _She could hear muffled voices coming from inside, growing louder and more heated every minute. She hesitated in the hall, but then leaned closer and closer, straining her ears. Then she was pressing one ear against the door, trying desperately to make out what was being said inside the study._

 _But she couldn't interpret anything – even though she'd been able to eavesdrop outside of every other door in the old farmhouse. For all she knew, her daddy could have put something inside or against the walls and door of the study to muffle all the sounds from inside. Either way, all she could hear was Hershel's, Maggie's, Glenn's, and Arnold's voices arguing with each other. The words, however, were anyone's guess._

 _By the end of the night, she'd decided that she was probably better off not knowing what they were talking about anyway. Beth told herself that she didn't need any more bad news on her birthday. Maggie would've said it made for one less testimony in court._

* * *

Beth only took a few hits from Rosita's vape pen, but she could tell the difference not long after. They sat in the bathroom, in silence, and passed the pen back and forth. Rosita seemed restless and sat atop the counter, watching Beth as though she wasn't sure what to talk to her about – or what to talk to her about _first_.

When she passed the pen to Beth a fourth time and Beth took it, Rosita finally asked, "So are you gonna stay?"

Beth was confused, noticing the slight slur to Rosita's words and wondering just how drunk she actually was. She gave Rosita a quizzical look. "Uh – what?"

Rosita raised her eyebrows as though Beth should know exactly what she was talking about. "Are you gonna stay? Here, in the city?"

Beth blinked, holding the pen in her hand and continuing to look confused. "Well… what d'you mean?"

Rosita rolled her eyes as though she were tired of Beth playing dumb and explained, "Carol told me about your ex – why you came here. And why you suddenly have different colored eyes. Don't worry – your cover's safe with us. I'm just wondering if you plan on stickin' around."

Beth felt the blood rushing to her face and she looked away. "Oh – yeah. Um, I guess so." She took a longer, deeper hit from the pen, letting the smoke settle in her lungs before she let her breath out.

Rosita shrugged, reaching out and taking the pen for her turn. "Well, I know Carol can be kinda intimidating, but I promise – we really do like you. So… you don't have to leave if you don't want to."

Beth looked up and met Rosita's eyes again. She knew this was the kind of drunken honesty that you couldn't fake. But she still felt wary, and she'd probably never be able to explain why.

"Thanks," she gave Rosita a small smile and Rosita returned it.

"I had a dickhead ex, too," Rosita said as she rolled the pen between her fingers absent-mindedly.

"Yeah, Carol mentioned somethin' like that," Beth said quietly.

Rosita didn't seem bothered by this, because she went on to explain, "He put me in the hospital and my stupid ass went back to him. He did it again and I finally learned that some people never change."

Beth didn't say anything, but Rosita's words were striking a nerve. She looked up and into the other woman's bloodshot, brown eyes and saw the solemnity that had been underlying her voice.

"But I'm not gonna let some loser piece of shit like that scare me away from living my life," she continued as her mouth slowly formed a smile. "Comin' here was the best thing I ever did. And these are some of the best people I've ever met… I think it could be like that for you, too – if ya wanted."

Beth shrugged, but her mind was wandering – probably from the weed – and she was thinking about everything in Georgia and everything in New York City all at once. Then she had to remind herself that she wasn't _actually_ abused, and she hoped the other girls wouldn't suddenly flock to her and start treating her like another "abuse survivor." It would only make her feel worse in the end after everything she'd done to contribute to her own shitty situation.

"Y'know – I, um, it wasn't all so black and white, ya know?" Beth started, her mouth moving on its own before she'd consciously decided to let the words come out. "I mean… I did my part, too. I did… _lots_ of bad things. It wasn't all just, like… _abuse_. I mean, I didn't have a _bad_ life, and – well, we loved each other a lot. Things just got… really _complicated_."

She couldn't seem to put what she was thinking into a fully-formed and comprehensive sentence, but she looked up and checked Rosita's expression to see if she'd gotten the gist anyway. Rosita was looking at her with an expression that resembled pity – or empathy. Beth couldn't quite tell the difference between the two at the moment.

"The shitty part is: I said the exact same thing, and so did every other chick at the support group meetings," Rosita stated matter-of-factly.

Before Beth could argue, there was a knock on the bathroom door and this time, it was Tara's loud voice on the other side.

"What're y' _doing_ in there?! Denise's here!"

Rosita laughed, any thought of what they'd just been discussing gone, and her eyes lit up as she hopped off the counter and gestured for Beth to follow her back out to the living room.

They left the bathroom and headed out to the kitchen, where Tara was standing with a woman Beth had never seen before. She was a heavyset woman with dirty blonde hair, glasses, and a round face, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail and away from her hazel eyes. She smiled at Beth kindly.

"Rosie, this is Denise," Tara introduced them as Beth reached out and shook the blonde woman's hand. Tara leaned in and gave Denise a proud peck on the cheek, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Nice to meet you, Rosie," Denise said, rolling her eyes at her girlfriend. "See, this is why I don't let her drink on weeknights - she's always drunk before ten and then she wakes up hungover and grumpy."

Rosita laughed, as did Beth, while Tara proceeded to head to the fridge and make herself another drink, calling out on the way, "Yeah, and it's not ten yet and I'm not _drunk_ yet!"

Denise retorted with a smile, "Okay, but we'll see how many times you complain about your headache in the morning."

"Are you guys coming back to play or not?!" Clem called from the table, where she, Enid, and Austin were still sitting with the cards laid out before them.

"Yes!" Tara yelled back. "Denise, you have to play with us!"

Denise shrugged. "Do I really have a choice? I already know we're not leaving for at least another hour."

"Okay, but – it's _Rosita's_ _birthday_!" Tara laughed drunkenly. "Hey, Rosie, d'you want a drink yet?"

Beth was about to say no again, but changed her mind once more. She knew that as soon as she left this apartment tonight, she'd have to face nothing but thoughts about her family's misery – so why not enjoy the next couple of hours while she could? It's not like she hadn't earned it.

"Sure," Beth answered, getting a surprised look from Rosita. "Surprise me!"

"Oh, you don't need to tell her that," Denise said with a playful smile.

Beth laughed, and it wasn't forced or fake or polite. When Tara presented her with a concoction, she tasted it and found it to be surprisingly delicious. Her stomach didn't even object. Her head was light and she already felt more relaxed, so she sipped on the drink slowly, still unsure of its potency.

The group rejoined Enid, Clem, and Austin at the table in the living room to continue their card game. Denise brought a chair from the kitchen to squeeze in next to Tara and joined the game, though she refrained from drinking. As the game went on and more alcohol was ingested, the group of friends grew louder and more rambunctious.

Beth had a couple more drinks and was just barely buzzed, but she continued to keep to herself and listen more than she spoke. She and Denise had a few short conversations during times when the others were distracted, and Beth soon learned that Tara's girlfriend was a psychiatrist who had a twin brother that lived in New Jersey. A few times, the two women tried to include Austin in their little conversations, too, since he was also sober and sitting nearby, but he seemed more content with watching Rosita and pulling her in close to him every chance he got. He did mention, at one point, that he was a bartender, but Beth had already figured out that he wasn't any sort of authority just from casually observing him.

By the time Beth was on her fourth drink, she felt like she was floating and none of her problems mattered – at least not for the time being. She found herself joking with the other girls and she noticed the surprised looks in Enid's and Clem's eyes, but she didn't care for the time being. Tara finally reached the point where she promised Denise she was on her last drink so they could leave once she'd finished it.

They had just played their last cards and ended the game when Enid asked Rosita, "Oh, before I forget – d'you have those shoes you said I could borrow?"

Beth sipped on the last half of her final drink, deciding she'd better cut herself off before she began stumbling and slurring her words. She watched, half-interested, as Rosita stepped away from the table and went to one of the doors across the room. But Beth looked away and went back to gazing around the table and listening to the others' conversations.

"Oh – you play guitar?!" Enid's voice carried across the room and Beth turned her head at the mention of the word.

She watched Rosita pull an old acoustic guitar out of the closet she'd been digging around in. Enid took it carefully, examining it. Impulsively, Beth stood up and walked over to join them.

"You play?" She asked, looking to Rosita for an answer.

Rosita chuckled. "Oh, no. It was my ex's, I just never got rid of it 'cause I thought I might learn someday. It's probably way outta tune."

Enid held the guitar out for Beth to inspect and she leaned in closer, then reached her hands out to take it carefully. She began checking the strings and the neck of the guitar, gently rotating the tuning machines.

"So did you learn how to play?" Enid asked.

Rosita scoffed and laughed. "No, I said I _thought_ I _might_ learn. So of course I just shoved it in a closet and forgot about it."

Enid laughed aloud at that, but Beth had stopped paying attention. She'd found the nearest chair and sat down, resting the guitar in her lap while she focused on tuning it, plucking the strings repetitively until she got the sound she wanted from each one.

"Do _you_ play?" Enid asked when she finally turned away from Rosita and noticed Beth tuning the guitar.

Beth nodded but didn't look up, still focused on the instrument.

"Oh, cool," Rosita commented.

"You should play something," Enid said.

Beth was still staring down at the guitar, but she felt herself blushing, and not just because of the alcohol in her system. She shrugged as she finished tuning the guitar and finally looked up.

"D'you know any songs?" Rosita asked with drunken enthusiasm.

"Kinda… I haven't played in weeks," Beth mumbled, running her fingers over the strings and reminiscing on the brand new guitar that she'd left behind on the farm. It didn't hurt as much to think about after a few drinks, but the pain was still a dull throbbing. The piano at Carol's had only worked to satiate her need of music for a short time.

"I'll turn off the speaker, then you can play something," Enid urged, rushing off to the speaker in front of the TV to turn it off for the moment.

Beth wasn't really paying attention, though, because she'd already set the guitar up on her lap and placed her fingers over the familiar frets to begin strumming. With the mixture of vodka and whatever else had been in her drink floating through her body and loosening her inhibitions, she'd started playing the first thing that came to mind that seemed fun at the time, without any thought towards Rosita or Enid watching her, or anyone else who would hear her from across the room. The muscle memory in her fingers and hands did the rest of the work, and before long, she was in her own world as she created beautiful sounds with her own hands and her own voice.

She wasn't sure why the song had flowed out of her, but her fingers seemed to move on their own as she played the familiar tune, and her heart fluttered when she heard herself singing again. " _Hey there, Delilah, what's it like in New York City? I'm a thousand miles away, but girl, tonight you look so pretty, yes you do… Times Square can't shine as bright as you, I swear it's true…"_

Beth was halfway through the song before she lifted her eyes from the ground, where she'd been staring while she was zoned out and focused on the music. She quickly realized that the apartment had grown quiet except for her cover of "Hey There Delilah," and Rosita and Enid weren't the only ones watching her play. Still sitting at the table, Denise, Tara, and Clem were watching as well, and Austin had come over to join Rosita, his hands on her waist as he stood behind her and watched Beth play.

Her cheeks grew hot and she looked down again to finish the song, finding it far more enjoyable when she wasn't looking into the faces of all the people who were watching her play. She hadn't played music in front of other people since her days at church, but she had already known all those people and she didn't care what they thought of her. This, however, was different, because she actually cared what they would think of her – specifically that they wouldn't find her suspicious, but she was enjoying having friends, too, and hoped it would continue. She remembered how Daryl had reacted when he'd secretly watched her play a song, though, and it reassured her.

She imagined she was alone again, and that it was just him standing in the corner, silently watching her.

"… _Oh, it's what you do to me… what you do to me, ohh, oh-h-h…_ "

When she strummed the final chord and rested her hands, she looked up to see that everyone was smiling, and within seconds, Enid and Rosita were clapping excitedly, and then the others joined. Tara gave a playful cheer from her seat next to Denise.

"Wow, we actually have a friend with a real talent in the group now!" Tara said loudly, and the others laughed.

Beth's face was bright red now, and she set the guitar down and laughed sheepishly before going back to her seat at the table for another sip of her drink. She felt like she needed another confidence boost after being the center of attention for much longer than she preferred. But it only took a couple of minutes before everyone had moved on to talking about something else, and Beth was back to sitting comfortably unnoticed.

A few minutes later, Rosita came back to the table with Austin and sat down, leaning over to talk to Beth.

"Hey, you can have that guitar if you want it," she said casually. "It's not like I'll ever learn how to play it."

Beth furrowed her brows. "What? No way, it's yours. You're not supposed to give _me_ stuff on _your_ birthday."

Rosita laughed and shook her head. "No, really – you'd be doing me a favor. I don't even wanna waste the time to take it somewhere and sell it, or post an ad for it, so just take it home. Otherwise, it's goin' right back in that closet."

Beth shrugged and felt her cheeks heating up once again. "Well… I mean, I guess if you _really_ don't want it. You sure you don't want like, some money or somethin'?"

Rosita shook her head again. "No, dude, take it. Don't even worry about it. You'll get a lot more joy out of it than I ever could."

Beth smiled and relaxed – maybe Rosita was more like-minded to herself than she'd originally thought. "Thanks… That's really nice of you. I, uh… I had a guitar back home. Couldn't really bring it with me, though."

Rosita gave her a knowing smile. "I figured."

* * *

The party had wrapped up not long after eleven. Austin and Rosita grew more and more touchy and handsy until it became clear to everyone that Rosita had had just the right amount of alcohol for the night and it was time for them all to give her some privacy.

Tara insisted on giving Clem and Enid a ride home to ensure their safe arrival, and then offered the same to Beth. They all took her up on the offer and Denise was just relieved to learn that they all lived within a short distance of each other.

When Tara informed her that Beth lived with Daryl, Denise seemed surprised.

"Oh, Daryl? _Dixon_? Really?" She said, pulling out into the street once they were all buckled in and ready to leave.

"Yeah, what other Daryl do we know?" Tara laughed.

Denise shrugged. "I dunno. It just surprises me. I mean, I've only talked to him a handful of times, but from a _psychiatrist's_ point of view – "

Tara laughed harder, interrupting her, "Oh, _please_ , don't even _start_ with that shrink shit."

Denise started laughing now, then calmed and spoke more seriously, "No, but in all honesty, he's a good guy. Reminds me of my brother. He's just… _tough_ … I think he's covering up some serious trauma. But what do I know, no one pays me to analyze him so I'm just guessing."

Beth decided to remain silent and enjoy the pleasant numbness in her head and body that the mixed drinks had caused for the duration of the ride home.

The hall between Daryl's and Carol's apartments was eerily silent when Beth finally reached the top floor landing, panting from climbing three flights of stairs with a guitar in hand. 3B looked to be dark and Beth figured Carol and Sophia were already in bed for the night. 3A appeared to be dark as well, so she pulled out the key and unlocked the door as quietly as she could to step inside carefully while she tried not to make any noise.

But the apartment wasn't as dark or as quiet as it had appeared from the outside. When she entered, prepared to shut the door quietly and tiptoe across the floor, she found instead that the TV was on in the living room, although all the lights were off except for the stove light in the kitchen. She could see the back of Daryl's shadowed figure as he sat on the couch and watched TV.

He turned around to see her when he heard the noise and gave a nod of acknowledgment, which she returned. She shut and locked the door and headed straight for her bedroom to put away the guitar and stuff all her things – gun, photo, bag full of money – back into their safe spots. Then she stripped off her clothes, including the undershirt, and changed into pajamas before plopping down on the bed with her phone.

She began scrolling through the national news sites in another tireless effort to keep on top of her family's publicity. Thankfully, she didn't find anything new, national or otherwise. She switched to checking her email, and then her texts, more as a way to keep her hands busy than anything.

Her eyes skimmed over the text she'd received from Daryl earlier that night, which she'd completely forgotten about. Now she felt bad for not replying and taking a ride from Denise without even letting him know. She wondered for a second if he had waited up to make sure she got home safely, or if her drunken mind was creating guilt where there was no guilt to be found.

Beth glanced over at the guitar, which she'd sat in the corner of the room, and thought about how she'd have to look into getting a case for it. She found some genuine happiness in owning a guitar again. Just knowing that she had the option of the escape of music was therapeutic in itself and helped to ease her mind and nerves.

It also made her feel nice to know that she'd met new people who didn't know a thing about her yet already seemed to like her for who she was. She wasn't trying to get attached and start planting some sort of roots in this city, especially when she'd be fleeing within the year, but she was pretty sure that having normal, human contact every now and then was one of the only things keeping her sane for the time being. If it weren't for Daryl and the girls he'd introduced her to through his class, she'd probably be going stir crazy right now and starving herself with paranoia and guilt.

There was a knock at her bedroom door and she jumped, having been lost in her own train of thought. She was puzzled because she thought Daryl had gone to bed already – she'd thought she heard him go down the hall a half-hour ago – but he must have just been going to the bathroom. She tossed her phone aside on the bed and got up to open the door, finding Daryl standing before her in his pajamas with the kitchen light turned on behind him.

"Sorry, you weren't sleepin', were you?" He asked quietly.

She shook her head. "No, I was just… readin'."

He nodded and continued, "I'm makin' a grilled cheese, you want one?"

Her stomach growled as soon as she pictured the grilled cheese, and she figured she'd probably better eat something besides chips and cupcakes after having several drinks. Especially after the morning she'd had and how it had affected her appetite. "Sure, that sounds good. Thanks."

Daryl nodded again and turned away to head into the kitchen and begin cooking. Beth felt like it'd be rude to hide away in her bedroom and eat, so she shut her door and went into the living room to sit on the couch and watch TV while Daryl prepared the sandwiches. She found that he'd been watching reruns of the zombie show again, and she didn't bother to change the channel.

A short time later, Daryl approached the couch with two plates and napkins in his hands. He held one out for Beth to take and she did, as well as the napkin, then he sat down next to her with his own.

"Thank you," Beth said, glancing at him and noticing that he'd been staring at her just a little longer than usual.

He nodded and grumbled out, "Welcome."

They began eating in silence while the zombie show continued on the TV at a low volume. After a few bites and another commercial break advertising the show they were watching, Beth commented, "Another marathon?"

"Mm-hmm," he grunted, taking another bite from his grilled cheese.

She didn't know if she was imagining things because of the mixture of weed and alcohol still fogging up her head or if she was actually feeling Daryl's eyes on her every couple of minutes. She tried to check from her peripherals but she couldn't quite tell where his eyes were looking because of his hair. She finished her sandwich in silence anyway, and when he finished his shortly after, she reached out to take his dirty plate and napkin to the kitchen along with her own.

"Thanks," he mumbled as she slipped past him and took the plates to the sink.

"Y'make a mean grilled cheese," she joked, and he chuckled quietly in response but didn't say anything.

Beth returned to her seat on the couch and sunk back into the cushion with her stomach satisfied, tucking her legs beneath her. She still wasn't quite sleepy, but she was getting interested in the TV show and was eager to grab at something that would keep her mind busy.

Daryl seemed pretty relaxed, too, and as they sat, she continued getting that feeling she'd been getting while they were eating – like he was glancing over at her every few minutes. She told herself she was just being paranoid.

But it didn't take more than one commercial break spent in silence before he was starting a conversation, to Beth's surprise.

"How was Rosita's?" He asked. He'd started chewing on his thumb thoughtfully just a few seconds before he'd spoken, and continued to do so as he watched her for her response.

She turned to face him and smiled, "It was fun. Did _you_ know it was her birthday?"

He shrugged, then lowered his hand to rest in his lap with the other. "Didn't think she was the type t'wanna make a big deal out of it."

Beth raised her eyebrows. "Well, you're right about that. She didn't. I think it was more of an excuse for 'em to get drunk in the middle of the week."

Daryl snickered and said, "Sounds about right. Tara's got a pretty busy work schedule, s'pose she's tryin' t'get lit every chance she has. Know I would with that kinda stress."

Beth nodded knowingly. She found it interesting how Daryl seemed to understand the other girls even though he didn't talk to them much. Or maybe he just related to people wherever he could.

"Thanks, by the way – for the text earlier," she said, suddenly remembering the small bout of guilt she'd felt before. "I forgot t'text back, but Denise an' Tara gave me a ride home."

He shrugged. "'S alright, jus' didn't want ya t'walk home in the dark. Where'd the guitar come from?"

Beth chuckled, remembering the guitar she'd mysteriously shown up with. "Oh yeah, hah – Rosita gave it to me. Um – well, I guess it was her ex's and she doesn't know how t'play and she didn't want it, so she kinda… insisted I take it."

He raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "Huh. What'd ya do, put on a show for 'em?"

She stared into his eyes and hesitated for a second, unsure of how to interpret his tone. But then she saw the hint of a playful smirk forming on his lips and she replied, "They _demanded_ t'hear me play. You can't say no to the birthday girl."

He laughed quietly and the sound caused a flutter in her stomach that quickly sprouted outwards and all through her limbs. But she attributed it to the alcohol that was still in her system, and the high that was slowly wearing off, as well as the good mood that the party had left her in – despite the small parts that could've ruined her entire night.

"So ya got a date tomorrow, I heard," Beth said, still smiling faintly. She tried to turn the attention away from herself, afraid of how red her face might get tonight.

Daryl's smile faded and he looked down at his hands, where he was picking his nails absent-mindedly. He sounded apathetic when he responded, "Yeah, I guess. Can't say I ever really did the _date_ thing so… I'unno."

Beth shrugged but tried to remain uplifting. "No different than hangin' out, it's just got a title. You already met her, right?"

He shook his head. "Nah. Friend o' Carol's… Uh, _blind_ date."

She smirked. "Wow, how adventurous of you. I can't wait t'meet her."

He scoffed. " _If_ y'all meet her. 'S just a date. I ain't gettin' my hopes up."

Beth tilted her head and continued staring at him, raising her eyebrows. "Well, with _that_ attitude, it probably won't be enjoyable for _either_ of you."

Daryl finally cracked a smile and she returned it, but he quickly glanced down and away from her eyes. "Nah, it's not like I'm gonna be a dick to her or nothin'. I just know how people can be. Never really went out lookin' fer a date or a girlfriend or whatever, an' there's a reason fer that – ain't many good people left."

Beth's smile faded. "Well that ain't necessarily true…"

He shrugged and continued softly, "Maybe fer somebody yer age, but the ones who're interested in a single dad in his thirties are kinda limited... Ain't sayin' I'm some sorta catch neither, it's jus' fer the boy's sake."

She tilted her head curiously and he seemed to find assurance in the gesture.

"Never actually _dated_ anybody anyway. Wasn't my thing. Never took it seriously – y'know, sex an' hookups an' all that. Might sound scummy, but sex was the only reason I ever bothered with any o'that in the first place. Till Mal's mom, o'course. But I can't be bringin' just anybody in here. Just ain't important t'me… Kid always comes first now."

He was gazing off toward the ground but Beth could see his mind working behind his dark hair and hooded eyes.

"Just 'cause the kid comes first doesn't mean y'have to put yourself last," Beth said quietly.

"Don't matter – ain't about me no more. Ain't got high hopes, but I ain't gonna ruin it neither," he muttered. "It'll mean somethin' to Carol, an' she volunteered t'have the kid stay the night, so I'll try it out… Think I owe her that much."

Beth nodded in understanding, letting the silence settle for a moment after he'd finished, waiting to see if he had more to say. He didn't look up, though, staring down at his hands as he continued to pick at his fingernails, almost nervously.

"Well, you can always leave," she said, trying to sound encouraging by suggesting her own solution for most problems. "If she sucks, I mean. You don't have t'spend a whole night with someone ya don't like."

He grunted, like a half-chuckle. "Yeah, I s'pose. Hope it don't come to that, though."

"I'm sure it won't," she said, remembering what the girls had been saying earlier at Rosita's house. "Carol's a pretty good judge of character, an' you trust her enough to go on a date with somebody you've never met. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't've agreed t'that just t'get a night to yourself."

He actually did chuckle this time, and lifted his head to look at her again. "Ya ain't wrong."

Beth gave him a small smile, then, in an attempt to make him laugh again, she playfully prodded, "Unless yer just _scared_ an' don't wanna admit it…"

She kept the smile on her face to show him she was kidding but his face grew solemn and he stared back at her thoughtfully.

He didn't laugh or even smirk when he mumbled, "Huh… maybe."

Beth furrowed her brow and waited, but he appeared to be lost in thought for the moment. Her smile waned.

She asked quietly, "Maybe?"

He shrugged, his eyes focusing back in on hers and narrowing. "Ain't afraid like, maybe _you'd_ be afraid. But there's always… _somethin'_ about meetin' new people."

She blinked and spoke the first thing that came to mind, " _Everybody's_ got somethin' to lose by trustin' somebody new."

He didn't break his intense gaze, his voice coming out barely louder than a whisper when he said, "Exactly."

She wasn't sure what exactly happened, but the fluttering had returned to her stomach, and she had to tear her eyes away from Daryl's. She couldn't explain it – a combination of the tone in his voice and the look in his eyes. She didn't think it was just the alcohol affecting her brain anymore.

And now it felt like there was something large and unspoken sitting between them – but it was something she couldn't name herself, nor could she willingly identify. It wasn't something she wanted to approach just yet either. She had a nagging suspicion that she was imagining things, or looking for comfort where there was none to be found.

But she also felt the palpable _something_ that hung in the air between them, and she _knew_ it wasn't just nothing – just like she knew she wasn't the only one who could sense it.

Then a familiar voice came from the end of the hall, calling out, "Dad…?!"

Beth's eyes darted toward the hall, as did Daryl's, but it quickly became clear that Malachi was still in his bed.

Daryl's sudden movement when he turned his head toward the hallway had caused his leg to bump the TV remote that was sitting on the cushion beside him, and it fell to the floor with a loud clattering that startled both of them.

Instinctively, Beth leaned down to pick it up from where it had landed directly in front of the couch, her arm stretching out and her hand snatching it up off the carpet before she sat straight up again. But when she lifted her head and sat back up, she found Daryl unexpectedly close because he had leaned down at the same time to retrieve the same remote.

He seemed to pause, though, remaining halfway leaned forward over the couch, and Beth found herself doing the same with the remote still held in her hand. Their eyes were locked once more, and Beth was so close that she could see his eyelashes, even in the dim lighting of the room.

She didn't know if she was imagining things or if his dark blue eyes were _actually_ glancing at her lips.

She held her breath, sensing his body slowly moving in to fill the inches of space between them, intent clear on his face.

She froze. The only thought in her head was, _Is he really…?_

" _ **Da-ad!**_ "

Daryl whipped his head around to look toward the hall once more, and so did Beth as she simultaneously let out the breath she'd been holding. She quickly placed the remote back on the couch and stood up, grateful for the chance to back away and suddenly noticing the way her hands were slightly trembling.

"Probably wanna check on him," she muttered, feeling awkward for the first time since she'd been sitting on the couch with Daryl. Now she could _really_ tell that the alcohol was wearing off.

Daryl coughed, although it sounded a bit forced to Beth, and stood up. He looked around briefly, seeming practically disoriented for a second, but then shook it off quickly and grunted his agreement before rushing off toward the bedroom.

As soon as he was heading down the hall, Beth took the opportunity to head for her bedroom, where she shut the door tightly behind her. She sat in the dark and listened as Daryl came back down the hall less than five minutes later, turned off the TV, and returned to his bedroom for the night.

Yet her hands wouldn't stop trembling for at least fifteen minutes after that.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the long wait on this chapter. I struggled to finish it, even though I wrote it out of order. So if you catch any inconsistencies I might've missed or if you have any criticisms on any of the things depicted in this chapter, please let me know! And thank you to EVERYONE for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting!


	19. my hell comes from inside myself

**Warning:** This chapter contains graphic depictions of domestic violence.

* * *

 _ **my hell comes from inside myself**_

Beth awoke Thursday morning, clutching her pocket watch beneath the pillow but also feeling surprisingly well. She had expected a headache or another bout of nausea, but she didn't have any haunting dreams and besides being a little extra thirsty, there wasn't much of a hangover present. She was a little more tired than usual and didn't have any motivation to get up and do anything. She was thankful, though, when she recalled just how many of Tara's concoctions she'd had over the course of the night.

Then she remembered what had happened just before she'd called it a night and gone to bed. A wave of embarrassment rushed over her and she started to wonder if she should try to avoid Daryl for the rest of the day.

It was nearly noon and she was glad he'd left already, though she wasn't sure whether to expect him later in the evening or not. But based on what he'd told her, she figured she could hide in her room around the time he usually got home – in case he stopped by to shower and change before his date – and then hopefully he wouldn't come home until late, and he'd go straight to bed without knocking on her door or inviting her to share a snack with him or something. That was an ideal situation, though, and she was afraid she'd probably be better off just locking herself in her bedroom all day. Or maybe he would be too occupied with his date to sense the tension or try to talk to her and she wouldn't have to worry about it.

Beth didn't want to think about all that at the moment. Instead, she picked up her phone and checked for notifications. She found a text from Irma – another update on her and Dale's road trip – as well as a text from Tara, the timestamp from just a few hours before. She was a little surprised, then read:

 _Omg dude I'm so hungover. Last night was hella fun tho! Keep your Saturday night open – but don't mention anything to Rosita ;)_

The text left Beth feeling confused, her mind still foggy from sleep, but she just shook her head and resolved to text Tara back later. She went on to check the news: national first, then Georgia and Atlanta. There was nothing new posted, and a couple of newer stories had bumped the article about her family's court proceedings down a few notches. Her muscles instinctively relaxed just the slightest, and she set the phone back down.

She lay in bed for a little longer, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the night before in her head. It wasn't the party she couldn't stop dwelling on, though… it was the awkward moment with Daryl. She still wasn't sure if it had all been in her head or not.

Maybe she was reading too much into it because she'd still been intoxicated? Or maybe she'd just plain interpreted his body language incorrectly. She reminded herself that she'd only even _known_ the guy for less than two weeks, so who was she to think that she knew him like _that_?

She told herself it had been a mistake – just a weird moment where they'd both been a little uncoordinated and were both too socially awkward to know what to do about it. Surely she was being overdramatic by thinking of ways to avoid him when there was obviously nothing to avoid.

Yet there was still a nagging voice in the back of her head, telling her that she knew _exactly_ what that look in his eyes had been. It taunted her for freezing up when she'd really wanted to move aside, or sit back, or remove herself from the situation entirely.

What if Malachi hadn't interrupted them when he did? Would she have let Daryl get closer? Would she have let him touch her like that, or get close enough… in _that_ way?

Everything in her was saying _no_. Yet she could still hear the small part crying _yes, oh_ _ **god**_ _, yes_.

Her skin crawled and she felt torn in half by her need for space and her desire for intimacy.

With a defeated sigh, Beth got out of bed and stretched. She slipped on some comfortable pants and wandered out into the apartment, finding it lit dimly by the afternoon sun. When she went to the windows and looked out, she saw that it had rained the night before, and now there were puddles and drying streets, and the clouds were still fighting for their place in the sky. The sun persisted from behind them, but it was a losing battle. She lifted the windows just a few inches and let in the damp air, a cool breeze blowing in and refreshing the air in the living room.

She used the bathroom, washing her face and brushing her teeth before heading to the kitchen. She found the coffeepot empty, to her dismay. However, there was a small note sitting on the counter right in front of it, and it looked to be in Daryl's scratchy handwriting:

 _Forgot to get coffee yesterday. Bringing it home today. Sorry :(_

Despite the inconvenience and utter disappointment of having no coffee in the apartment, Beth found herself smiling as she stared down at the scrawled apology. When she realized it, she shook her head and crumpled the note in her hand, then tossed it into the trash in frustration.

She knew she could head out to the store and buy coffee for herself, or even find a Starbucks (there seemed to be one on every other corner anyway), but she had no motivation to get dressed or try to wander out into public. Carrying her mild upset, she went about making herself some breakfast. To avoid the annoying thoughts floating around her head, she turned on the TV and listened to it as she cooked, then sat down on the couch to eat while she watched _Dr. Phil_ reruns. She made hot tea as a substitute for the coffee, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying.

Beth had finished eating and washed the dishes that had piled up before she sat back down in the living room. She watched TV for a while, sprawled out on the couch and contemplating a nap. Her head was beginning to throb from caffeine withdrawal, and she shut her eyes to try to focus on breathing steadily and feeling the bouts of cool air that were drifting in from the windows on her skin. The smell of rain was floating in and the passing clouds were drizzling randomly. There was a small clap of thunder every five or ten minutes, but it became background noise along with the cars and voices outside.

It was half past one when there was a knock at the front door. Beth opened her eyes and sat up to look toward it quizzically. She glanced at the clock to assure herself of the time, then got up and walked over to peer through the peephole.

To her surprise, Clem was standing outside. There didn't look to be anyone else with her, so Beth unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hey – everythin' okay?" Beth asked, looking Clem up and down for any signs of distress. But she was dressed casually, her springy, black hair pulled up into a high, bushy bun, and holding two large Starbucks cups in her hands while she gave Beth a puzzled look.

"Uh, yeah – everythin' okay with _you_?" Clem asked, quirking an eyebrow and holding out one of the cups for Beth to take. "Daryl asked me to make a Starbucks run and grab you something, so here ya go."

Now it was Beth's turn to look confused. She took the cup hesitantly, even though she was grateful to see the coffee. "Oh – wow. Okay. Well, thank you. Did he pay you already, or – "

Clem waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, this morning. I just kinda assumed you'd be sleeping in, so I didn't get yours till my second coffee run of the day."

Beth raised her eyebrows in surprise but took a long sip of the hot coffee anyway. She had noticed that Daryl drank his coffee almost black, but this was prepared just the way she liked it. She assumed Clem had known because she probably liked hers the same... Or maybe Daryl had told her. But she wasn't sure that he paid that much attention.

"Thanks again, I kinda needed this," Beth said.

Clem smirked. "I bet. How'd you feel this morning?"

Beth shrugged. "Not that bad. I paced myself an' had somethin' to eat before bed. It was just the lack of caffeine."

"Oh – right," Clem nodded. "Well, that's cool. Daryl said he probably wouldn't be back till late tonight… What're you gonna do till then?"

Beth smiled jokingly. "What I always do, I guess. It's not like we hang out when he's home or somethin'. It'll just be quieter without Malachi around."

Clem smiled and Beth wondered why it looked so mischievous. "Right… Well, I got some more work to do before I'm off. Wanna come hang out in the lobby? It's been pretty lonely today."

Beth furrowed her brow and searched Clem's face for any sign that she was joking or trying to pull some weird prank. But she seemed to be serious. Beth couldn't figure out why Clem would want to hang out with her – they'd barely spoken, and when they did, she'd always sensed that Clem either didn't like her or didn't trust her… or both.

Then again, she had nothing to really lose. Clem was only asking her to go down to the lobby and hang out for a little while. Beth didn't even have to go out in public. And she could come back upstairs and to the safety of the apartment whenever she wanted.

Beth nodded. "Sure – if you're not too busy."

Clem rolled her eyes and smiled. "Not even close."

Beth chuckled. "Okay, lemme throw some clothes on and I'll come down."

Clem nodded and turned to head back downstairs.

Beth closed the door and went about shutting off the TV and changing into something other than pajamas. She ran a brush through her hair and grabbed her phone to stuff into her pocket. Knowing that Malachi wouldn't be back all night, she didn't bother to pull her bag out from under the bed or move the gun from beneath the pillow. She shut her bedroom door tightly and left the apartment locked up, tucking the spare key safely into her pocket.

When Beth got downstairs, Clem was sitting at the reception desk. She gestured for Beth to join her behind the desk, where she'd pulled up another chair. She seemed to have a couple of books laid out on the desk and a notebook where she was taking notes. It looked like she'd been doing homework, and Beth envied her for a brief second.

"Oh, wow – no wonder you're so bored down here," Beth remarked, glancing around the empty lobby and then down at the homework.

Clem nodded. "Right? Not that I'm complaining about having time to do some homework, but still… it gets way too quiet down here."

"No kiddin'," Beth said, sitting down and getting comfortable at the desk next to Clem. She rested an elbow on it and looked down at the book and papers curiously. "You're – in college, right?"

"Yeah," Clem said. "This is uh, Art Histoy."

"Oh, cool," Beth said. "D'you have a major yet?"

Clem shrugged. "My mom owns an art gallery so I think she wants me to do something like that, but… I haven't committed to anything yet. Still not totally sure I don't wanna drive a truck cross-country for a living."

Beth laughed but Clem only smiled as if she were half-serious. Then she asked, "What about you – did you go to college? Or you want to?"

Beth's smile faded and she thought about her daddy and the promises he'd made. And then she thought about how they'd all fallen apart. "Nah, not really. I – uh – got kinda distracted. Y'know… stupid boys. But yeah, I definitely want to. I've always wanted to go to college, ever since I was little."

"Oh, yeah," Clem said, lowering her voice and speaking cautiously. "The… abusive ex?"

Beth nodded. "I mean – it's my own fault, too. But that's life, I guess."

Clem smirked. "At least you won't have to worry about being able to afford it, right?"

Beth furrowed her brow. "What d'you mean?"

Clem shrugged and leaned in a little closer. "Well – the inheritance. Carol's kind of a gossip, and – ya know, I wasn't trying to be nosey or anything, but you kinda had a lot of money on you when we went out the other day."

Beth was a little taken aback by the young girl's bluntness, but she also appreciated it. Clem could come off a bit quiet or uneasy, but Beth was starting to see that she was just observing. She obviously picked up on a lot more than the other girls did. And at least she was somewhat easy to read – even if she didn't speak her mind, she couldn't seem to stop her face from expressing it.

"Oh – yeah," Beth said, blinking but keeping a small smile on her face in the hopes of appearing confident. "I'm tryin' to be careful about that, but it's all I came here with, so I don't like to leave it layin' around. To be honest… I'd never seen that much money in my life. I don't even know what t'do with it all."

That was a lie. She knew exactly what she had to do with it all. "Rosie," however, did not.

Clem chuckled, brown eyes sparkling. "Dude, that's kinda crazy. That's like – _a_ _lot_ of money. Why don't you just get a bank account?"

"I still don't have my ID," Beth lied. "And I'm kinda just… trying to lay low until I'm sure my ex won't come huntin' for me up here."

Clem raised her eyebrows and looked at Beth in slight disbelief. "Oh, yeah… Carol told me about that, with the contacts and whatnot… Sounds pretty – uh, _bad_ , dude."

Beth shrugged, feeling the energy of their conversation taking a rapid nosedive. She tried to lighten the mood and added, "Well it's done with now. Live an' learn, right?"

Clem gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded in agreement, then looked down at her homework absent-mindedly.

"So what d'you do down here?" Beth asked, quickly changing the subject. "Is it one of those desk jobs where you get paid t'sit on Facebook all day?"

Clem laughed and Beth breathed easier.

"It is sometimes," Clem explained. "But no, I pretty much just do the stuff that the building manager doesn't wanna do. Like… I put in work orders when tenants have something that needs fixed, and I sign for packages, and sometimes I give people tours if we have a vacant rental. They want me to make sure there aren't any crazy people lurking around all day, too. But… yeah, it's a lot of Facebook and homework."

Beth laughed and Clem joined her.

They sipped their coffees and talked idly about their day-to-day lives: Clem talked about the classes she was taking and some of the funny experiences she'd had since working in the apartment building lobby, and Beth talked about Malachi's obsession with bugs and how well Daryl could actually cook. Then they both talked about the Saturday class, and what Beth should expect if she intended to keep attending, which turned into a conversation about the other people in the class that Clem had met since she started going.

Beth listened attentively and laughed often, though it wasn't forced because she found Clem to be genuinely funny, even when she wasn't trying to be. After a while, she started to wonder if the other girl had figured out that "Rosie" wasn't actually twenty-one, because the two of them were relating on more than just the group of people they'd made friends with. But then she decided that it didn't really matter anymore. Beth got a strong feeling that told her she could trust Clem, even if it was just a little. Plus, Clem seemed to enjoy having someone her own age to talk with. She seemed to be fairly close with Enid, but from what she'd told Beth so far, Enid had grown attached to her new boyfriend and was keeping busy with school and preparing for college.

The girls sat together in the lobby for well over an hour, talking and laughing. Beth learned that Clem had been fairly introverted most of her life and from the sounds of it, the girls from the class were her first real friends since all of her close friends had moved away for college. She didn't seem to mind, though. She talked about all the activities she'd been involved in during school and the vacations to other countries she would go on with her parents, as well as some of the crazy experiences she'd had with her small group of friends. Beth shared a couple of her own stories, though she found that she didn't have many to tell.

Clem was in the midst of telling Beth a particularly funny story from her years doing martial arts when the front door of the lobby opened and a familiar voice filled the quiet room.

"Hey, shitheads!"

It was Tara, dressed in her paramedic uniform with her hair pulled back in a tight bun and a toothpick in her mouth. She strode through the lobby and to the desk, leaning on the surface with her arms.

Clem smiled and Beth nodded in greeting.

"What're you doing here?" Clem asked. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"Lunch break," Tara answered, then looked to Beth. "You get my text this morning?"

Beth raised her eyebrows. "Oh – yeah. Sorry, I was half-asleep when I read it, I forgot to reply."

Tara rolled her eyes with a playful smile and gazed at the girls. "Whatever. That's why I'm here – you ladies comin' Saturday night?"

Clem gave Tara an expectant look. "For what?"

"Surprise party for Rosita," Tara said. "Me and Denise's house, four o'clock. We're having a _real_ birthday party for her."

Clem still looked a bit confused. "I thought… she didn't want a big party? She said it's just – "

Tara put up a hand and stopped Clem mid-sentence. " _Eh_! I don't _care_ what she said. Sometimes, she doesn't know what she _really_ wants. But _I_ do, that's why _I'm_ her best friend. And I'm having a _real_ birthday party for her – streamers and balloons and all that shit – and you guys are coming... Cool?"

Clem turned her head and looked at Beth for her opinion, who shrugged. Clem mimicked the motion and turned back to Tara. "Okay. Should we – like, bring anything?"

"Yeah, and what about a ride?" Beth added.

Tara pointed to Clem and told her, "Clem, I'm picking you up, and no, just bring your smiling face and – well, maybe some more of those cupcakes." Then she pointed to Beth and told her, "Rosie – well, you're riding with Daryl, right?"

Beth furrowed her brow and looked over to see that Clem had the same quizzical expression on her face. Beth looked back to Tara for an explanation. "He's… going?"

Tara nodded. "Well, yeah. I asked him this morning and he said he's down, as long as Carol wants to watch the kid."

"That's not fair," Clem said. "So Carol can't come?"

Tara gave Clem a look that said she knew better than that. " _Please_ – I've invited her every time and she always says no. I invited her before I ever thought to ask Daryl, and she said no. That's why I asked him."

"I'm surprised he said yes," Beth commented.

"He said _maybe_ ," Tara corrected. "But if you're depending on him for a ride – maybe he'll actually make an appearance this time."

Beth glanced over at Clem to see her reaction to that but Clem only looked intrigued. Beth said, "Alright, well… sure. If nothin' else, I'll just take a cab."

Tara drummed on the edge of the desk excitedly and grinned, then pointed to Beth enthusiastically. "I _like_ this girl! She's got commitment!"

Clem smiled and joked, "Yeah, and a backpack full of money to pay for all the cab rides in the world."

Beth's eyes widened but when she heard Tara's laugh and saw the playful look on Clem's face, she smiled, too, and chuckled.

"Hey, I'm not asking you for gas money, there's no need to be bitter," Tara said to Clem, still chuckling. "Seriously, though, I gotta go. Ya know – gotta get back to savin' lives and all that."

Clem rolled her eyes, still smiling, and she and Beth waved goodbye to Tara and watched her leave the lobby and disappear down the sidewalk. Beth turned back toward Clem to see that her smile had faded.

"Hm… you think Austin's gonna be there again?" Clem asked thoughtfully, still gazing toward the front door and the windows that showed sparse bits of the outside.

"Rosita's boyfriend?" Beth asked.

Clem nodded. "They're not official yet, but yeah."

"Oh," Beth shrugged. "I dunno. Probably. Why?"

Clem shrugged and looked back down at the books and papers scattered on the desk before her. "Just… eh, I'm probably just being weird, but he just… kinda gave me a weird feeling last night."

Now Beth was intrigued. She furrowed her brow and leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice as though there was someone around to hear them. "What d'you mean?"

Clem shrugged again and shook her head. "I dunno. I – read too much into stuff sometimes. Forget about it."

Beth leaned away a little and prepared to pry harder, hoping to get an answer. She couldn't think of any weird feelings she'd had about Austin – she hadn't even really exchanged more than five words with the guy – and now she was curious to find out what had caused Clem to feel this way. But she must've known Beth would try to pry, because she quickly changed the subject.

"You really think Daryl will show up?" Clem asked, looking at Beth again.

Beth immediately forgot about Austin. She shrugged. "I dunno. You ever seen him at anything besides class?"

Clem smirked. "Good point."

Beth smiled at her little joke and continued, "Maybe he'll bring Ally."

Clem laughed. "Yeah, right. Let's see if she makes it past tonight."

Beth furrowed her brow. "Wow, so pessimistic. You sound just like him."

Clem quirked a brow. "Oh, so you _do_ hang out?"

"What?" Beth was confused. "Where'd you get that?"

Clem smiled knowingly. "You just said I sound like him. Obviously he said something to you about his date tonight."

Beth looked away and down at her hands, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks. She was starting to hate how her body reacted to questions about Daryl. "Well, we're roommates, so he was lettin' me know that he'd be gone. We talked a little – ain't nothin' to really remember, though. He just sounded pessimistic and like he was only goin' on the date 'cause he felt obliged or somethin'."

"Probably is," Clem said, and Beth looked back into her eyes to see that she didn't appear to be secretly judging Beth or implying anything, which eased her. "I didn't just say that 'cause I'm a pessimistic fuck like Daryl; I'm just going off what I've seen, and what Carol and them have told me. She's tried to set him up on a bunch of dates, but he always says no. And I can't say I've ever seen him bring any women around here... For a little while, I thought he was gay."

Beth laughed. "He has a kid."

Clem didn't laugh. "So? My gay uncle has _two_ kids. He could be bisexual. I dunno… But then I never saw him with any guys either. It's only ever just him and Malachi. _Ever_."

"Oh," Beth said quietly. "Well… that don't mean anything. He seems to like bein' alone."

Clem gave Beth a pitying look. "Nobody likes being _that_ alone."

Beth pursed her lips and looked toward the door, as though she expected Daryl to walk through it any second. She thought about the night they'd sat together in silence, and how he'd vented about being lonely despite wanting to be alone. Then she thought about him knocking on her bedroom door, offering her food and companionship, and texting her, offering her safety. She also thought about the look he'd given her when they both realized that she could see some of the emotional scars he was trying to hide.

"Carol said, he's an… island," Beth mumbled, gazing off thoughtfully. "I think she wants t'crack the puzzle, but… I don't think he's a puzzle ya _can_ crack. Some people just wanna be left alone."

As soon as the words came out, she realized that she was sounding exactly like him. She wasn't sure when that had happened, but at the same time, she couldn't think of a better way to describe Daryl. She was only going off what he'd confided in her, after all.

"And what about you?" Clem asked, catching Beth off-guard. "I know your ex is a huge piece of shit, but… it's not like you'd make _that_ mistake again, right?"

Beth scoffed. "Another relationship is the very _last_ thing on my mind. Trust me. I might end up likin' being alone better, too."

Clem snickered. "Yeah, right."

Beth chuckled nervously and Clem narrowed her eyes knowingly.

"You guys don't hang out… you don't talk... but you know his kid's favorite hobby, and he cooks you dinner, and he's probably already talked to you in a _week_ as much as he's talked to Carol in _two_ _years_ ," Clem said, all with a mischievous smirk.

Beth swallowed hard and shook her head, rolling her eyes as though it were all ridiculous. "Like I said: we're roommates. You end up doin' stuff you wouldn't normally do."

Clem hadn't stopped smirking. "Right! Like riding to a party together on the back of his motorcycle."

Now Beth laughed. "That doesn't mean anything – I rode here on the back of his motorcycle barely fifteen minutes after we _met_."

Clem raised her eyebrows. "I've never seen him buy coffee for anybody before either. I worked here for six _months_ before he even said good morning to me."

But then she started laughing, too. Beth relaxed once they'd seemed to brush it all aside as a joke and moved on to talking about the busy Saturday that was approaching.

But Beth couldn't quite put it out of her head for the rest of the day. And the mischievous sparkle that had been in Clem's eyes didn't settle well with her, either.

* * *

 _Beth didn't feel any different when she woke up the day after her birthday. She was officially eighteen, but it didn't feel important anymore. She'd fallen asleep around ten so she hadn't been awake for her "birth time" like most years. Once again, it didn't seem to matter anymore._

 _She'd slept restlessly, tossing and turning and waking up every couple of hours. When she finally gave in and got up for the day, all she could think about was the time and how many hours she had until eight p.m. She had a thick knot of dread in her stomach, and it was growing larger and larger the closer she got to seeing Jimmy. She told herself she could still back out, could still call it off or change her mind. But the guilt always brought her back to the decision. She'd spent too long with him and loved him too much not to break up with him in person._

 _The day passed quickly. Hershel and Maggie kept busy for the most part, and after Beth had done her share of chores, she found plenty of uninterrupted free time. She played her new guitar for a while, but grew bored and distracted. A few times, she wandered about the house and the farm and looked for her sister and her daddy, hoping to catch them talking about what they'd been arguing over the night before. But they seemed to be eluding her and she was left just as clueless as she'd been while standing outside the study the night before._

 _When evening arrived, Beth put on a white cardigan over her light yellow T-shirt and headed downstairs. At first, she hesitated, expecting to find Maggie or Glenn or her daddy with a barrage of questions. She had convinced herself that she'd stand firm in her decision – as a_ _ **legal**_ _ **adult**_ _– to go out for a couple of hours and take care of a personal matter._

 _But she didn't have to use even one of the dozens of arguments she'd prepared in her head, because she found the farmhouse quiet and everyone either behind a closed door or somewhere outside the house. She'd noticed that Glenn's car was gone from its usual spot and assumed he and Maggie had gone into the city for something. Beth walked out the front door with no questions and, apparently, without anyone noticing she was gone._

 _She did, however, stop at the end table in the hallway on her way out. She found the loaded Beretta 92 that was always there, and glanced around once more before grabbing it and checking to make sure the safety was on, then slipping it into the waistband of her jeans, against her lower back. She'd heard plenty of horror stories about addicts and their erratic actions, and she wasn't about to be caught unprepared._

 _The night was mild. As she walked down the dirt road, travelling the familiar path she always took to her meeting spot with Jimmy, she found the breeze refreshing on her skin. The humidity had lifted just slightly; the air was still cooling down from the hot sun, but the temperature seemed to be dropping every minute. Beth's heart was beating quicker and quicker as she approached the corner, turning and heading toward an area of the road that was mostly blocked by thick trees. Their leaves rustled in the breeze, and it was the only sound besides the crickets and distant bullfrogs._

 _She glanced over her shoulder every few seconds, always finding the empty dirt road behind her. She quickened her pace when she finally got close enough to spot the corner of Jimmy's truck peeking out from behind the trees further down the road._

 _Her mind was blank except for the thought of seeing his face and how she'd feel. She still had no idea what to expect, and she couldn't decide if she was excited to see him or terrified. The fluttering butterflies in her stomach had turned to squirming maggots long ago._

 _When she approached the truck and passed the trees, she spotted Jimmy. He was sitting on the open tailgate of his truck, back turned to her, waiting. His truck was turned off and the only light was coming from the moon, which was dim this early in the night. He heard her footsteps in the grass and leaves and turned his head, and she almost jumped back from the sight of him. She stopped in her tracks and stared at the prominent red sores on his face, neck, and arms. He approached her but stopped a few feet away when he saw the look on her face._

" _Baby – "_

" _Don't," she interrupted him._

 _Seeing him like this – his pupils dilated in the darkness and his cheeks sallow – reminded her of what she had come to do. He had clearly gone into a downward spiral since she last saw him, and now she was wishing she'd just broken up with him over the phone._

" _But, Beth – "_

" _Jimmy, listen," she said, her voice shaky. She was trying her hardest to remain calm and stoic, like Maggie would be or her daddy, but her hands were trembling at her sides. "You… you need t'get help. I love you, and I'll always love you, but – look at yourself. We can't_ _ **do**_ _this anymore."_

 _He looked genuinely bewildered, his jaw twitching restlessly as he stared uncomfortably deep into her eyes. He talked fast, but clear enough to sound pleading. "What – I don't – what're you sayin'? I'm fine – it's just been a rough couple weeks. I miss you, baby. Let's go back t'my place, we can talk about this, we – "_

" _No," she stopped him, taking a step back. "I'm not goin' anywhere with you. I only came out here t'tell you this… I can't – I can't ever_ _ **trust**_ _you again, Jimmy. Don't you get that? The last time we were together – th-that wasn't right. You_ _ **hurt**_ _me."_

 _The perplexed look on his face didn't go away, and he seemed to be clueless. But Beth wasn't going to let him manipulate her this time. She was fighting back tears as flashes of August Eleventh played in her mind and she still couldn't wrap her head around how he'd been so unfazed, and still was. She wondered if he was so high that he'd somehow blacked out or something, even though she knew that wasn't likely._

" _Babe, I don't – look, I dunno what y'think happened. We got a li'l rough, but we always do. I thought you_ _ **liked**_ _it," he said, making her stomach writhe. "Yer emotional, I didn't think – look, yer family's been comin' down hard on ya lately, but you can't let 'em get t'you. We're still_ _ **soulmates**_ _, baby."_

" _Stop," she said, her voice weak. "I can't – I can't do this. I can't talk t'you, or-or see you. We're over, okay? Maybe someday, if you get help – "_

 _His face dropped and she felt a stab of guilt in her chest. His voice came out sad, pleading, almost child-like._

" _But – babe, what d'you_ _ **mean**_ _? Over? I-I don't – I can't_ _ **lose**_ _you, baby," he begged, tears forming in his eyes. "I need_ _ **your**_ _help, I can't – "_

 _Beth shook her head and forced back tears, raising her voice and trying to remain firm. "I can't_ _ **help**_ _you, Jimmy. We need time apart, an' – an' you need t'get_ _ **serious**_ _help… I'm breaking up with you. I'll always love you, but I'm sorry."_

 _Jimmy's demeanor immediately changed when he realized she wouldn't be swayed. In a split-second, he'd switched from confused and hurt to angry and frustrated._

 _Beth took another step back and this time, he noticed and took a step closer._

" _You don't get t'_ _ **do**_ _that!" He said, his voice and temper rising. "We're_ _ **meant**_ _to be together, Beth! We've – I've wasted a goddamn_ _ **year**_ _on you! You can't_ _ **end**_ _this! Not now!"_

 _Beth felt a physical aching in her chest and she swallowed past a knot in her throat, opening her mouth to speak, "You_ _ **raped**_ _– "_

" _Raped?_ _ **RAPED?!**_ _Are you_ _ **fucking**_ _kidding me?!" He was yelling, face turning red. "We're_ _ **together**_ _! I_ _ **can't**_ _rape you! Yer blowin' this_ _ **way**_ _outta proportion, Beth, yer just lettin' yer_ _ **goddamn**_ _family talk y'into – "_

" _My_ _ **family**_ _has nothin' to do with this!" Beth interrupted, her own voice rising to drown him out. She felt her anger bubbling to the surface and she'd never resented him more in her life than she did at this very moment. "I didn't even_ _ **tell**_ _them about it, 'cause if I did, you'd be_ _ **dead**_ _by now!"_

 _She hated herself, too. She'd been so naïve, so gullible and trusting. How could she think he would ever get clean for her? Or that they were meant to be together? How could she have thought her family didn't know what they were talking about when they had warned her and tried to protect her over and over? He'd tricked her – fooled her time and time again with his sweet words and soft kisses._

 _Jimmy's words were empty and meaningless now, and she knew that without a doubt. She couldn't believe she'd actually_ _ **trusted**_ _this monster. Or that she'd loved him so passionately._

 _And she hadn't told her family about August Eleventh, but it wasn't_ _ **just**_ _because they'd kill him if they knew… it was also because she knew it would be wrong to put all the blame on Jimmy when she was just as much at fault._

 _She'd_ _ **known**_ _he was dangerous and unpredictable and she'd_ _ **still**_ _trusted him. It was her own fault._

" _ **You**_ _did this!_ _ **You**_ _fucked up, Jimmy! I'm_ _ **done**_ _, okay?! Yer_ _ **lucky**_ _my dad doesn't fuckin'_ _ **kill**_ _you after the way you fucked him over. I've_ _ **never**_ _seen somebody steal from him like that an' walk away t'tell the story," Beth said, loud and furious._

 _He took another step closer but she stood firmly in her spot. She was still shaking, but it was from anger._

" _Yer dad's a greedy fuckin'_ _ **bastard**_ _," Jimmy said through gritted teeth, eyes ablaze with rage. He took two more steps closer until he was within arm's reach of her, and she stared up defiantly at him. "An' he won't do_ _ **shit**_ _._ _ **None**_ _of 'em will. Yer_ _ **all**_ _fuckin' guilty,_ _ **especially**_ _YOU. I'm all you fuckin'_ _ **got**_ _an' you_ _ **know**_ _it."_

 _Before she'd fully realized what she was doing, Beth had reached out and slapped Jimmy across the face as hard as she could. Her palm stung from the impact and she stared at him blankly, mouth agape. His cheek was blazing red and his eyes stared at her in utter perplexity._

 _She didn't know what overtook her. Even looking back on it, she couldn't explain to herself why she'd done such a thing. She'd stooped to his level and let her anger consume her, even though she knew she should've just walked away and never looked back._

 _But she was so_ _ **sick**_ _of letting him hurt her._

 _His face twisted from puzzlement back to unbridled rage and he reached out, wrapping his hand around Beth's throat and shoving her to the right and backwards, until her back slammed into the side of the truck._

 _She weighed practically nothing and he lifted her from the ground without a second thought, eyes bulging with anger as he gripped her throat tightly and pressed her against the hard metal of the truck. She reached up and clawed his hand with both of hers, kicking out wildly as her mind and heart raced and she gasped for air._

 _Finally, she was able to lift her foot and kick hard enough to hit him in the groin. His grip immediately loosened and he doubled over in pain, dropping her back to the ground. She landed on shaky feet but steadied herself quickly, and took her chance to slip away from him and try to run. But he reached out and grabbed her left arm before she could get more than two steps away, and she spun around with her right fist clenched, putting all her weight and strength into her right arm until she felt her knuckles connect with his face._

 _She had swung blindly and didn't know where she'd hit him until she pulled her arm back and prepared to swing again. His nose started bleeding and immediately began to swell and turn red. If he'd been angry before, he was furious now, and his grip on her arm tightened as he used the other hand to stop her mid-swing. Now he had both her arms held tightly in his hands, and his nose was bleeding down his face and dripping onto the ground and his navy blue shirt._

 _He was fighting to constrain her, though, as she swung wildly and kicked his shins repeatedly, yanking and pulling away as she tried to free her arms. He yelled and cursed, but she could barely hear him over the rushing blood in her ears and her own pounding heart._

 _Then he let go of her arm, but before she could hit him, he'd slapped her across the face even harder than she'd slapped him, leaving her dazed and her cheek stinging with pain. Her eyes immediately watered and she reeled, ceasing her struggle and looking back at him in horror. Her mouth stung and her lip was throbbing, and she could feel it starting to bleed._

 _Jimmy still looked furious, and Beth returned the look. She took advantage of their two seconds of disorientation to swing with her clenched fist again, making contact once more with his face._

 _He cried out in pain as she hit his eye this time, and she wasn't completely sure why she'd gone for another hit instead of trying to pull away. She readied herself to swing again, though, acting on the impulse to hurt him as much as possible. However, he was prepared this time, and despite his bleeding nose and swelling eye, he stopped her arm for the last time with one hand and let go of her other arm so that he could swing his other fist directly into her eye._

 _She stumbled back and nearly fell over from the force of the impact, feeling dazed. Stars sprinkled her vision for several seconds, and she tried to regain her balance and clear her eyesight. She could hear Jimmy's footsteps in the leaves approaching her again, and she stumbled backward, trying to get away from him quickly. Her eye stung and throbbed and she could feel it already beginning to swell._

 _He was saying something to her, but he still sounded aggravated and she knew that whatever he was saying didn't matter. She just wanted to leave here with her life._

 _He wasn't going to stop, and that was clear to her now._

 _Despite her disorientation, Beth managed to reach a hand back and grab the Beretta from her waistband, pulling it out and gripping it tightly with both hands. She held it in front of her and pointed it directly at Jimmy's chest, blinking a few times to clear the spots from her vision as she stared at him defiantly._

 _He stopped in his tracks and put both of his hands up, face dropping. The anger dissipated and she could see the fear in his eyes._

 _Her thumb moved to click off the safety. Then her index finger hovered over the trigger while she fought to keep her hands steady._

" _What the_ _ **fuck**_ _– is that_ _ **loaded**_ _, Beth?" He asked, and she could tell he was struggling to keep his voice from shaking._

 _She cocked it audibly, then aimed it up into the sky just long enough to fire off a round. Jimmy jumped from the sound and blinked in disbelief._

 _Beth cocked it again and resumed aiming directly at his chest, then muttered, "Yep."_

 _He furrowed his brow, the blood on his face beginning to dry as his left eye continued to swell. "What're you – "_

" _I'm_ _ **leaving**_ _," she said, making sure to speak loud and clear. "We're over. For_ _ **good**_ _. Don't come around – I can't promise that my family won't put you in the hospital. Or murder you. And if you go t'the police… I'll kill you_ _ **myself**_ _."_

 _He still looked like he didn't believe her, but she began taking slow and careful steps backward anyway. He didn't move to approach her, and she waited until she'd made it to the road to put down her arms and turn around to start running._

 _She didn't stop until she got to the front door of her house. Nor did she stop to notice that Glenn's car was back in its usual spot outside._

 _When she made it onto the porch and stopped to glance back, she saw that Jimmy hadn't followed her. She was still pumping with adrenaline and she panted, trying to catch her breath. Her heart pounded in her ears. The gun was still warm in her hand, and despite her shakiness, she clicked the safety on and tucked it back into her waistband._

 _She stood in front of the door for a few minutes, fighting to stop shaking and regulate her breathing. The outside air had become stifling._

 _She looked down at herself for the first time and saw that she had bloodstains all over her white cardigan as well as the yellow shirt beneath – though she didn't know how much of it was hers and how much was Jimmy's. The sleeves of her cardigan had ripped in several places from her struggle with him. She looked down at her hands and saw her knuckles were bruised and bloody and her fingernails still had Jimmy's blood and skin beneath them. The ends of her blonde hair were sticky with blood and sweat._

 _She could hear voices coming from inside the farmhouse, but she knew she had no choice except to enter. She wouldn't be able to avoid them at the back door either, so she tried to prepare herself as best she could before opening the door and stepping inside._

 _At first, she didn't see anyone, and she assumed everyone must've been in the kitchen. She shut the front door as quietly as she could and tried to step lightly across the floor, stopping at the end table in the hall to carefully open the drawer and place the Beretta back in its spot. Her hands were still shaking. But before she could even set it down inside the drawer, she heard footsteps quickly approaching from towards the kitchen and she looked up to see her sister._

" _Beth!" Maggie cried, stopping in her tracks and staring at the shocking sight of the young blonde, bloodied and bruised with a gun in her hand._

 _Beth stood, frozen, like a deer caught in headlights. Before she could try to speak, Maggie's puzzlement turned to anger._

" _Who_ _ **did**_ _that to you?! What the hell_ _ **happened**_ _?! Wh-where've you been?!" Maggie exclaimed, eyes wild as she looked Beth up and down._

 _She rushed to her little sister's side and grabbed the gun gingerly from her hand, setting it down inside the drawer before pulling her closer to inspect every exposed inch of her body._

 _The brunette turned her head toward the kitchen to yell out, "Dad! Get in here! It's_ _ **Beth**_ _!"_

 _Hershel appeared from inside the kitchen almost immediately, rushing down the hall to join Maggie at Beth's side. His eyes grew wide in fear, and then fury, when he saw the state of his youngest daughter._

 _Beth couldn't help it. She couldn't hold it back anymore. When she saw the concern on her daddy's face, her eyes welled up with tears and the guilt came back full-force._

" _Daddy – I-I'm sorry, you were right, you an' Maggie were both right," she choked out, tears pouring down her face._

" _Did you_ _ **shoot**_ _someone, Beth? Why did you have the gun? We heard a gunshot earlier – was that_ _ **you**_ _?" Maggie asked desperately. "Just tell us the truth, we wanna make sure you're_ _ **safe**_ _."_

 _Beth shook her head and then nodded. "No – I didn't – I didn't shoot anyone. It was a warning shot – I-I'm sorry, I got scared, I had no other choice. It… it was Jimmy… I broke up with him. I-I was still seein' him, but… I ended it. And we got… in a f-fight."_

 _She'd been looking down as she forced the words out, afraid to see her daddy's face. But once it was out, and she heard the gasp that came from Maggie, she looked up to see that his eyes were alit with burning rage. And she immediately knew that she'd just kindled a fire that couldn't be put out._

 _Maggie seemed at a loss for words, breathing out in shock and disbelief, "Bethy…"_

 _Hershel was silent for a second, then said quietly, and surprisingly calmly, "We don't_ _ **care**_ _that you were still seein' him… We care that he_ _ **hurt**_ _you."_

 _Hershel pursed his lips and Maggie stepped aside as he moved forward and wrapped his arms around Beth, pulling her in close and hugging her tightly. She buried her face in his chest and let the sobs wrack her body, her tears soaking his shirt._

 _He rubbed her back and shushed her, but she could feel that he was exchanging meaningful looks with Maggie._

 _After a few moments, he whispered out, right next to her ear, "Don't worry, baby girl. Daddy's gonna take care o' him... He won't_ _ **ever**_ _hurt you again…_ _ **No one**_ _will."_

* * *

The coffee proved to cure Beth's headache, and the conversation with Clem put her in a better mood. Nonetheless, once she got back up to the apartment and plopped down on the couch, she sunk deep down into the comfortable cushions and relaxed until she was dozing in and out of sleep.

After a couple hours of napping, she started to feel hungry. With the TV still on at a low volume, she got up and made herself a sandwich. She sat on the couch and ate while idly watching the local news. It had come on and she hadn't bothered to change the channel. It reminded her that she needed to check the Georgia news again, although she'd been grateful for the distractions throughout the day. She found herself obsessively checking for updates less and less, and she figured that had to be _some_ sort of an improvement.

Once she'd eaten and relaxed a bit more, she started feeling restless. There was nothing interesting on TV and the sun was slowly setting outside. She got up and turned on the living room light, then wandered into her bedroom and brought out the guitar.

Beth fiddled with the tuning machines and plucked the strings. After a little while, it started to feel familiar in her hands. She played around with tunes and sang softly, bouncing between songs without playing anything in particular. The minutes passed and she didn't even notice how dark the sky was becoming outside.

The sound of the front door being unlocked and opened startled her from the escapism, and she quickly set the guitar aside and sat on the couch. She didn't know why, but she felt embarrassed to be caught playing guitar all by herself while daydreaming. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was well past six. She'd been right in guessing that Daryl would come home to shower and get ready for his date.

When Daryl finally got inside the apartment and shut the door behind him, Beth appeared to be watching TV on the couch. She turned back to wave at him, and he returned it with a nod of acknowledgment. Then he turned and headed down the hall, motorcycle helmet still in hand.

She didn't see him again for about half an hour. She heard him thumping around at the end of the hall, and then heard the sounds of the shower in the bathroom, soon followed by the hairdryer. Beth stared at the TV but didn't really watch it.

When Daryl emerged again, he left the scent of musky soap and aftershave in his wake. The smell drifted through the apartment and as his footsteps approached the couch, it reached her nose and she felt that familiar flutter in her stomach.

Beth turned to see that Daryl was dressed much differently than she'd seen so far. He was still wearing his usual jeans, but this pair was so new and black that they didn't appear to be denim at first. He was also still wearing boots, but again, it was a new, black pair that Beth had never seen before. And instead of a cut-off Tee or a flannel, he wore a black blazer over a dark gray Henley. He was also freshly shaven, his facial hair trimmed and shaped to precision, and his hair was a little cleaner and more attentively brushed than usual.

"Alright, see ya later," Daryl called as he headed toward the door, keys and motorcycle helmet in hand.

"Not if it goes _really_ well," Beth joked, which made him stop and turn around to shake his head at her – though she could see the hint of a smile from behind his hair. She grinned playfully and added, "Good luck!"

He grunted in response and then left.

The apartment still smelled like his aftershave long after Beth heard his motorcycle start up and leave outside. She tried to go back to watching TV, but it proved to be much more difficult to focus now.

With a sigh of boredom, she grabbed her phone and checked the news sites, but found only national stories and more missing children in all the trending headlines. She double-checked the national news, squinting down at the screen as she scrolled through the list, to assure herself that her face wasn't popping up on people's television screens. She was grateful when she didn't find anything, but the entire search only killed about half an hour.

Beth wandered back to her guitar, picking it up and muting the TV so she could pick back up where she'd left off before Daryl had interrupted her. Well – he hadn't _really_ interrupted, if she were being honest. She was just feeling… weird, and vulnerable, and wasn't in the mood to have others hear her play. Or at least, that's what she was telling herself. She couldn't quite explain why she was suddenly feeling flushed and self-conscious around Daryl, and frankly, she didn't _want_ to explain it.

Now that she knew she'd have most of the night to herself, she became indulged in playing the guitar. Before long, her fingers were sore and a bit cut-up. Beth knew she'd have to build up some callouses, but with all the free time she had, it wouldn't take long. However, she took it as a sign that she should give it a rest for the night.

The guitar was returned to its corner in her bedroom while she took advantage of the open living room by sprawling out on the couch with a book. The windows were still open a crack and the cool, evening breeze blew in gently. The sun had finally sunk behind the horizon and the sky continued to grow darker as the evening turned to night. The clouds continued to pass through the sky while the moon glowed behind them.

After a few long chapters, Beth's eyelids grew heavy. She turned off the living room light until it was only the stove light in the kitchen and the dim flicker from the muted TV in the small, quiet apartment. The sounds of the city drifted in through the windows and lulled her into an effortless, dreamless sleep.

Beth hadn't even realized she'd given in to sleep until she was opening her eyes a few hours later. There was a bright light coming from the kitchen and she blinked rapidly, confused. She sat up and looked around to see that everything was exactly the way it had been before she'd fallen asleep, except that the kitchen light was on and someone was rustling around inside.

She wondered how she hadn't woken up to the sound of the front door as she sat up and stretched, then looked at the clock. It read 1:48. She got up and wandered to the hall, peering into the kitchen curiously.

Just as she expected, she found Daryl opening and closing cabinets. From the looks of the counter, it appeared he had bought a pizza on his way home and was making a very strong drink to go along with it.

"How'd it go?" Beth asked, stepping lightly into the kitchen and standing near the bar. Her curiosity made her completely forget about the fear of awkward tension between them, and it was clear to her now that she'd been overthinking.

Daryl grunted, but it sounded frustrated. He lifted his glass from the counter and took a sip, then turned around to face Beth. She quickly realized that if she'd been able to see his face before she'd asked how the date went, she would already have her answer.

"Oh," she said.

But he shrugged and gestured to the pizza box on the counter. "Want some? 'S still warm."

She nodded. "Sure, thanks."

Beth had learned enough about Daryl by now to know not to ask if he wanted to talk about the date. She was curious, but she could also sense the anger that was still radiating off of him. She would've assumed that coming home this late meant he had a good time, but he smelled like he'd spent the last few hours sitting at a bar.

They each grabbed a slice of pizza and a plate, and Beth started eating hers at the counter. Daryl sipped his drink and ate his own slice, scarfing it down and grabbing another while Beth was still working on her crust.

"Wanna drink?" Daryl offered through a mouthful of pizza, gesturing to the cabinet above the fridge with his free hand.

Beth shrugged. Rosita's party felt like a distant memory after all the naps she'd taken, and her stomach felt fine, albeit full of pizza. She'd started to think that these nightcaps were becoming another one of Daryl's many routines. But she didn't mind – she kind of enjoyed them.

"Yeah, why not," she mumbled after swallowing a mouthful of pizza crust and setting her plate aside.

Daryl nodded and went about making her a drink, though he didn't make it nearly as strong as his own. Beth washed and dried her hands quickly in the sink and turned around to find him holding the glass out for her to take.

"Thanks," she said, taking it carefully.

He nodded wordlessly.

For a second, Beth was afraid the smell would make her stomach turn, but after she raised it to her lips and took a small sip, she found that it went down smoothly and didn't bother her. She looked up from the clear liquid to find Daryl watching her intently, as though he'd forgotten that he was staring at her. She gave an awkward smile and he seemed to snap back to reality before quickly taking a drink from his glass and turning to head to the living room.

Beth pushed it from her mind despite the strange feeling it had given her. She took a longer sip of the alcohol, then turned and followed after Daryl.

He was sitting on the couch, and once Beth turned off the kitchen light, it was mostly dark again. The TV was the brightest source of light in the small living room, which Daryl had unmuted, but the volume was still low while he channel surfed. Beth sat down on the couch, leaving an empty cushion between them. She didn't think to turn on the living room light because Daryl seemed content with the dim glow of the television screen.

They sat silently on the couch, sipping their drinks every couple of minutes and watching the screen as Daryl flipped through channels. He wouldn't settle on any particular channel or show to leave it on. Beth didn't care since she didn't really want to watch commercials either, but she glanced over and noticed he was downing his drink pretty quickly and his finger was pressing the button on the remote a little more aggressively than usual.

She bit her lip, watching him from the corner of her eye as he grew frustrated, then calmed, then became visibly frustrated again. When he reached the bottom of his glass – Beth still had a quarter of a glass left – she watched him get up and practically stomp to the kitchen. She could hear him making himself another drink, and then his footsteps wandered down to the end of the hall and she looked over to see what he was doing. He disappeared inside his bedroom and she started to wonder if he'd given up and gone to bed for the night.

But he reemerged a couple minutes later, having changed from his date outfit into sweatpants, a tank, and socks. He grabbed his drink from the kitchen and went back to his spot on the couch, plopping down onto the cushion and getting comfortable again. Beth couldn't help but notice that he'd sat down a few more inches closer to her, leaving a larger space between him and the other end of the couch, while the cushion that had been separating them became only half a cushion of empty space.

 _Stop reading into things so much_ , she scolded herself as she took a long swig from her glass.

"Oh – need a refill?" Daryl asked, looking over.

"Sure," Beth agreed, holding out the glass for him to take. He set his own down on the coffee table and went to the kitchen.

He returned shortly and handed her the fresh drink, sitting back down in the spot he'd been.

"Thanks," she said with a small smile, and he nodded.

She noticed that he didn't bother to sit closer to the other end of the couch again. The empty space on the cushion was shrinking.

Daryl leaned forward and grabbed his drink, but left the remote where it was even though there was a commercial break playing on the TV. Beth sipped her drink tentatively and watched him, and before he spoke, she could sense that he was building up to it.

"Ain't ever goin' on a damn date again," he mumbled, still leaning forward on the couch with his legs spread comfortably. He cradled the glass of whiskey in both hands and gazed down into the liquid.

Beth held back a smirk. She'd known better than to ask him if he wanted to talk, but he'd been very obviously bursting with unspoken words for the last fifteen minutes. It hadn't taken her long to learn that what he didn't say with his mouth, he would say with his body language. And sometimes it was more observable than others.

The frustration and disappointment was evident in his voice, though, and Beth spoke softly when she said, "It was _that_ bad?"

Daryl huffed and took another swig of whiskey, then nodded. "Yeah. Couldn't stand her fer more than an hour. Mighta had Carol fooled, but she sure didn't put on an act for me. She's a dumb bitch."

Beth raised her eyebrows, surprised to hear him speaking like this about someone. It was making her grateful to be on his good side.

"Wow… what'd she do?" She asked.

He shook his head and sighed, then took another drink. He seemed to be slowly relaxing. "Nothin' in particular, jus' a real cunt."

Beth giggled, but abruptly stopped. She knew his frustration wasn't funny – she'd just been caught off-guard by his statement and it had immediately seemed funny to her. He turned his head and looked at her, and she covered her mouth with one hand.

"Sorry, that wasn't funny," she muttered, lowering her hand again.

But a smile formed on his lips and he chuckled. "What're you, _thirteen_?"

She smiled back and rolled her eyes playfully, "At heart. I didn't mean t'laugh, I just – I dunno, I've never heard you say that word before."

He shook his head as though she was just being silly, and she said more seriously, "Maybe she didn't do anythin' obvious, but… she must've been pretty bad if she made you _this_ upset."

He turned his head back to gaze down at his drink again, appearing thoughtful for a moment before he said, "Meh, she was jus'… a nosey bitch. Real rude to the server fer no damn reason. Poor girl was just tryin' t'do her job… An' then we're talkin' an' I think we can talk 'bout… I dunno, whatever. She rides bikes, too, figured that'd be somethin' if nothin'. We both got kids, that's some shit most women wanna talk about. But then it was all about her ex. Wouldn't fuckin' _shut_ _up_ about him."

Beth listened intently, watching him tap his fingers against the sides of his glass as he talked.

"Wow, she kinda _does_ sound like a cunt," she said quietly as he raised his glass to his lips for another swig.

He snorted and nearly choked on his whiskey, taking a moment to clear his throat and regain his composure before he turned to Beth with what she was now realizing was a drunken smile and said, "Alright, see – that word don't sound right comin' outta _your_ mouth. 'S actually funny when _you_ say cunt."

Beth giggled and felt the heat rising to her cheeks. Daryl had turned his body to face her on the couch and she shook her head, quickly taking another drink for the sake of having a distraction from her reddening face. Even in the dim glow of the TV, she could see that his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were watery, and she felt like he was smiling much more than he normally did. She also realized that she'd never seen him in this lighting or at this angle, and she glanced down to see that he had _Malachi_ tattooed over his heart in small script – making her wonder how she had never noticed before.

She tried to keep her eyes focused on his, though.

"Okay, so she talked about her ex… an' you didn't tell her t'shut up? Or did you take my advice and just leave?" She asked, trying to keep a straight face while she maintained eye contact.

His goofy smile faded and he shrugged but continued, "Nah, I mean – I sat there fer a while, tried t'turn it around. I really _did_ try t'give her a chance. But goddamn, she was unbearable… Didn't ask me shit about my kid, which is kinda weird 'cause he's part of the deal. All she wanted t'know was some stupid shit about my past. Kept askin' 'bout my parents an' my brother… Like I said, nosey bitch."

Beth furrowed her brow and her smile had disappeared completely. She asked, "Then what…?"

Daryl shrugged again, appearing a bit sheepish, but he continued anyway, "I dunno what it was, exactly. She said some stupid shit 'bout fathers and sons and started goin' back into how her ex an' her kid were so much alike. I was already 'bout two seconds from leavin' anyway, but then she tried t'say that all men are jus' like their dads, so I told her t'shut the fuck up already 'cause I was sick of hearin' about it. Then she said that I just proved her point… Started sayin' some other bullshit, but I didn't listen. Got up an' left. Went an' found the server and tipped her extra fer havin' t'deal with that cunt… Then I went t'the bar next door an' drank fer a few hours. Got a cab home… gonna have t'pick up my bike in the mornin', but I'd rather deal with that hassle than to have had t'sit an' listen to Ally talk fer another five minutes."

Beth's eyes were wide and staring at Daryl incredulously by the time he'd finished his story. He finally turned his head to meet her gaze and seemed to interpret her expression differently.

"I know, sounds stupid, probably don't make no sense," he said. "Maybe I was jus' bein' a dick 'cause she made a bad first impression. But… damn, I couldn't _stand_ her."

Beth shook her head, "No, I think it makes perfect sense. That all sounds… pretty _awful_. I – um, I woulda left, too, honestly."

He raised his eyebrows, seeming a bit surprised. He mumbled, "Ya think so?"

She nodded in affirmation and he glanced at the floor thoughtfully, then back to her.

"Don't want Carol to be disappointed, but I can't really help it," he said.

Beth shrugged. "She'll understand. Sounds like she hasn't talked to Ally much, or else she woulda been able to guess that you guys wouldn't get along."

Daryl smirked. "Yer probably right."

"'Cept I dunno if she'll wanna babysit overnight again," Beth joked with a half-smile.

Daryl furrowed his brow. "What d'ya mean?"

"Uh – the party? Tara asked you already, right?" She reminded him.

A look of recognition crossed his face. "Oh – that. Yeah, I dunno. Haven't really decided if I actually wanna go. Might stay home an' have a Marvel marathon with Mal. I jus' told Tara I would so she'd stop blowin' up my phone while I was workin'."

Beth suddenly felt a twinge of disappointment. "Oh – really? That sucks… I think Tara really wants me an' Clem to go, so I think I might take a cab or somethin'."

He raised his eyebrows. "You an' Clem – so ya got the coffee today?"

The memory of the coffee delivery earlier that day clicked in Beth's head and she quickly said, "Oh yeah – I forgot t'tell you thanks for that. I actually _really_ needed it. How much was it? I need t'pay you back."

Daryl gave a half-smile. "Don't worry 'bout it. An' I know Clem ain't doin' nothin' else with her time but homework anyway. Figured she wouldn't mind helpin' ya out."

Beth chuckled. "Yeah, I guess. We talked for a little while, Tara stopped by t'tell us about the surprise party. I probably would've forgotten about the text she sent me this mornin' otherwise."

"Huh, gettin' pretty friendly with the _help_ now, huh?" Daryl joked, making Beth laugh. She was beginning to enjoy this goofier, more open side of him.

"Yeah, ya know, your little power group of ladies that _you_ introduced me to," she said, grinning. "Ya should go. They seem t'really like you, ya know."

She thought she saw him blush before he turned his head and took another drink. Then he shrugged and said, "'Spose I could make an appearance. Ain't makin' any promises, though."

Beth smiled, "Just sayin', I'd rather ride on the back of a bike than in the back of a cab – but if ya don't wanna stay out past your bedtime, I understand."

He looked at her with a goofy, bewildered expression and said jokingly, "Alright, _Rosie_ , no need t'start the shit talkin' already!"

She laughed, but for a second, she wanted _so badly_ to hear him call her Beth.

"Like _you_ said, depends on whether Carol wants t'take the kid again," Daryl continued, pausing to take another drink. "Wouldn't blame her if she ends up pissed at me fer walkin' out on her bitchy friend."

Beth shrugged. "Jus' tell her what you told me about how it went. I don't see why she wouldn't understand."

He grunted indifferently and drained the rest of his glass, sitting forward on the couch again, then said, "Everybody ain't so understandin'… She's been tryin' t'set me up fer months..."

She didn't say anything, sensing that he had more to say about his bad evening.

There was a long pause, then his tone lowered as he went on, "Shit like tonight was why I always said no. Ain't like I haven't thought about it – all the datin' sites an' shit they got now… But I know how people are. Don't really see the need for puttin' myself through more disappointment than I need to… I knew better'n to get my hopes up, but that don't mean I didn't – eh, I dunno... Whatever. I ain't tryin' t'rant about it."

Beth pursed her lips and swallowed hard, watching him stare down into his glass and chew on his bottom lip thoughtfully.

"It's not easy t'find… other people like you. But that don't mean ya shouldn't try," she muttered, still staring at him.

He glanced at her and then back down to his empty glass, pausing for a moment in contemplation. "I'unno. Got lucky with my ex, I s'pose. Had a lot in common, met at the bar – of all places. Yeah, we fought, but we never gave up on each other... Not fer a while, anyway. Seems like ya can't find that anymore… Makes ya not even wanna try."

Beth shrugged, "Guess I couldn't really argue with that considerin' _my_ luck so far."

Daryl finally cracked a small smile and looked over to see Beth's drink was almost gone.

"Want another?" He asked, gesturing to the glass in her hand.

She looked down and realized she only had a sip left, so she nodded and handed the glass to Daryl as he stood up and headed to the kitchen.

She gazed blankly at the TV as a late night talk show played at low volume. She could hear the sounds of clinking glass and cupboard doors from the kitchen.

Then she heard Daryl's voice call out, "Still got that guitar?"

Beth turned her head toward the kitchen to see him walking toward her, two fresh drinks in hand.

She nodded, "Yeah, why?"

He held out her glass and she took it, then he paused in front of the couch and said, "Well, I ain't got a jukebox. Feel like playin' somethin'?"

She felt herself starting to blush again and said, "Um – sure."

He gestured for her to go grab it and she set her drink down on the coffee table before hopping up off the couch and going to her bedroom to retrieve the guitar. When she came back out, guitar in hand, she saw that he was standing at the coat rack by the door, fiddling with his leather jacket.

"Got any requests?" She asked playfully, stopping at the coffee table to take a quick swig from her glass for courage, then taking her seat back on the couch and situating herself with the guitar in her lap.

"Know any Tom Petty?" He asked, walking back to the couch to join her.

"'Course. Only a couple, though," Beth replied.

She had been looking down at the guitar when Daryl approached, and when she looked up, he was standing before her with something in his hand, holding it out for her to take. She looked at it quizzically, then realized it was a small package of three guitar picks.

"Almost forgot – grabbed these for ya," he grumbled, and she took the small, plastic pack from his hand. Their fingers grazed for a split-second and she felt that damned fluttering in her stomach again.

"Oh, wow. Thank you," she said, smiling. She looked up to see that he was avoiding her eyes and he sat back down on the couch, leaving a full cushion of space between them – but mostly because the guitar took up a lot of room.

"Ain't a big deal," he muttered as he grabbed his glass from the coffee table. "Jus' thought ya might need some. I know they can break pretty quick sometimes."

Beth couldn't seem to wipe the smile from her face. She ripped open the package and pulled out a brand new pick, then ran it across the strings enthusiastically.

"Alright," she started, finding the correct placement for her fingers on the frets as she began to strum the beginning chords of a familiar Tom Petty song, still smiling. Her head was starting to swim from the alcohol. "This one's fer you, Daryl."

He leaned back into the end of the couch so he could face her while she played, and she saw the sly smile on his face when she made her playful dedication. But he didn't tear his eyes away from her the entire time she played, clutching his glass in his hand and appearing captivated.

Beth lowered her eyelids and tried to focus on the swimmy feeling in her head rather than the pair of intense, dark blue eyes that were on her. As she strummed the chords and began to sing the song, she felt herself relaxing and opening up to the music.

" _She's a go-od girl, loves her mama… loves Jesus, and America too_ ," Beth sang softly. " _She's a go-od girl, crazy 'bout Elvis. Loves horses, and her boyfriend, too…_ "

She could still feel his gaze on her, but she was caring less and less. Her singing grew just a little louder with each line, and by the time she was at the chorus, she had put all her self-consciousness aside and became focused on the music pouring out of her.

"… _And I'm free-e-e… free fallin',"_ she sang, hands moving on their own accord. " _Yeah, I'm free-e-e… free fa-allin'…_ "

She still didn't dare raise her eyelids or her head to check Daryl's expression, but she could see his fingers tapping the sides of his glass rhythmically along with the song.

"… _All the vampires, walkin' through the valley… move west down Ventura Boulevard_ ," she sang, letting the emotion put itself into the words without fear of how she sounded. She almost forgot Daryl was there for a split-second. " _And all the ba-ad boys, are standin' in the shadows… And all the go-od girls, are home with broken hearts… And I'm free-e-e…_ "

When she got past the second chorus and began singing the next verse, she finally raised her head and looked back at Daryl, who still had his eyes locked onto her as she played and sang, " _I wanna glide down, over Mulholland… I wanna wri-ite her, name in the sky-y… I'm gonna fre-ee fall, out into nothin'… Gonna le-eave this, world for a while…"_

He still looked entranced by her, and he was nodding his head along to the music and tapping his fingers on the glass in his hands. By the time she got to the last chorus, he was mouthing some of the song along with her and acting like he was watching his own personal concert.

"… _And I'm free-e-e… Free fa-allin'…"_

Beth strummed the last chord and did a dramatic ending note before grinning goofily and laying the guitar down across her lap. Daryl immediately set his glass between his thighs and clapped drunkenly.

"Sorry, I know you probably weren't anticipatin' the most _basic_ Tom Petty song," she joked, setting the guitar down on the floor a few feet away so that it rested against the edge of the coffee table. She grabbed her glass and took a drink, finding her throat to be dry after all the singing.

He chuckled. "Nah, it was good. Even better than a jukebox."

She felt her cheeks growing hot again – which was really getting frustrating – and she smiled sheepishly. "Thanks."

Daryl smirked and nodded, then furrowed his brow as he gazed at her face, setting his sight on a spot just below her eyes. "What's – ? Ya got somethin' on yer face."

Beth gave him a quizzical look and reached a hand up to feel her cheeks, making an attempt at rubbing away whatever smudge he'd seen. "Did I get it? What is it?"

He laughed and scooted over closer to lean in, closing the arm's length of distance that had been between them. "Oh m'god, you _are_ thirteen, I think it's pizza sauce. Yer messier than my toddler!"

She laughed with him, "Okay, well I can't _see_ it!"

Still chuckling, he reached a hand up cautiously, "Here – lemme get it. 'S just a spot."

She paused and held completely still as he carefully pressed his thumb across her cheek, wiping away whatever smudge of pizza sauce had been there.

She was still smiling from the laughter, as was he, and now that he was so close to her, she could see how flushed his face was from the alcohol. She watched his smile fade as he hesitated, hand still hovering near her face.

"…Did you get it?" She asked quietly.

Beth didn't know what exactly happened next. She couldn't explain it – one second, they'd been laughing, and suddenly, everything was _different_.

Both their smiles disappeared, but their eyes were still locked in a deep stare. Daryl glanced at the spot on her cheek, but then he wasn't glancing at her cheek at all.

She saw his lips part as the words caught on his tongue.

He breathed out, barely more than a whisper, "Can I kiss you?"

Without a second thought, she whispered softly, "Yes."

And then he was leaning in, fingers gently touching the side of her face as he filled the space that separated them. She saw dark hair and hooded blue eyes, and then she closed her own eyes and smelled whiskey and leather and stale cigarettes.

Then his lips were on hers, but it felt like silk against her skin. He kissed her so softly and so gently that she leaned into him just to feel his whole mouth against hers. The fluttering in her stomach had morphed into a hurricane, and she felt like she was standing at the very top of the Empire State Building looking down.

Daryl's fingertips grazed the soft skin of her cheek and jawline, and she shivered against his touch. He pressed his lips against hers just a little harder, and she returned the gesture. At this point, she'd forgotten about the rest of her body as one hand clutched her drink absent-mindedly and the other rested on her lap.

Her heart was pounding against the inside of her chest, and the hair on Daryl's face tickled, but not enough to bother her. She couldn't think of anything else except _this_ exact moment. All the nagging voices before, everything inside her that had told her _no_ , _stay away_ , _don't let yourself think like that_ were all silenced and sleeping right now.

She didn't know how much time passed. It all felt like an eternity and a fleeting moment at the same time. But after a bit, Daryl began to part his lips and she had already been thinking of doing the same. His tongue found its way past her lips and his fingers took grasp of the side of her face just a little more intently. She leaned into it and allowed their tongues to dance together inside their mouths while he held the side of her face, his hair grazing and tickling her other cheek. His hand was calloused but warm and inviting against her skin. Goosebumps appeared all over her arms and didn't go away.

Daryl's breathing grew heavier, as did Beth's, and their kiss grew deeper and deeper. She felt the familiar tingling between her legs, and the subsequent ache, but her mind couldn't focus on anything except Daryl's mouth. Then she felt his hand let go of her face and drift downwards until it was resting on her thigh, a few inches above where her own hand rested.

And then his warm fingers were slowly, purposefully inching their way up to the warmth between her legs.

Beth didn't consciously object to his attempt. In fact, the deepest part of her was absolutely _begging_ for it.

But her body reacted on its own, and before she could think about it or approach it gently, she found herself jumping back on the couch – breaking their kiss and jerking away from Daryl, as though she'd just had an electrical shock.

Her eyes flew open and she found him staring at her, frozen, his hand still held out as he tried to process what had happened.

The look on her face must've explained everything – even though she didn't particularly _want_ it to – because Daryl's face fell and he immediately looked apologetic.

"I – I'm sorry," Beth choked out, her lips still tingling. She was instinctively clenching her legs together but didn't know why, and now her heart was beating rapidly from fear rather than excitement.

Daryl pursed his lips and shook his head. "No – it was my bad. I'm – s-sorry, I shouldn't've…"

A tightness was swelling in her chest and she felt the horrible shame falling down upon her. Seeing the look on Daryl's face and knowing she had no way of explaining how she _really_ felt was already making her feel terribly guilty.

She should've never let him get so close. She should've known better.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words left her as soon as she did so, "I…"

Daryl watched her and waited to hear what she'd say, but when he realized she was even more speechless than he was, he looked away awkwardly and stood up.

"I – uh – gotta get t'bed," he muttered, setting his glass down on the coffee table and turning to head for the hall. "'Night."

A couple of seconds later, she heard his bedroom door slam shut.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** So I think this was my first time EVER writing a Bethyl first kiss during a slow burn. Let me know what you think about how it came out!  
And as always, let me know if you spot any mistakes or inconsistencies that I may have overlooked! Thanks for reading :)


	20. in my face's flashing signs

_**in my face's flashing signs;**_

Beth awoke Friday morning to the sound of police sirens loudly wailing down a nearby street outside. Her heart was racing and instinctively, she panicked for the first few seconds after opening her eyes, nausea rising in her throat. But once she'd sat up and looked around, she quickly remembered that she was safe. Or at least, for the moment.

Before even checking the clock, she reached over and grabbed her phone to check the news. A couple of minutes of searching later, though, she realized there were no new updates. And her story, or her face, hadn't gone national yet. There was also nothing new to be said for her family's court proceedings while they sat in prison and awaited their arraignments.

She managed to reassure herself enough to keep the panic at bay, and gradually relaxed as the police sirens faded away and she sat in the peaceful quiet of the empty apartment. But the anxious nausea wasn't subsiding, and she started to think it was a side effect of the night before – even though she hadn't ingested very much alcohol. She shook her head as if to clear away the paranoid thoughts of the police catching up to her or anyone recognizing her, and checked her text messages in an attempt to distract herself.

It was close to ten in the morning, but she had a text from Daryl that had arrived an hour ago. Beth saw that, below it, she also had a text from Clem – since they had exchanged numbers the day before. But she tapped on Daryl's message first and read:

 _Sorry about last night. I can be a real dick when I'm drunk. Won't happen again. Promise._

She felt a twinge in her stomach and grimaced. Beth didn't even want to _think_ about what had happened last night. Not after lying in bed nearly all night, doing exactly that. So she tapped the screen to exit and opened Clem's text instead.

It had arrived not long ago, so Beth assumed she had just woken up, or maybe she was in class or something. The text said, " _I feel like looking pretty for the party tomorrow. Want to get ready together?"_

Beth typed out a response, agreeing to the meeting if it meant Clem would meet Beth at Daryl's apartment, and hit Send. She was also kind of hoping that this way, she could travel to the party with Clem and not have to get a ride from Daryl. And that was assuming he'd even be going at this point.

She couldn't say she was hoping he'd skip the party altogether, because she didn't want that either. Honestly, she wasn't totally sure _what_ she really wanted. She just knew that it was likely to feel awkward being alone with Daryl now. But that didn't mean she didn't want to be around him anymore. In fact, she wanted the opposite of that. She just really, _really_ didn't want to confront the way he made her feel, and how vulnerable she was becoming around him…

Beth tried to think about other things, but even with all the shit that was piled onto her plate over the last two weeks, she couldn't get Daryl's text out of her mind. She wanted to reply, but she didn't know how to explain it in simple terms, and she didn't want him to think she was crazy. She already felt guilty, but she didn't know what to say. He was trying to be mature and apologize so things wouldn't be weird, and she appreciated it, but at the same time, she didn't feel right knowing he felt that he'd made a mistake or done something wrong. It was just as much her own fault for leading him on. And it wasn't like a big part of her didn't _want_ exactly what he'd been suggesting.

Clem texted back after less than half an hour and then Beth texted back and forth with her for a short time, planning what time to meet and discussing how Clem was waiting for her next class to start while Beth explained that she'd just woken up and was still lying in bed. Then, to her dismay, Clem asked, " _So did Daryl come home from his date last night?_ "

Beth frowned to herself and texted back, " _Yeah. It didn't go well._ "

A couple minutes passed and Beth knew it was nearing the time for Clem's next class to start. But then another text arrived: " _Uh oh. Did I call it? Sucks tho. He say anything about it ?_ "

Beth hesitated for a second, then gave in and answered, " _I'll tell you about it tomorrow._ "

She couldn't explain why, but she had the strong urge to confide in Clem about her kiss with Daryl. She didn't have anyone else that she could really tell, and after their time spent together the day before, Beth felt more and more comfortable with Clem. She also sensed that Clem noticed more than she was letting on, or maybe she knew more than she would say. Either way, Beth knew she wouldn't be able to hide it for long. And if anyone could help her understand it, it might be Clem.

Beth was afraid to think of how Carol might react if she found out. Especially right after she had tried to set Daryl up with someone who'd be right for him.

Another text from Clem came in, and she said, " _Oooh :) ok sounds good. G2G to class, ttyl._ "

Beth read it and quickly replied, " _K see you tomorrow."_

She started to regret saying that. Maybe she should've acted ignorant of the situation entirely, or lied and said she'd fallen asleep and didn't know if Daryl came home or not. She decided she'd try not to let it _completely_ torture her over the next day, and by the time she was face-to-face with Clem and having a discussion, she'd have decided whether she wanted to confide in her or not.

When she finally got tired of lying in bed, Beth got up and headed to the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and ran a warm bath. While the tub filled with water, she went to the kitchen and found that Daryl had left her half a pot of coffee. It was cold by now, though, and she poured it down the drain before turning on the coffeemaker and preparing it to brew a fresh batch. Then she went back to the bathroom to strip down and submerge herself in the warm, bubbly water.

A few minutes in, as she was scrubbing her scalp and massaging shampoo into her hair, the smell of coffee began to drift through the apartment. She finished washing and lay back in the tub for a short while, thinking of all the possible things she could text back in reply to Daryl. Then the image of his hooded, blue eyes and shaggy, dark hair getting closer to her face flashed in her mind, and she slid down in the tub until her head was fully submerged.

With damp hair and clean clothes over her clean skin, Beth wandered back into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. She walked to one of the windows in the living room, finding them all to still be open a crack to let in the cool, fresh air from outside. The humidity was mild and the rain had stopped, but there were still passing clouds and a particularly cold breeze blowing in from the Atlantic. The sun shone brightly nonetheless, and Beth opened the window just a little wider to feel the temperate weather. A light draft blew in and through her damp hair, sending a chill down her spine. She watched the street outside, trying to avoid looking at Daryl's face in the many photos on the walls around her.

She was nearly done with her cup of coffee when she finally admitted to herself that the nausea wasn't subsiding. With each sip, her stomach was gurgling more and more angrily, and told herself it had to be brought on by all the anxiety. She took the rest of her coffee to the kitchen and left the mug sitting on the counter, then poured herself a glass of ginger ale and went back to her bedroom.

Beth sipped the beverage slowly and relaxed into bed, leaving her bedroom door open and breathing in the fresh air that was circulating through the apartment. Her phone was silent while Clem attended college and Daryl's text remained unanswered. From what she'd read in Irma's text the day before, she and Dale were halfway across the country right now, probably stopping in Branson, Missouri to do some elderly tourist things. And as always, Carol was right across the hall with Malachi – or maybe she'd taken him to the park to enjoy the nice weather. Either way, Beth had solitude to enjoy for a while.

As she lay on her bed, eyes closed and hands folded across her tummy, she started daydreaming. Her body was relaxed and she was breathing steadily, and she thought if she lay like this much longer, she'd probably start dozing off. Not that it mattered, because she wanted to keep the impending caffeine headache at bay anyway.

Beth couldn't hear anything except the faint city noises drifting in from the open windows, and her own breathing. Her mind wandered from the constant nagging worry of the news and police, to the self-defense class, to the girls she'd met there, which made her think back on her conversations with Clem the day before. And then it brought her right back to thinking about Daryl and that text sitting in her messages inbox…

And if she were being totally honest with herself – everything aside for just a second – she was going to have to admit that there was something between them.

Then her mind was back on the kiss the night before, and the whirlwind of emotions that had turned her stomach to mush, and she started to wonder if _that_ was the reason for her nausea today. He had… at the risk of sounding cliché, quite literally taken her breath away. And even if she didn't want to admit it to herself, she was _secretly_ admitting it to herself. She just couldn't seem to explain why she'd jolted away so quickly, and why it had made her physically sick.

If she could explain it (which she probably could, honestly), she _wasn't_ going to admit _that_ one to herself. Instead, she lingered on the vivid memory of Daryl's soft lips against hers, his prickly mustache and goatee, and the musky scent that she could now only attribute to his presence. In that brief moment (had it lasted two seconds or two hours? She still couldn't tell), everything had fled her mind and her body had taken over, and she'd felt that natural high that was only attainable through inimitable firsts – like a first kiss with someone you were secretly (and unwillingly) attracted to.

But as the memory played over and over in her head, her eyelashes fluttering as a familiar warmth tingled outwards to her limbs, she wasn't picturing Jimmy's terrifying face, nor was she reliving the fear and helplessness she'd felt on August Eleventh.

Instead, Beth felt that warmth balling up inside her, and the tension reached the spot between her thighs. And then her lips were parting instinctively in wordless gasps, and her hand was wandering down below her tummy, slipping beneath her waistband and down her panties to the soft patch of curls. And without really thinking about what she was doing, her fingers drifted farther down and touched that spot where all the built-up tension seemed to be residing.

The world around her faded away and soon, Beth was living in the memory from last night while her fingers moved on their own accord. Her breathing quickened and her face grew hot. She finally imagined the second after the kiss – the feeling of his rough fingers inching their way up, over the thin material of her pants and across her inner thigh…

This time, she didn't jerk away. She didn't start the kiss over, or pretend he hadn't touched her anywhere except her face. No – she imagined his hand there, and she imagined herself staying still and allowing him to wander. She tried to picture how it would feel if his fingers touched her bare skin, or simply slipped between her thighs to rest there for a few seconds. She imagined his calloused fingers on the soft skin under her shirt, inching their way up and up…

Her hand was moving vigorously now, but she wasn't paying any attention. Her body was in control, as well as her imagination, and her nausea wasn't even an afterthought for the time being.

Beth tried to imagine herself working up enough courage to reach her own hand out and touch Daryl's bare, warm chest. Or to let it rest in his lap, lingering inches away from a discreetly growing bulge. But she couldn't get past the taste of his mouth and the way her skin prickled with goosebumps at the mere thought of his fingers touching her _there_.

Then she felt it mounting inside her, and the pressure built and built until she thought she might explode. Her hand didn't stop, but neither did her imagination. She could still feel his tongue on hers, if she focused hard enough…

And then it was rushing through her, completely wiping her mind blank for a fleeting moment. She breathed out in relief, her muscles relaxing into the bed and her lips dry. She pulled her hand back and sighed deeply, lying motionless and drained for a few minutes.

After a trip to the bathroom and another long sip of ginger ale, Beth found the nausea rising back up in her throat, and she lay back down in bed. She drifted in and out of sleep for hours. She kept telling herself that she would figure out the right thing to say in response to Daryl – something casual and polite, so he would know she wasn't upset but that she also wasn't trying to make their relationship more complicated than it needed to be.

But sleep overtook her before she could find the motivation to grab her phone and type out any kind of an apology.

* * *

When Beth's eyes fluttered open again, the apartment was dark. She could hear the front door rattling and knew that Daryl was just getting home. She came to and managed to get out of bed and move to shut her bedroom door before he and Malachi had fully entered the apartment. Then she lay back down and listened to their muffled voices move through the living room, the hall, and back to the bedroom.

She didn't glance at the clock until she got uncomfortable and rolled over. Then she realized it was 7:26.

 _A bit later than he usually gets home,_ Beth thought. _But maybe he had extra work to finish._

She tried to put it out of her mind and closed her eyes again.

About half an hour passed before there was a knock at her bedroom door. All her lights were off and she'd been dozing, so she lay still and kept her eyes closed. Another knock came, still soft but loud enough to wake someone up, and she ignored it as well. She could hear Malachi's voice from somewhere in the living room, but she didn't feel like having dinner with them right now, or trying to talk to a chatty toddler while his dad stood awkwardly aside and pretended he wasn't holding in a million words. Plus, her appetite was nonexistent today, and she felt exhausted for no particular reason.

She heard Daryl grumble something from outside her door, but she couldn't make out what it was. She didn't hear another knock for the rest of the night, though.

Beth slept through the sounds of Malachi's bath and bedtime routine, and then she slept through most of the night, too. The only other thing she remembered was opening her eyes to see 2:17 displayed on the clock, and then hearing familiar sounds that resembled Daryl's footsteps padding across the floor from the living room to his bedroom before she heard a door firmly clicking shut.

* * *

Beth awoke early the next morning, even before the sun was up. She tried to force herself to go back to sleep, at least until it was time to get ready for the class, but her body had suddenly decided it was fully recharged today. When she sat up, she waited for the nausea to hit as the familiar feeling was rising in her throat. But then a couple of minutes passed and she found herself feeling fine, albeit a tad thirsty.

She got up and quietly tiptoed into the kitchen for a glass of water, since she'd already finished all her ginger ale. The apartment was dark and silent, just like always, and the stove light was on in the kitchen – again, just like always. Beth got herself a glass of water, then opened the fridge and glanced inside to see a covered plate that hadn't been there the night before.

She reached in and carefully uncovered one of the corners, finding a pre-portioned plate of steak, mashed potatoes, and broccoli. The realization hit her that Daryl had made her a plate for dinner and all she'd done was ignore his knocks at her door. Not only that, but Malachi had probably anticipated some reading time.

 _Did they read the next chapter without me?_ She thought.

The guilt came back full-force, and she retreated to her bedroom to lie back down until the sun was up.

Based on the previous Saturday, Beth predicted about what time Daryl and Malachi would be getting up to start getting ready for class, and she made sure to get into the bathroom and back out before they'd even opened their bedroom door. So by the time she could hear their voices drifting into the kitchen, she was already brewing a pot of coffee.

She went to her bedroom and shut the door to get dressed while the aroma of coffee slowly filled the small apartment. She put on a similar outfit to the week before – black leggings, a loose-fitting tank over a sports bra, and sneakers. She grimaced when she slipped the sports bra over her breasts, finding them unexpectedly sore. She brushed it off as a PMS symptom, knowing she must be due for her period any day now, and continued getting ready for class.

Beth could hear Daryl and Malachi's voices getting closer, and she noticed they sounded agitated. It seemed Malachi was feeling particularly whiny this morning, and Daryl's voice was all grunts and tired, frustrated groans.

She gathered up the Beretta, pocket watch, and photo from beneath her pillow and shoved them into the bag amongst the wads of cash. She pulled out a few bills to keep on her, tucking them into the bottom of her shoe. Then, after having idly thought about it for most of the night, she placed the bag carefully in the back corner of one of her dresser drawers, covering it with clothes. She shut the drawer tightly and walked away to join the boys in the kitchen, telling herself it was safer to keep all that money and evidence stashed here than to be carrying it around everywhere she went. Besides, by now, she was pretty sure there wouldn't be any reason for her to have to make an escape from Daryl's self-defense class.

When Beth emerged from her bedroom and crossed the hall to enter the kitchen, she passed Daryl, heading straight for the freshly brewed pot of coffee. As she passed him, she caught his scent, even over the strong smell of coffee. It made her knees quiver for a split-second, and she turned away so as not to make eye contact while she retrieved a mug and filled it with the hot, dark liquid. From her peripherals, she saw him glance at her and hesitate, as though he was going to speak, but then decide against it and turn back to preparing Malachi's breakfast.

Her appetite hadn't fully returned just yet, so Beth grabbed a package of Pop-Tarts from the cabinet and put them in the toaster while she sipped her coffee. The silence was suddenly heavy, and even Malachi's whining wasn't hiding the palpable tension that had formed between them. Beth jumped when the toaster popped up, startled. But she tried to play it off and hoped Daryl hadn't noticed while she grabbed her pastries and a paper towel and took her breakfast to the table.

"Da-ad, I want waffles!" Malachi whined, tugging on Daryl's pant leg and hovering around him as he tried to mix up batter in tense silence. "I'm hungwy, Dad! _Dad_! Da-a-ad, I need _waffles_ – "

"Mal!" Daryl finally snapped, his voice raised but not close to yelling as he tried to channel his patience and turned his head to talk to his small son directly. "I know, bud, okay? I'm workin' on it. Damn, ya gotta gimme a minute, I didn't get no Eggos for ya."

Malachi whimpered at this and started forcing himself to cry, and Beth looked down at her coffee. She could tell from his body language alone that Daryl was reaching the end of his rope. She could only imagine how difficult the toddler had been earlier in the morning when he had to get up and get dressed, and she was surprised Daryl had the patience to mix up waffles when he could have just as easily shoved a bowl of cereal in front of Mal and told him to like it or lump it.

Daryl was pursing his lips at this point as he tried to focus on pouring the batter into the waffle iron while his son continued tugging on his pants and exaggeratedly crying over literally nothing. Then there was a knock at the front door, and Beth jumped up to answer it, leaving her coffee and remaining Pop-Tart on the table. She opened the door to find Carol and Sophia, the former with a kind smile on her face and the latter refusing to look up from the phone in her hands.

"Good morning," Carol greeted warmly, while Sophia didn't even glance up.

"Mornin'," Beth smiled tersely, then stepped aside to let the two neighbors into the apartment, shutting the door behind them.

Carol was dressed in similar clothing to the other girls in the class – yoga pants, old T-shirt advertising a high school play from 1996, and worn tennis shoes over the typical, middle-aged woman white socks, as well as a light hoodie left unzipped. Sophia was dressed in her own version of that, but her shirt advertised a band that Beth had admittedly never heard of and she was wearing a long sleeve shirt under a hoodie, as well as sweatbands to cover her wrists. The twelve-year-old also wore her hair down, and it appeared she was taking pride in growing it out, long and thick, and swooping it over to cover half her face. Beth wondered if Carol cut her daughter's hair, too.

"Hey, how ya feelin' this morning?" Carol greeted Daryl as she approached him in the kitchen. Sophia stood by the front door, still staring at her phone, while Beth went back to her seat at the table to finish her breakfast.

But she could hear Daryl grunt in response, and then mumble, "Alright, I guess. Ain't nothin'. Kid's just bein' whiny as all hell today."

"Ca-arol!" Mal said, tears still in his eyes and soaking his cheeks as he let go of his dad and turned to walk to Carol.

"Hey, kiddo – are we havin' a bad morning?" She asked, her voice changing to sound a little higher and friendlier as she squatted down to Malachi's level.

The toddler shook his head and Beth looked back down at her coffee and the last couple of bites of her Pop-Tart. She was starting to think that Daryl hadn't been late the night before because of work. And now she was feeling that dreadful pang, and she didn't know whether it was jealousy or paranoia or both.

 _How much did he tell her?_ She thought, chewing the Pop-Tart slowly while Daryl and Carol talked in low voices in the kitchen, just quiet enough that Beth couldn't overhear from where she sat.

Then Daryl's voice got a little louder, and Beth didn't know if he was snapping at Carol or Malachi. She heard Malachi's whines turn to sobs within seconds, and then Daryl was audibly losing his patience.

"Ya wanted damn waffles, I made ya _damn_ waffles! What d'you _want_ from me?!" He said, his voice raised and just short of yelling, but sharp and angry enough to make even Beth feel guilty.

Malachi's sobs then turned to full-blown crying – _loudly_ – and Daryl huffed angrily. Beth craned her neck to see into the kitchen and try to hear what was going on. She had yet to see Daryl lose his temper like this.

Carol quickly intervened and grabbed the toddler's hand, as well as the plate from Daryl's hand, and led Malachi out of the kitchen and to the empty seat at the table. She shushed Malachi and encouraged him to calm down and eat his breakfast so that he would feel better, and he slowly quieted down and stopped crying and sniffling.

Beth had finished her Pop-Tarts and was still sipping on her coffee, watching with wide eyes. Carol looked up and finally noticed, but gave a reassuring smile, like it was nothing unusual.

She shrugged and leaned in closer to mutter quietly to Beth, "He was crying because he wanted waffles, and then he was crying because he _got_ waffles. Dad's havin' a rough couple of days."

Beth nodded, giving Carol a look that assured her she didn't owe any explanation to Beth, then Beth mumbled something she'd heard her momma say a thousand times before: "Takes a village."

Even though she was silently wondering what was causing him to have such a rough couple of days. The old adage poured out of her mouth like a forgotten habit.

Carol glanced back to Daryl, who was slamming some pots and pans around as he gathered up the dirty dishes and prepared himself a bowl of cereal. Then she looked back at Beth and nodded, eyebrows raised.

"Ain't that the truth."

* * *

Beth, Daryl, Carol, Sophia, and Malachi were the first ones to arrive to class after a short walk through the neighborhood. The temperature was still mild outside and there were still clouds in the sky, but the sun was shining brightly. The group hadn't needed to zip up their jackets during the walk, and by the time they got to the gym, Beth was ready to strip hers off.

Daryl unlocked the door with his key and let everyone step inside ahead of him. Beth followed Carol and Sophia to the lockers area while Daryl and Malachi lagged behind, taking off their jackets and shoes. Carol took Beth's jacket and phone for her and stuffed it into her locker, and Sophia stood off to the side, shoes and jacket already off while she stared at her phone and occasionally texted. Beth glanced at the young redhead's wrists, but quickly looked away.

Daryl led Malachi around and had him help pull all the mats down and set them out across the gym floor. Clem and Enid arrived soon after, announcing that Tara and Rosita were following close behind. And sure enough, within a couple of minutes, the two twenty-somethings entered together, giggling at a joke they'd shared outside.

The girls made their rounds to say hello to Daryl and Malachi and Carol, and when they got to Beth, they ended up crowding around her and chatting casually while stripping off their shoes, bags, and jackets. Beth glanced over at Daryl, on the far side of the gym, and saw that he was looking at her, then at the girls that had welcomed her as their own. For a brief moment, she thought he had an expression of concern on his face, but then he was turning away and going back to rolling out mats and teaching Malachi how to be helpful.

Clem greeted Beth warmly and stood between her and Enid, who also greeted Beth with a smile and a kind, "Hey, what's up?"

Tara was obviously excited for the upcoming party and having a difficult time keeping it in, but Rosita was still clueless.

As the rest of the class gradually arrived through the front door and filled the gym, Daryl and Carol wandered to the front of the room and started discussing the plan for the day with plenty of hand motions. Malachi was set up in his usual corner with an array of coloring books and toys, and he seemed to be done misbehaving for the time being – or at least while Carol was around.

The girls' chatter died down and they all went to their usual spots near each other. This time, though, Clem stood next to Enid and pulled Beth over to stand on her other side. A few feet in front of them was Tara standing next to Rosita.

As they waited for Carol and Daryl to begin, Rosita turned around and whispered to the other girls, "So, we're all going to Tara and Denise's tonight…?"

The girls exchanged looks, but Tara gave them all a quirked eyebrow that said, 'Go with it.' So they nodded, still glancing at each other. But Rosita seemed to think nothing of it, because she looked back to Tara and shrugged.

"Can I bring Austin?" She asked Tara.

Tara furrowed her brow, "Why would I give a shit? Of _course_ you can bring him."

Beth suppressed a laugh and Rosita smirked, then the girls turned their attention back to Carol as she began to speak to the class.

With Carol back, Beth found that Daryl chose to take the backseat more often than not. He acted as more of a demonstration assistant than a teacher. Until it was time to help correct people's positioning and movement, of course. Then he was hands-on and willing to teach each pair of students, making his rounds through the classroom to check on everyone's progress. Beth thought his smirk looked rather satisfied when he came around and saw her demonstrating a proper disarming on Enid, just like they'd been taught last week. But he didn't spend long hanging around them, because they were moving on to the next lesson soon.

As Beth stood and watched Carol demonstrate how to defend after being knocked to the ground, she started to think back on the morning so far and their walk to class. She realized that Daryl hadn't even spoken two words to her yet.

Which made her wonder if he could he really be upset that she hadn't said anything to him the day before. Part of her wanted to attempt to apologize and explain that she hadn't been feeling well, but another part of her didn't want to risk his reaction, afraid he'd think she was trying to be too serious about things and make their living situation awkward when they could just forget it ever happened.

It took Beth nearly the whole class to figure out how to properly defend herself from the floor. She ended up so distracted and wrapped up in practicing with Enid and Clem, trying to get them to help her figure out what she was doing wrong, that she put the situation with Daryl out of her head. By the time he was making his last rounds and had reached them, she was sweaty and red-faced, and her ankles were all red from where the other girls had been grabbing her.

Daryl stood back, hands behind his back, as he watched Clem successfully kick Enid away, and then vise versa. But when it came time for Beth to duplicate the action, she couldn't seem to get her hips to move in quite as drastic of a way as the other girls could. She looked up from the ground, lying on her back with her knees still bent while Clem clutched her ankles, successfully stopping her from harming anyone, let alone a potential rapist or mugger. Then she looked over to see Daryl's expression, and found him staring down at her thoughtfully, stroking the hair on his chin like he always did.

"'Lright, see, ya ain't movin' yer hips quite right," he said, moving to stand near her head and lean down until he was hovering over her, his face appearing upside-down to her.

Beth suddenly became very conscious of his body and just how close he was. He leaned down farther, reaching his hands out toward her hips, and she inadvertently held her breath.

"'S it – okay? If I put m'hands here so I can show ya?" He asked quietly, and she wasn't sure if anyone else was able to hear him.

She nodded silently, and he hesitated, then slowly slipped his hands beneath her hips until they were wedged between her back and the mat on the floor. The goosebumps sprung to life all over her skin. The stomach flutters were back, too.

Enid resumed attempting to attack Beth from where she stood, and Daryl gently showed her the proper movement she needed to achieve before she could properly kick, jump up, and defend, while she tried to focus on getting her body to cooperate. But it seemed that it would take a bit more practice. Daryl gave her some encouraging words and helpful tips nonetheless.

When he'd finished helping her, he reached out a hand and helped her up from the floor. His palms were sweaty, but so were hers. She smiled and let her hand linger in his palm just a second longer than was necessary, then pulled it back and nodded.

"Thanks," she muttered quietly.

Daryl pursed his lips with a brief nod and walked away, back to the front of the class. Beth hoped she was the only who noticed when his eyes lingered on her just a little longer than usual.

Beth forced herself to concentrate, and tried not to think about the very curious eyes of Clem and Enid that were on her right now.

After Daryl headed back to the front of the class, the girls returned to their spots and listened as Carol and Daryl concluded the day's lesson. They invited everyone to return the following Saturday, promising a more in-depth lesson on ground defense. Then the chatter rose in the gym again, and people started moving about to gather their things and leave.

Beth saw Malachi was still coloring in the corner, and Sophia had stood in a corner of the class by herself, practicing alone when Carol wasn't walking over to coach her and help her practice. Sophia was one of the first to return to the lockers and retrieve her phone and shoes. Daryl went straight to Malachi to get him ready to leave, and Carol went back to the lockers.

"How'd you like it?" She asked Beth, handing over her jacket and phone from inside the locker.

Beth took them, slipping her jacket on and the phone back into her pocket. "It was fun. I think I liked it more'n last week."

Carol smiled as she sat down and slipped on her tennis shoes, tying them. The other girls were standing near the door, talking with each other, and seemed to be waiting to say goodbye before they all parted ways.

"I'm gonna tell Daryl that I'd like to take Mal for the night," Carol said, standing up and leaning in a little closer to Beth. "Sophia's sleeping over at a friend's and the house gets too quiet for my liking... And – I think he needs a night out. With friends. Not on blind dates, where he feels pressured."

Beth nodded, and she was pretty positive that they were both thinking about earlier that morning, when Daryl had snapped at Malachi. Beth figured he must've told Carol how badly the date went – but she wondered if he'd told her about the last half of the night. She wasn't going to ask.

She wasn't going to speak it aloud, either, and remove any doubt. Instead, she simply said, "That sounds nice."

Carol narrowed her eyes, like she was studying Beth's face a little closer than usual, then went back to smiling politely and asked, "Are you still going? You feelin' alright?"

Beth looked quizzical, taking a half-step back. "Yeah – why?"

"Oh, maybe it was the class, I guess," Carol said. "But you look a little flushed, maybe sick. Do you feel hot?"

Beth shook her head, then glanced toward the door and the small group of girls waiting beside it. "No, I feel fine."

Carol nodded, but Beth could see that she had things she wanted to say or ask. Beth wasn't sure she wanted to hear any of them, though.

"Mom, can we _go_?" Sophia asked, appearing behind Beth.

 _Thank God_ , Beth thought.

Carol turned her attention to Sophia and nodded. "Yes, honey. We're going."

Beth bid the pair goodbye and took her chance to slip away. She walked over to the girls standing by the front door, approaching Clem while she waited for Daryl to finish getting Malachi ready. Clem gave her a knowing look and Beth returned it with a creased brow and a crooked half-smile.

"What?" Beth asked.

Rosita and Tara seemed to be having a discussion with Enid about her classes in school, and Clem leaned away from them to talk quietly to Beth.

"What was that?" Clem asked, smirking playfully.

Beth repeated, "What? What're you talkin' about?"

Clementine snickered and continued, "You and Daryl earlier. Just seemed… _weird_ … Didn't it?"

Beth swallowed hard and bit down on the inside of her cheek, but tried to look as quizzical as possible while also sounding clueless. "Uh – weird, how? Like, which part? He's barely said two words to me all mornin'."

Clem's smirk faded and she shrugged her shoulders but still appeared somewhat suspicious. "Hm. I dunno. Nevermind."

Daryl and Malachi approached a few minutes later, after Beth and Clem agreed on a time to meet up and start getting ready. Then she bid goodbye to all the girls and left with Daryl and his son, who waited for her without question.

Despite their tension all morning, Beth didn't feel unwelcomed as she strode down the sidewalk with the boys, heading back toward the apartment. Daryl's bad mood had seemed to alleviate since the class, and Malachi was chattering away as usual. Which was fine with Beth, because she preferred trailing behind the boys and watching all the people move about the city from behind her sunglasses. And when she and Daryl weren't talking, the tension between them was practically undetectable.

But she definitely noticed the way Daryl kept glancing back at her the whole way home.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Based on a suggestion from **arrowsandangels** (huge shoutout, btw, for all the amazing reviews she left), I'm going to try to break up the updates into more parts. This will be my first attempt at that. By the time I finished this chapter, it was 22k words, and I don't wanna overwhelm you guys, but I'm also not going to make you wait a week or two weeks for an 8k word update. So I broke it up into 3 chapters. Based on how many people review, I'll decide whether to post the next parts tomorrow or give each update a day in between for everyone to catch up. But feel free to let me know if you like this new system of multiple updates a couple days in a row, or if you'd rather have 15k+ chapters every 2-3 weeks. I don't really care either way, I just want everyone to be motivated to read and review and not feel overwhelmed with the chapter sizes. And in all honesty, I would've broken this chapter into AT LEAST two parts anyway lol.  
As always, thank you to everyone who's been reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following! I'm dedicating all my writing time to this fic and I'm determined to see it all the way through. Please let me know what you're loving and what you're hating so I can keep writing an interesting story! :) And if you catch any mistakes or inconsistencies - please let me know! I always research and proofread, but I'm not perfect :)


	21. seek it out and ye shall find

_**seek it out and ye shall find;**_

When they got home, Beth headed to the bathroom while Daryl and Malachi went to their bedroom. In preparation for the party, Beth took a quick shower to freshen up after all the sweating she'd done during class. She even shaved her legs for the first time in weeks.

She saw the boys preparing lunch together in the kitchen as she headed for her bedroom, both of them wearing different clothes and seeming to be in better moods. Although Beth could still hear the occasional whine in Malachi's voice as she shut the door behind her.

There was a text from Clementine waiting on her phone, informing her she'd be on her way over soon. Beth texted back a thumbs up emoji, then set about gathering all the beauty products she'd acquired – or rather, the few forgotten tubes of makeup that had been tossed into a drawer. She also sorted through her clothes and pulled out everything she'd bought that wasn't for sleeping, running, or concealing a weapon.

There was a knock on her door. With a pile of clothes and makeup on her bed, Beth hopped up and answered it, expecting Clem. Instead, she found Daryl.

"We're headin' over t'Carol's fer a bit," he explained, gesturing toward the front door and where Malachi stood, backpack in hand, waiting for his dad. "Ya ain't leavin' till three-thirty, right?"

"Yeah," Beth answered. "So… yer comin'?"

He nodded. "Might as well. Think Carol's afraid a bein' lonely tonight. Sophia's stayin' at a friend's, she asked me if she could take Mal for the night. So I ain't got nothin' better t'do."

Beth couldn't hold back her smirk. "Don't lie – you wanna see your _friends_ , too. It's okay."

He furrowed his brow and grumbled, but she didn't break her smile. "Jus' acquaintances. Figured ya need at least one person who's _zen_ around y'all. Bunch a troublemakers, might start some kinda revolution if I left ya unattended."

His grumbling was misleading when Beth realized what he was saying, and she saw the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Her smirk turned into a bashful smile and she said, "Alright, _Chaperone_ _Dixon_. If you insist. Ya sure there's room for two on the back a that bike?"

Daryl raised his eyebrows and said, "Nah. We're walkin'. 'S only twenty minutes away."

She shrugged and agreed, although she was admittedly a little disappointed. "Oh, well alright."

Daryl was about to turn and head for the door when there was a knocking on the other side. He looked at Beth.

"There's the muscle of the operation now," he joked, and smirked before turning away and walking over to open the front door.

Sure enough, Clementine had arrived, a backpack over her shoulder. She was wearing sweatpants, an old martial arts T-shirt, and sneakers. She seemed surprised to be greeted by Daryl, but smiled nonetheless. For the first time, Beth realized that Clem had a polite smile she used with people she didn't know very well, and an honest smile with people she could comfortably joke with. Beth wondered if her own smiles were as drastically different and noticeable as that.

Clem spotted Beth over Daryl's shoulder and entered the apartment after he'd said hello and stepped aside. He shut the door behind her and she headed straight for Beth, who had taken a step outside her bedroom door.

"Hey," Clem said, smiling. Her hair was already done, the curls loosened with product and pulled into a half-up style, leaving her face framed while the dark curls flowed down her back and over her shoulders. Her hair was longer than it had seemed, and Beth could see now why she always tied it up in a bun.

"Hey, what's up," Beth greeted with a smile, leading Clem into her bedroom while Daryl and Malachi left for Carol's.

Clem set her bag down on the floor and stepped closer to the pile on the bed, not hesitating to start picking through it and examining the few pieces of makeup and some of the clothing. Beth could see that she'd already started on her own face, and it looked like she only had a few finishing touches to do before she was ready for the party.

"So, how _pretty_ are you tryin' to look for this thing?" Beth asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed, next to the clothes.

Clem smiled eagerly and dropped the items from her hands back into the pile, then went to her bag and opened it up. "Just a little cuter than usual. When's the last time you had a reason to spoil yourself and make yourself feel beautiful for a night?"

Beth furrowed her brow, not expecting such a serious outlook from Clem. "Um… I dunno. I mean – "

"Exactly," Clem stopped her, still smiling broadly, then went on as she pulled out pieces of clothing and bags of makeup from her backpack. "It's not like – _prom_ , or going out to the club or something. It's just some clothes I never have a reason to wear. And I _immediately_ knew you'd look great in this one top I have… Oh, and I also have the perfect color in one of my eyeshadow palettes, it'll match the whole thing. It'll really bring out your eyes."

Once again, Beth was surprised. "Wow, I didn't know you were into this kinda stuff."

Clem shrugged as she methodically pulled out clothes and makeup and sat down on the floor, arranging her impromptu workspace. "My mom taught me in middle school, but she stopped 'cause I didn't care about girly stuff back then. So then in high school, when I got into it, I just learned all the other stuff from YouTube tutorials. It's not a big deal – I didn't have any siblings. I know lots of girls have their big sisters or whatever to teach them how to _contour_ and all that. But my mom really only showed me the basics, and I just like how it looks sometimes. It's kinda like art – it can be fun."

Beth was thinking about Maggie. There was a time, many years ago, when Maggie might've delighted in teaching Beth how to properly apply eyeshadow. But things changed, and priorities got shuffled around. Beth got a little lost in the mix, and when it came to anything more than plucking her eyebrows or shaving her legs (or, eventually, trimming up _down_ _there_ ), she didn't want to bother Maggie with such nonsense. Besides, Maggie never seemed to have a desire for makeup either, so why would Beth be interested? And her momma had always been too busy for such superficial matters – any beauty routines she maintained were kept quiet because that's what was "ladylike" and "Christian." Annette hadn't lived long enough to see Beth as anything more than her innocent baby girl who needed protection from the cruelties of womanhood.

But she didn't talk about any of that. Instead, she said, "Oh – yeah, I… didn't learn any a that either. Um, didn't really think about teachin' myself either, I guess. Just the basics."

Clem was arranging everything on the floor, then looked over to Beth and signaled for her to sit down on the floor in front of her. "Well, lucky for you, you're naturally beautifully. Some of us aren't so blessed."

Beth had to laugh at that as she sat down on the carpet and scooted in close to Clem, both of them surrounded by makeup palettes and brushes. "Not true. You're easily way prettier than me."

Clem rolled her eyes and started grabbing sponges and bottles. "Just take the damn compliment."

Beth laughed again and Clem joined her, then she began working on Beth's face. Beth closed her eyes and felt the excitement growing inside. She knew it was a stupid thing to be excited about – and extremely superficial, at that. But she couldn't help that she anticipated seeing herself in a new way when Clem was done. Maybe she'd even _look_ more like a "Rosie."

"So," Clem started as she dabbed at Beth's cheeks and forehead with a sponge. "Did he tell you about his date last night? Carol wouldn't say anything about it when we asked her."

Beth kept her eyes closed and tried to speak a little softer than usual so as not to move her mouth too much while Clem worked, "…Yeah. I… guess so. It, uh… didn't go well. I dunno if I should say anythin' if Carol didn't…"

Clem made a sound of intrigue from her throat. "Well, he didn't _seem_ too pissed at class. But I guess that doesn't really mean anything..."

"Nah, not really," Beth mumbled, thinking about that morning and how irritable Daryl had been. "He, um – walked out on that girl. She sounded pretty awful, honestly. He came home kinda drunk, an' I don't think I've actually _seen_ him drunk till last night."

"Hm. He _did_ tell you a lot," Clem muttered, and Beth immediately realized she'd said too much.

 _Shit_ , she thought. _Did he tell me all that in confidence? Surely, Carol will be telling everyone about it within a couple days…_

"Not really, it was jus'… in passin'. That's – all he said. When I asked," Beth stammered, then pursed her lips and tried to remain still as Clem began working on her eyebrows.

She could hear Clem clicking her tongue and sensed that she was shaking her head, as well. "It's cool, dude – no need to explain to me. He didn't ride his bike home like that, did he?"

"No – he got a cab, I guess. Said he had t'go pick his bike up in the morning," Beth replied as Clem carefully plucked at her eyebrows and highlighted their arches with a steady hand. "I dunno… he seemed pretty upset. I think he was kinda lookin' forward to it, even if he was mostly doing it like, as a favor to Carol."

"Understandable," Clem mumbled, distracted by her precise work. "Carol might know him best, but I don't think she knows what he _wants_ best. There's… a difference."

"Mm-hmm," Beth said, keeping her lips shut as Clem brushed her cheeks and nose lightly with a brush to sweep away the stray hairs and powder.

"Maybe she'll lose interest in Daryl's love life once she finds somebody, though," Clem continued, beginning her work on Beth's eyelids.

Beth shrugged, eyes still closed as she tried to keep her face steady. "She seems pretty content by herself. I don't think she has any time for a relationship. At least not till Sophia gets a little… better."

"Yeah, but she gets lonely," Clem said quietly. "Trust me. I don't think she's even been on a date since she left Ed. But… she's been kinda talking about this one guy she met at Sophia's therapist's office."

"Oh, really?" Beth asked.

"Yeah," Clem explained. "I dunno if she's mentioned him to anybody else. A couple times, she came through the lobby while I was working 'cause she and Sophia got back from therapy and she was smiling a lot. I thought maybe the therapist was just working really well, but then the last couple times I saw her afterwards, she mentioned some guy named Toby…? I think it was. But I didn't really ask about him. She just mentioned him a lot in a couple of stories. He's probably married or something, but it's the first guy's name I've heard her mention that wasn't a doctor, her ex, or her neighbor."

Beth was curious, but she still couldn't picture Carol making time for any dates with some guy she met at a doctor's office. Much like Beth, her plate was full enough already.

"Maybe he's just a friend," Beth mumbled as Clem brushed colors across her eyelids.

" _Ah_ ," Clem grunted, speaking in a low, growling voice, " _Think she's got enough friends_ …"

Beth immediately realized that Clem was doing an impression of Daryl, without warning. She tried to suppress a giggle, but couldn't help it, and Clem had to stop applying eyeshadow for a second when her mouth broke into a broad grin and she giggled, too.

"That was… so _mean_ ," Beth giggled, opening her eyes to see Clem's reddened cheeks and mischievous smile.

"What? I didn't say anything _mean_ ," Clem said, still chuckling. "That's just what he sounds like. And that's what he'd say – you _know_ it!"

Beth threw her head back and laughed loudly.

For just a brief moment, as she sat on her bedroom floor with her new friend and laughed while surrounded by makeup and pretty clothes… she felt like a normal eighteen-year-old girl.

* * *

 _After Beth came home from breaking up with Jimmy and dealt with the consequential conversation with Maggie and Hershel, she went upstairs and hid away for the rest of the night. She could hear her family shuffling about, and more than once, she heard the front door downstairs opening and closing. They normally didn't get any visitors this late at night, and Beth knew it was all because of her. They were having hushed conversations and heated arguments, but all she wanted to do was bathe and forget it had ever happened._

 _She scrubbed the dirt and blood from her skin as best she could, but she couldn't wash away the black eye and cut lip. The whole experience left her with the same guilt and shame that she'd lain in bed with after August Eleventh. Her skin was pink and raw by the time she dried off, just like it had been that night. This was different, though, she knew: She had never told anyone about that night, but this had been unavoidable. Maggie and Hershel knew, and they were undoubtedly going to pursue their own form of justice._

 _Beth returned to her bedroom to find the blood-stained clothes on her floor. She picked them up and took them to the laundry room, where she spent the next half-hour washing, scrubbing, and re-washing the white cardigan and yellow polo. But the blood grew darker and seemed to seep into the fabric. She tried to use all the tricks that her momma had taught her for getting blood out, but she grew so frustrated and her fingers were fumbling and the next thing she knew, there were tears in her eyes._

 _She wanted to scream, but she didn't. Instead, she wadded up the wet shirts and angrily chucked them into the trashcan nearby, then stormed off to her bedroom._

 _Several different voices drifted up the stairs and into Beth's bedroom, but she tuned them out. She couldn't handle any more for the day, physically or mentally. She had_ _ **warned**_ _Jimmy, and he_ _ **knew**_ _what would happen, and he did it anyway. Beth may have been naïve, but she'd seen enough to know by now that there was no possible way for her to stop her daddy._

 _She didn't even want to_ _ **think**_ _about the things Hershel would do to Jimmy._

 _After a restless few hours of sleep, Beth got up to find the farmhouse empty. Everyone was usually up and around by sunrise anyway, but she could feel that there was something different about today. It was rare for all of them to be gone this early on a Friday morning, and even if they weren't in the house, they were usually somewhere nearby. However, when she gazed out the windows, she saw no one except the usual employees that were just starting to show up for the day. Glenn's car was gone, but so was Hershel's truck._

 _Beth tried to clear her head while she began preparing some breakfast, but there was a sense of dread that wouldn't leave her body. The sky lightened and more employees showed up outside, and she glanced at the clock. It was nearly 6:30 and she was sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast by herself._

 _The food tasted bland, but she knew it was just her nerves. There was a constant chill running through her that she couldn't seem to shake off, and she kept glancing toward the hall and the backdoor, ears perked for any signs of her family. But there was nothing more than the usual sounds of the farm._

 _She had finished her meal and resorted to washing the dishes when she heard the front door._

' _Finally,' she thought, dropping everything and drying her hands quickly to rush down the hall._

 _But she stopped halfway to the front door, staring at the sight before her. She suddenly understood how Maggie and Hershel must've felt when they saw her walk in the night before._

 _There was her daddy, her sister, her brother-in-law, and her cousin. But they all had blood spattered across them, and Glenn and Hershel looked to be particularly sweaty. Maggie had a dark look on her face, and Beth couldn't remember when she'd ever seen it before. All the questions she'd had for them were suddenly gone, and she stared in shock._

" _Bethy, y'should be in bed," Hershel said, his voice somehow kind and soft despite his menacing appearance._

 _Beth found her voice, but the only sentence her mouth was able to form was, "Please tell me you didn't kill him."_

 _The entire group froze. Glenn shook his head, eyes wide. Arnold looked to Hershel, who slumped his shoulders as though in defeat, and Maggie scoffed audibly._

" _Of course not," she said. "We… taught him a lesson. He'll never bother us again."_

 _Beth raised her eyebrows. "Sounds like murder."_

 _Hershel shook his head and stepped forward, putting his hands up. "No - he's alive. I promise you… Despite my better judgment, I left him_ _ **alive**_ _."_

 _Maggie pursed her lips._

" _I'm – gonna go help Patricia an' Otis," Arnold mumbled, grabbing the handle to the front door._

" _Eh - !" Hershel called, stopping him. "Change that damn_ _ **shirt**_ _first, boy."_

 _Arnold nodded obediently and let go of the door handle to dash around the group and disappear upstairs._

" _And where are Otis and Patricia…?" Beth asked, eyes narrowing as they passed over each member of the group._

" _Takin' care of the weapons," Hershel explained. "I won't lie t'you, Beth. You're an adult now, you can handle the truth. And you know what was gonna happen to that boy if he kept up… an' – well, like I said, I didn't kill him."_

 _Beth nodded, gaze drifting downwards. She knew he wasn't lying because he wouldn't be this nonchalant about murder. But for all she knew, Jimmy_ _ **could**_ _be in a vegetative state somewhere. Technically, that_ _ **would**_ _still be "alive."_

" _Beth… he could've_ _ **killed**_ _you last night," Maggie said, voice stern as she spoke up._

 _Beth looked into her sister's eyes and nodded in understanding, then said, "I know. I just… don't want you guys goin' to prison 'cause of me."_

 _Hershel looked down at this statement, and Glenn took the opportunity to slip away upstairs. Maggie approached Beth._

" _ **Don't**_ _worry about that," she said, her voice softer but still stern. "We knew what we were doin'. We would never put the family at risk like that."_

 _Beth nodded, but she knew her skepticism was probably evident on her face._

 _Maggie reached out and squeezed her arm reassuringly. "He_ _ **hurt**_ _you, Beth. He had to pay… If it weren't for everythin' goin' on lately… he_ _ **would**_ _be dead right now. I promise you that… Nobody hurts my baby sister an' gets away with it._ _ **Nobody**_ _."_

 _Beth spent the rest of the day in her bedroom, either trying to sleep or trying to ignore the sounds of her family rustling about the house and arguing with each other. She had a feeling that by this point, the Jimmy thing had just become another layer to a large stack of problems for the Greene's._

 _Silence didn't settle over the farmhouse until late in the evening. The sun went down and the air cooled outside, and people finally stopped coming and going through the front and back doors. A little while later, the rest of the lights in the house were shut off, and the doors to Hershel's bedroom and Maggie and Glenn's bedroom were shut for the night. Beth finally found the calm quiet she'd needed, and drifted off to sleep._

 _It was nearly midnight when she jerked awake for a seemingly inexplicable reason. She looked around, disoriented for a few seconds. But the house was still quiet and everything still appeared to be dark._

 _Then she heard it: a loud 'thud' from downstairs. It sounded like it had come from directly below her bedroom._

 _Beth cleared the sleep from her eyes and got up, turning on her bedside lamp. She threw on some pajama pants and slippers, then headed out the bedroom door and toward the stairs. The second story was still dark and silent, and all the doors were shut. She wondered if Glenn or Maggie had gone to the kitchen for something and knocked something over, or maybe her daddy had fallen downstairs. He'd fallen a couple times before, and she knew she had to expect it as he got older._

 _She was preparing herself for several different scenarios, but once she reached the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner to head to the kitchen, she stopped in her tracks. Of all the possibilities she'd thought of, what she saw had not been one of them._

 _Luckily, she was still in the dark of the hallway and hidden by shadows, so he couldn't see her, but she had a very clear view of Jimmy standing in her kitchen. He was surrounded by broken glass and seemed to be stumbling around, though she couldn't tell if he was drunk or high. He was holding something tightly in his hand, but there wasn't enough lighting for her to make out what it was._

 _Her breath caught in her throat and she froze for a second, torn between turning and running away or reaching into the drawer nearby and grabbing the Beretta. But she stopped herself from doing either – she couldn't run this time, not when her family was sleeping upstairs, and she knew she'd end up killing him if she grabbed the gun. But she didn't know if she'd have enough time to wake up Maggie and Hershel before Jimmy started heading upstairs to do God knows what._

 _With pure panic fueling her, Beth rushed back upstairs as quietly as she could and dashed to her phone, which she'd left lying beside her bed. She dialed 911 without a second thought, then tiptoed back to the top of the stairs to listen and watch for Jimmy. From the sounds of it, he was still fumbling around the kitchen._

" _Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?" The dispatcher came through the phone loudly, and Beth feared for a second that Jimmy would hear it from the kitchen._

" _Uh – y-yes, I have – um, well, my abusive ex-boyfriend just broke into my house. He – I think he's high on something, and maybe ar-armed, and – um, I don't – I don't know what t'do. I'm afraid he wants t'try to kill my family," Beth rambled, cupping her hand to the phone to try to muffle her voice from being heard downstairs, even though she was whispering._

 _She wasn't sure if she was making sense, but she didn't care either. She just wanted someone to arrive and take Jimmy away as soon as possible. She didn't want her home to be a crime scene again – and she didn't want her family to become murderers. She couldn't stop herself from feeling panicked._

" _Okay, miss, and what's your location?" The dispatcher asked. Beth could hear the rapid clicks of a keyboard in the background._

 _She whispered the address of the farm, then jumped when another loud 'thud' came from the kitchen._

" _And are you safe right now?" The dispatcher asked. "I need you to stay on the line with me, miss. What's your name?"_

" _I – " Beth didn't want to say any more than she had to._

 _Then she heard a sound from nearby and turned her head to see Maggie's bedroom door opening. Maggie appeared, dressed in pajamas and looking half-asleep. But she seemed to wake up quickly when she saw Beth huddled at the top of the stairs, cell phone pressed to her ear._

" _I have t'go," Beth whispered, then ended the call and slipped the phone into the pocket of her pants as Maggie rushed over to her._

" _Beth – what's goin' on?" Maggie hissed, glancing down the stairs questioningly._

" _Jimmy broke in," Beth whispered, looking to her older sister with large, fearful eyes._

 _Maggie's mouth dropped open and she seemed to be in disbelief at first. Then she asked, "Who was on the phone? Why didn't you wake me up? What's he_ _ **doin'**_ _down there?"_

" _I – I called the cops," Beth choked out, and as soon as the words came out, she realized she'd made a huge mistake._

 _Maggie's eyes widened in horror. "The_ _ **cops**_ _?! Beth, no!"_

' _Oh my god, what was I thinking?!' Beth thought. The look on her sister's face made her realize how wrong she'd been. She still couldn't explain it. She_ _ **hadn't**_ _been thinking. She'd been acting on pure fear._

" _I – I just wanted him_ _ **gone**_ _," Beth hissed, tears brimming in her eyes as a whole new panic mounted inside her. "I didn't want you guys t'_ _ **kill**_ _him, or – or for him to kill_ _ **you**_ _. I just wanted him t'go to jail!"_

 _Maggie just shook her head and rushed back to her bedroom, returning a couple of seconds later with Glenn before dashing to Hershel's bedroom door and knocking frantically. Beth stood by the stairs helplessly, watching as Maggie and Glenn entered Hershel's bedroom and woke him up._

 _Meanwhile, the clatter Jimmy was making had moved to the hallway, and it was only a matter of time until he'd be coming up the stairs. Beth still wasn't sure of his intentions, but she knew they weren't good. She stared down the dark staircase as the distant sounds of police sirens reached her ears from somewhere outside._

" _Beth!"_

 _Jimmy had stumbled his way to the stairs and spotted her at the top, or maybe he had heard her voice. Either way, he was staring up at her from the bottom of the stairs now, but Hershel was just emerging from his bedroom with Glenn and Maggie. He had a shotgun in his hand._

" _Beth, get t'bed," Hershel said sternly, approaching the stairs and peering down to see Jimmy._

" _Daddy, I – I didn't know what t'do," she said desperately. "I just wanted him gone. Please, don't do anythin' – I don't know what he has with him, an-and I think he's on somethin'."_

 _Her father sighed but he became more preoccupied with the man attempting to climb the stairs. Maggie rushed over and turned on the upstairs light, flooding the area with light. Beth blinked, and for the first time, she could see Jimmy clearly._

 _He was a bloodied, bruised mess. If she'd broken his nose, her family had shattered it, and some parts of his face were so swollen, it was a wonder he wasn't in the hospital. She could tell there were a lot more bruises on the rest of his body, covered by clothing. But her daddy had left him more stable than she'd expected, and she wondered for a second if he was only up and walking because of all the drugs in his system. She knew it was likely that he'd self-medicated._

" _Boy, you better get outta here. I know you must be high on_ _ **somethin'**_ _to think comin' here was a good idea," Hershel said loudly, his voice deep and ominous. He cocked the shotgun audibly and aimed it at Jimmy._

 _Despite his extreme intoxication, Jimmy was coherent enough to recognize when a gun was being pointed at him. He put up his hands and backed away slowly, nearly tripping backward as he reversed down the couple of stairs he'd climbed. Whatever he'd had in his hands must've been abandoned in the kitchen, because he appeared to be unarmed._

 _Hershel held the gun out in front of him and took slow, careful steps down the stairs. Glenn and Maggie stayed close behind him, and Beth knew she was supposed to be going to her bedroom, but she couldn't tear herself away._

 _Jimmy started rambling, his words rushed and slurred, "Listen, ol' man, y'think – "_

" _Shut the fuck up and get your ass to that door,_ _ **NOW**_ _!" Maggie barked, but Jimmy didn't seem intimidated by her like he normally would have been._

" _Do we have to beat your ass_ _ **again**_ _for you to get it?!" Glenn asked, anger evident in his voice._

 _Jimmy started rambling again, and they didn't stop him this time because they became too preoccupied with getting down the stairs and inching him toward the front door as the sirens grew closer and closer. Beth followed close behind, watching with big, fearful eyes._

 _She was terrified that her daddy would pull the trigger at any moment and put a giant hole in Jimmy's gut. She didn't think she could bring herself to scrub the bloodstain of another person she had once loved._

 _They had finally cornered him against the front door, but no one could convince him to turn around and leave before the cops started pulling up. Beth kept her mouth shut, even though Jimmy spotted her and tried to talk to her a couple of times. Hershel kept nudging closer and enunciating his words with the shotgun, and the hair on the back of Beth's neck stood up every time. Jimmy rambled about a bunch of nonsense reasons for his breaking in, but wouldn't acknowledge the question when Hershel repeatedly asked him what he'd taken. He didn't seem able to focus on any one thing._

 _The sirens were getting closer and closer, and the look Maggie and Hershel had shared told Beth that they weren't saying it, but they both knew that the cops had already had at least one car somewhere nearby, otherwise they wouldn't be responding this fast. Which left them less time to get Jimmy out of the house and under control. He'd moved to cussing at all of them and generally acting aggressively, and Beth prayed he wouldn't do something stupid while her daddy was pointing a gun at him._

" _Beth!" He had resorted to attempting to beg and plead with her, despite her family standing between them. "_ _ **Beth**_ _! I'm not – I'm not goin' to jail, yer dad can_ _ **shoot**_ _me, I'd rather_ _ **fucking**_ _ **die**_ _than – "_

" _Jimmy,_ _ **STOP**_ _!" She finally cried out, staring straight into his eyes from where she stood a few feet behind her father. "You're goin' to_ _ **jail**_ _. Now you can either get out that front door, or my dad will_ _ **shoot**_ _you – and I won't stop him this time."_

 _This seemed to resonate with Jimmy for at least a few seconds, because he stopped ranting and rambling. Beth's hands were shaking as she clutched them in front of her, her heart racing. Then Jimmy's face contorted in anger and he leapt forward, as though he were going to attack Beth with both hands. She jumped back instinctively, but he didn't get more than a foot forward because Glenn had stepped forward in an instant and wrestled Jimmy into a headlock._

 _He fought back and cussed angrily, but Glenn's grip only got tighter around the other man's neck, and Maggie stepped forward to unlock and open the front door so that they could drag Jimmy out onto the porch. Hershel lowered the shotgun and set it inside a nearby closet, then turned to Beth._

 _She was still trembling from the sight of Jimmy leaping at her, hands reaching out for her throat and eyes wild with a derangement she didn't recognize._

" _Get back t'bed._ _ **Now**_ _," Hershel said, and his tone told her there was no room for argument. "Do_ _ **not**_ _leave your bedroom, do not talk to_ _ **anyone**_ _about this."_

 _Beth nodded wordlessly, mouth agape. Her daddy turned and followed the others out onto the porch, shutting the front door tightly behind him. She didn't hesitate to dash up the stairs and into her bedroom, where she shut and locked the door and kept her light off. The blue and red of the police lights was bouncing off all her walls as the sirens wailed outside, slowly fading out as the cars parked and turned their sirens off. It seemed deafening to her, though._

 _She watched the scene play out in front of her house from behind the curtains of her bedroom window. The light from the porch and the headlights of the police cars weren't enough for her to be able to tell who the cops were that her father was talking to, or if any of them was Detective Lerner. But she knew that it wasn't necessarily a good sign if Dawn wasn't here – it was just a breaking-and-entering call anyway, there was no justifiable reason for a detective to be on the scene._

 _Beth silently cursed herself for calling the police as she watched them approach Jimmy. She knew it was causing a risk for her family, but she just wanted to prevent more people from getting hurt when they didn't have to._

 _And as she watched her ex-boyfriend attempt to headbutt a police officer, she knew it had been her only option if she didn't want to watch her father put a bullet through Jimmy._

 _Even from behind her window, Beth could hear Jimmy screaming at the top of his lungs as he was forced into handcuffs, crying out angrily, "BE-ETH!_ _ **BETH…!**_ _"_

 _He stopped yelling once his face was pushed into the hood of the police car so the police could pat him down. She watched them pull multiple handfuls of things out of his pockets and shoes, but she couldn't make out what they were. Later on, she learned they were all bags of her father's product that he'd audaciously stolen._

 _She tried to tell herself that the police would treat him more humanely than her daddy would have. But the last time Beth saw Jimmy alive, he was being shoved into the backseat of a police car and driven away._

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Yes, Tobin is going to be in this story. I normally ship the everliving hell out of Carzekiel, but I introduced Ezekiel in this fic too soon and blew that chance, so I'm giving Tobin the happiness he DESERVES. There will probably be a lot of that in this story - I love giving characters the happy lives and happy endings that I secretly want for them lol so I hope you're here for it ;)


	22. old, but i'm not that old young, but i'

_**old, but i'm not that old; young, but i'm not that bold**_

By the time Clem had finished applying makeup, curling and styling Beth's hair, and giving her clothes to try on before deciding together what she looked best in, Beth barely recognized herself. She wore her own black boots and leggings, but Clem leant her a tight-fitting top that matched the light layer of eyeshadow on her eyelids. Beth even allowed her cleavage to make a small appearance, which she'd never done before, nor had she even _known_ she could have cleavage with the right kind of bra and blouse combination. Clem had somehow managed to manipulate Beth's hair into appearing like it had beach waves with a few natural curls, and her blue eyes looked even larger and rounder than usual with her thick, long eyelashes darkened and curled. Her cheekbones were accentuated and her cheeks were dusted with color. Clem had wanted to apply lipstick, but Beth opted for subtle liner and gloss instead.

Beth shoved her clothes back into their drawers and then sat on the bed and watched Clem finish getting ready. She added the final touches to her makeup and tried on a couple of different outfits, asking for Beth's opinion before settling on a short dress and flats. When she was finished, her tawny skin was glowing, eyebrows perfectly sculpted and filled in, and the almond shape of her eyes was dramatized with a thick line of black eyeliner that she'd winged outward. The girls bounced between the bathroom and Beth's bedroom for a bit, changing mirrors and lighting, then settled back down inside the bedroom when they were satisfied with their appearances.

They chatted casually about Clem's classes, how her parents had been fighting more often, how Beth was enjoying how educational the self-defense class was, and their expectations for the party. Then they joked about how drunk Tara would get, and if she'd get Rosita to let loose with her again.

A few times, Beth silently debated on confiding in Clem about the kiss. But whenever she was about to force herself to push out the words, preparing for a variety of reactions, Clem would change the subject and start asking Beth's opinion on something new. After a couple of times, Beth took it as a sign that she should just keep it to herself. She told herself she didn't want to ruin the carefree mood with such a serious conversation anyway.

Just as they were beginning to wonder aloud when Daryl would be coming back and whether they should leave without him, they heard the front door open.

"Y'all ready?!" He called from the living room, and the girls exchanged a playful look before leaving the bedroom together, jackets and phones in hand.

"Yeah, are you?" Beth answered, smirking playfully at Daryl.

He looked down at himself – clean jeans, non-work boots, and a plaid button-up (sleeves rolled up above his elbows, of course) – then looked back up at Beth and Clem, glancing at their outfits. Beth noticed his eyes lingering on her a bit longer than usual as they drifted up and down and back up again, his cheeks turning a little pink. She suddenly felt self-conscious, casually crossing her arms across her middle so her jacket would cover the exposed cleavage. She glanced over at Clem but couldn't tell if she'd noticed as well.

He looked down at himself again, avoiding Beth's eyes, and grunted, "Huh. Maybe not as ready as you two. But I did m'best."

Beth smiled and Clem joked from beside her, "It's okay, Daryl – you'll never be as pretty as us. It's not your fault."

Clem and Beth shared a laugh while Daryl smirked in amusement and gestured for them to follow him out the front door.

"Funny," he commented, locking up the door and leading the girls down the hall to start their trek down the stairs. "When yer together like that, y'all look like yer the same age."

Clem and Beth exchanged a look, then Clem asked, "So you think I could pass for twenty-one?"

Daryl chuckled and glanced back at them for a second, then replied, "Hah. Nah, neither of ya looks a day over eighteen."

Beth's heart skipped and she thought, _Well, about seventeen days over. But you're not supposed to notice that…_

She didn't say anything, though.

The girls trailed a few feet behind Daryl as he led the way out of the apartment building and down the sidewalk. Beth quickly noticed he was wearing the same musky scent that he'd put on for his date with Ally. She and Clem were walking so closely together that they were bumping arms as they talked in hushed voices and giggled quietly at small jokes. Daryl didn't seem to care much, walking with his back straightened and shoulders squared.

He'd thrown on pair of dark sunglasses, and he kept his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans as he walked at a leisurely pace, keeping his head on a swivel. Beth saw him glancing back at her and Clem every couple of minutes, and she couldn't help but feel like he was secretly playing out a bodyguard fantasy in his head – because personally, she was half-pretending he was their personal bodyguard in her own mind, just for the fun of it. And even with her sunglasses on, she somehow felt safer and less noticeable out in public with Daryl and Clem around her.

About halfway to Tara's apartment, and only ten minutes into the group's trek through the East Village, Beth got to see the true character of some of the city's residents.

As they ventured away from Daryl's apartment, the sidewalks became more populated and the traffic grew heavier. Daryl slowed his long strides until he was directly in front of Clem and Beth as they walked and weaved their way past people and bus stops and piles of black, full trash bags. They came to a crosswalk and halted at the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for the signal to change while cars sped past them. Beth and Clem were still talking as they glanced around and checked their surroundings, then the signal changed and they were following Daryl's lead into the street. But one of the cars had tried to push his luck and make the light, only to find Daryl and the two girls stepping out in front of his car. Daryl turned just in time to see the vehicle and he reached a hand out to slap the hood of the car angrily as it stopped abruptly, coming within inches of both Daryl's and Beth's legs.

" _Hey_!" Daryl cried out, furious. He stared into the windshield and threw his hands up. "What the fuck?! Watch where yer goin', _asshole_!"

Beth and Clem had been startled, but Clem seemed more accustomed to the situation. Daryl glanced at Clem, then Beth, checking for assurance that they were unharmed, but his eyes frantically swept Beth up and down multiple times.

"Ya alright?" He asked.

Beth nodded, eyes still wide from being startled.

Daryl looked back to the driver with fury in his eyes. Beth looked into the windshield that Daryl was staring into and saw a bearded man making angry hand gestures inside his car, his mouth moving as he yelled but the words drowned out by his closed windows and the noise on the street.

Daryl gave the hood another angry slap but didn't leave any damage, then turned and gestured for the girls to continue walking with him. The three of them fast-walked across the street and let out a collective sigh of relief when they reached the next sidewalk. But Beth could see how angry Daryl still was, and he was glancing back at them twice as often now.

"What a dick," Clem remarked, turning to Beth again. "Welcome to New York, huh?"

Beth smiled but didn't say anything. She was still watching Daryl inadvertently flexing his neck muscles in anger from the corner of her eye.

The rest of their walk to Tara and Denise's was relatively peaceful. The neighborhood they lived in was a bit busier and louder than Daryl's, but Beth could tell that it was more expensive just by looking at it. Tara and Denise's condo complex was situated across from a large building that held a mattress store and right next door to a bagel shop. The trio had to squeeze past other pedestrians and another busy bus stop, then another large pile of black trash bags as they approached the tallest building on the street. The multi-level building across the street was the only one nearly as tall as the condo complex, and it still fell short a few stories.

Beth gazed up at the rows and rows of long windows that reached for the sky and silently prayed it had an elevator. It had to be at least twenty floors. There were so many large, long, clear glass windows that the building looked like it was almost made entirely of glass.

Daryl, Clem, and Beth approached the glass front door, situated right next to a black portion of wall that had "ONE TEN 3RD" painted onto it in block letters next to a long, skinny window. There was a white awning over the glass door, and from the outside, Beth could see a lobby – much nicer than the one in Daryl's _or_ Rosita's building.

"Goddamn, place must cost 'least a million," Daryl commented as he opened the glass door and stepped aside to let the girls walk in first.

"Easily," Clem affirmed. "Denise makes that psychiatrist money."

"They got a roommate?" He asked, entering behind the girls as they all stepped into the lobby – its floors were shiny and white, the walls painted a soft eggshell color, and every surface inside had at least one type of floral arrangement on it.

"No, they use the spare bedroom for guests," Clem explained. "I think Tara's sister and niece come and stay with them sometimes."

Daryl nodded, gazing around the sparkling clean lobby with curiosity. Beth probably looked about the same, but she was keeping her sunglasses on and her mouth shut, choosing to observe instead. Daryl spotted the doorman, dressed in his impeccable uniform, standing near the elevator on the far side of the room and led the girls over to speak to him.

"Good evening," the doorman greeted with a polite smile as Daryl and the two girls approached him. His shiny, bronze nametag read _C.J._ and he was a few inches taller than Daryl. "How may I help you?"

Daryl nodded, "Evenin'. Uh, we're here fer the Cloyd-Chambler residence."

The doorman, C.J., smiled knowingly. "Tara informed me she'd be expecting guests. Right this way."

He stepped aside and pressed a button for the elevator, motioning for the group to step inside when the doors opened. Daryl stepped in first, then Clem and Beth – who still had her sunglasses on, just in case.

"Apartment eleven-A," C.J. informed them, and Daryl took his cue to press the button for the eleventh floor from inside the elevator. Then the doorman waved good-bye to them, "Enjoy the party!"

The doors closed and the elevator began taking the trio up and up and up. Beth was thankful they didn't have to climb any stairs, and she was also feeling a little culture shock. Now that she was thinking about it, she couldn't remember ever seeing an actual doorman in real life. And she wasn't sure that the concierge at the hotels her family used to stay at on vacation when she was little really counted as proper doormen. This guy actually seemed to know Tara and Denise, and knew that they were having a party. Beth was becoming more and more curious to see what the apartment would look like.

When they reached the eleventh floor, the elevator doors opened to reveal a spotless, beige hallway. The floors were polished wood and the walls were decorated with generic paintings. There were a few plants along the edges of the somewhat narrow hall, and the hall lead to four different doors, labeled A, B, C, and D. The word "Eleven" was painted on the wall to the left in calligraphy.

Daryl led the girls to the white door with a big, black "A" painted on it, stopping in front of it and knocking. They could hear the faint sounds of music and voices from inside.

Beth glanced around the hall, checking the walls and upper corners for cameras. She'd been discreetly searching the lobby and elevator, as well, but couldn't seem to spot where the camera was hidden exactly. She assumed they must've had higher end technology and surveillance, based off the appearance of the building and the staff, because she knew a place like this would have some kind of video surveillance all over. She kept her sunglasses on and her head turned downwards, pretending to fiddle with the zipper of her jacket while Clem and Daryl chatted about something she'd tuned out. She didn't raise her head until the door of Tara's apartment was opening and she was stepping inside the foyer. Her mind was racing with images of a pinhole camera tucked into the corner of every room.

"Hey, guys!" Denise greeted cheerily, stepping to the side to let the group inside. She shut the door behind them and called toward the living room, "It's Daryl, Clem, and Rosie!"

Beth's anxiety immediately eased as she entered the warm environment of Tara and Denise's condo. There was an energy of excitement and comradery in the air, and the apartment was already buzzing with conversation and laughter.

Daryl gave Denise a friendly hug and patted her on the shoulder with a smile, grumbling out, "Good t'see ya. How ya been?"

She smiled and nodded, "Great! You? How's Malachi?"

He smiled back, "Good, we're doin' real good. Fancy place y'all got here, _Doctor_ Cloyd."

Denise chuckled, "Hey, thanks. The piles of student loan debt pale in comparison to these beautiful, twelve-hundred square feet, don't ya think?"

She and Daryl shared a laugh, then Clem stepped forward to greet Denise briefly, and Beth did the same, offering a small smile.

"Glad you could make it," Denise said, smiling back.

Beth glanced around the spotless condo – the floors hardwood and polished, like the ones in the hallway, and the walls painted a light gray – and saw an open door that led to a small bathroom across from the front door in the foyer. It led them around and to the left, passing a closed door on the right that presumably led to the master bedroom. To their left was a laundry closet, and next to the door of the master bedroom was a partially open door that revealed a sparse guest bedroom. And a few feet farther ahead was the living and dining room. To the left of that was the kitchen, an open transition with an island counter in the middle and two barstools. And along every outer wall were floor-to-ceiling glass windows. All the windows had curtains hanging above them, but most of them had been pulled back to let the bright sunlight pour in. The city outside created a backdrop for the living and dining rooms.

To the far right of the room, in the living portion, was a couch and TV and a few living chairs, as well as a glass coffee table. In the middle of the room, sitting against one of the areas of the wall that held a painting instead of a window, was a shiny, black table with four chairs seated around it. And to the left was the island and the kitchen. There was a surround sound system in the living room, hung around the walls, and music was playing from it at a low volume. In the corners of the small condo were vivid, green plants in artsy pots, and there were various pictures featuring Denise and Tara hung all over the open areas of wall and set along the shelves of bookcases and atop the surfaces of end tables. The sunlight pouring in from the windows gave the room a bright glow, and Beth could see the horizon beginning to change colors in preparation of sunset to the west.

Despite its fairly small size, the condo was full of people Beth didn't recognize and decorated with bright banners, streamers, and balloons. There was a large banner hung across the windows right in the middle of the living/dining room, so it was the first thing seen when one stepped out of the foyer. It read: " _¡_ _Feliz Cumpleaños_ _, Rosita!_ " The dining table was covered with an array of different foods, paper plates, cutlery, and napkins. The island counter held a wide variety of drinks, including lemonade, sodas, and liquor, as well as plenty of plastic cups. And in the corner of the living room was what looked like a karaoke machine.

"Too bright in here for ya?" Daryl muttered, and Beth turned her head to find him standing so close that their arms were touching. Clem had wandered off to talk to someone she knew in the living room.

She smirked and realized he was talking about the sunglasses, so she reached up and slipped them off, then tucked them into her jacket pocket.

She replied, "A little, yeah. A lot brighter than your apartment usually is, that's for sure."

He chuckled. "Yeah. Not enough windows in our place, I 'spose."

Before Beth could say anything else, Tara had rushed up to them, a broad grin of excitement on her face. "Oh my god, I'm so glad you guys came! Thanks for bringing Clem and Rosie, Daryl!"

She threw her arms out and hugged Daryl, and he returned it sheepishly. He glanced over at Beth and they exchanged a joking look.

Tara turned to Beth, still smiling, and hugged her as well, then pulled away and asked them, "Want a drink?"

Beth shook her head but Daryl shrugged. He answered, "Sure. I can get it – where's it at?"

"Oh, c'mon, I'm getting one, too," Tara instructed, and turned to lead him to the kitchen, slipping past a couple of people Beth didn't recognize. "Rosita's supposed to be here in about thirty minutes. We're all gonna do the classic surprise thing – I got C.J. to call me when she's on the elevator so we can all get ready."

The giddiness was evident in Tara's voice and on her face. Her eyes were sparkling and she couldn't stop smiling, and Beth felt herself smiling just by seeing her.

"Damn, ya really went all out, huh?" Daryl commented.

Beth walked closely with them to the kitchen, and she and Daryl stood next to each other at the end of the island while Tara grabbed a bottle of liquor and a bottle of soda and a plastic cup.

"Oh, yeah," Tara grinned, pouring a hearty amount of liquor into the cup. "I've never been able to surprise her – she's too fuckin' _smart_ sometimes. But this year – ohh, I'm getting her _good_."

Daryl laughed, and when Tara moved to pour in some soda to mix with the liquor, he reached out a hand and stopped her. "Nah. Keep it like that."

He took the cup from in front of her and drank it straight, then glanced around the room before stopping on Beth. "Whatcha want t'drink?"

She shook her head while Tara waited for an answer, soda bottle still in hand. "Oh, no thanks, I'm good for now. I'll just have – some of that."

She pointed to the bottle in Tara's hand. Tara shrugged and grabbed another plastic cup, pouring some of the fizzy liquid into it.

"These all yer friends?" Daryl asked, gesturing in general toward all the people occupying the condo.

"Me and Rosita's," Tara answered, holding out the plastic cup for Beth to take, which she did. "Got some of our college friends we haven't seen in a while, and then I got a bunch of her coworkers in on it, too. And those two over there, talking to Denise, are Denise's friends."

Beth glanced back to see Denise standing in the living room, cup in hand, and chatting with a man and a woman – both of whom were dressed considerably nicer than the rest of the guests at the party. Beth assumed they must be doctors, too.

"Cool," Daryl said, sipping from his cup. "She bringin' that one dude?"

"Austin?" Tara asked, nodding. "Yeah, I think so."

Daryl grunted and took another sip, and Beth glanced over to make eye contact and give him a brief, quizzical look. He shrugged and looked away from her.

Tara didn't seem to notice and turned away to answer someone who was trying to get her attention. She began talking to a tall, white guy with short, brown hair who looked to be about Daryl's age. Beth looked him up and down for a moment, searching for the signs of a cop – body movement, stance, any hints of a concealed weapon. He didn't give off an authoritative vibe, though, and she got the sense that he didn't work somewhere that required him to wear any kind of uniform.

But then she was turning her head and scanning her eyes across the rest of the guests, trying to remember all their faces while also trying to figure them out from a glance. Most of them looked like the types who'd be mechanics, while a few appeared to be young mothers out for an early night and a couple of guys in their twenties who probably sold real estate or did accounting.

Despite these observations, Beth still felt uneasy. She was wishing she'd brought her bag with her, and the spot where the Beretta usually rested beneath her arm was feeling particularly empty. Her fingers fidgeted with the sunglasses in her pocket while the other lifted the cup to her lips to take another drink.

There was a knock at the door and Beth turned to watch Tara rush to answer it, then return a few seconds later with Enid and a boy who looked to be no older than sixteen. Enid was holding his hand and smiling happily, waving to Beth and Daryl as she emerged from the foyer before turning to gleefully greet Clem in the living room.

The half-hour wait to Rosita's arrival passed quietly. Beth slowly relaxed as she wandered around the room, keeping to herself and choosing to look around Denise and Tara's condo. No one tried to engage with her, which she was thankful for. Clem and Enid seemed pretty occupied with each other, and Beth glanced over at them a few times but decided there would be plenty of time later for her to talk to them, and she didn't want to intrude right now. In the dining area, Daryl was talking with a couple of Rosita's coworkers, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke, and in the kitchen, Tara was talking and laughing with the tall, brown-haired guy and a couple of other people. Beth walked around the living room and gazed at the bookcases, skimming over the book titles, and then peered closer at some of the framed photos.

She found what looked like Tara's sister and niece, on a beach with Tara. They were all smiling and looked happy, and Beth wondered how recent the photo was. There were a few more photos like it, at different holidays and vacation spots. There were also a couple of photos of Denise with what Beth could only guess was her brother. She wondered if they were twins because they looked to be almost impossibly close in age. She thought back to the comment Denise had made the other night about how Daryl reminded her of her brother in a way. It made Beth curious to know what the man in the photo was really like.

The sound of a ringing cell phone filled the apartment, and a few seconds later, Tara was practically jumping up and down as she yelled out for everyone to get ready for Rosita's arrival.

Beth turned around to look toward the doorway of the foyer, and someone paused the music and turned off the lights in the condo. The sunlight continued to fill the small space, but it was considerably darker than it had been before.

Then there was a rhythmic and playful knock on the door, and Tara stood next to the island counter with a cake in her hands, and about twenty candles lit atop it. She called out, as casually as she could muster, "Come in!"

Denise had left the door unlocked, and the condo was completely silent as everyone waited with baited breath and listened to the sound of the door opening and Rosita stepping into the foyer.

"Where are you at, _puta_?!" Rosita called from the foyer, and her footsteps grew closer to the doorway.

"In the kitchen!" Tara called, stifling her laughter.

Rosita finally reached the doorway, Austin following closely behind her, where she stopped and asked, "Why's it so dark – "

" _SUR-PRISE_!"

The lights and music were turned back on simultaneously as everyone cried out in unison. Rosita's eyes were wide with shock, but within seconds, they were filling with tears and she was smiling broadly. She put her hands over her chest, laughing loudly as she watched Tara approach slowly, holding the cake out.

"Oh my fucking god, you did _not_!" Rosita laughed, staring at the cake and all the candles with tear-filled eyes.

"I _so_ did," Tara grinned, finally letting out her laughter. "I fucking _got_ you! I finally GOT you!"

Rosita laughed harder, then took a deep breath and blew out the candles on the cake. A few were left flickering and she took another breath, trying to stop herself from bursting into more laughter while Tara teased her. She blew again and finally extinguished the last of the candles, then turned to Austin, who was still standing behind her, and nudged him with a grin, quietly asking if he'd known. He shrugged and acted innocent, giving a mischievous smile.

Beth looked over and saw Daryl standing with his new mechanic friends, watching the scene with a small smile on his face. He must've felt her eyes on him because he turned his head and met her gaze. She smiled and raised her eyebrows, and he nodded back with a smirk.

She was glad she'd come tonight.

Rosita finally glanced behind Tara and saw the banner hanging on the wall, and she laughed loudly again. "You got the banner in fucking _Spanish_!"

Tara laughed as well, then grabbed Rosita by the shoulder and pushed her toward the living room with a grin, pointing to the machine sitting in the corner, " _And_ I rented a karaoke machine!"

Rosita covered her mouth with her hands and laughed, shaking her head. Her eyes were still filled with tears and she dabbed at the corners, unable to stop smiling.

A few minutes later, Rosita had gone around and greeted everyone, surprising Beth by hugging her happily when she got to her, while Beth wished her a very happy birthday – again. Even Daryl wrapped an arm around Rosita and muttered a "happy birthday" with a smile. Beth couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this much love and happiness in one place, and she sipped her soda while she contentedly watched Tara portion out a piece of cake and pour a strong drink for Rosita.

"Obligatory tequila shot!" Tara announced, setting out two shot glasses and filling them with tequila, then passing the bottle to the brown-haired guy so he could begin pouring more shots for other people.

"Oh, god," Rosita rolled her eyes dramatically but smiled. She took a quick bite of cake from the paper plate in front of her, then grabbed the shot glass and prepared to make a toast with Tara.

The girls clinked their tiny glasses together and downed the alcohol, and the other guests clapped and cheered happily. Beth clapped softly, still holding a cup in her hand, and when the music got turned up just a little louder and everyone began moving about the room to grab cake and shots of liquor, she glanced across the room at Daryl. When she found his eyes staring back at her from over the top of his cup, some of his hair hiding the rest of his face, she quickly looked away again and took another drink of soda.

As the sky darkened outside, the party grew rowdier. By the time the sun had set and the condo was alit with indoor lighting and reflections of passing cars' headlights and bright business signs outside, Beth was on her third cup of soda and she'd seen Tara and Rosita take at least five shots and mix a handful of drinks for themselves as well as for Austin, Daryl, and the brown-haired guy. To Beth's surprise, she'd even seen Denise take a drink, though she'd been coddling it for well over an hour and had only taken a few sips. Clem and Enid seemed to be in the same mindset as Beth for the night, as she'd seen them filling their cups with nothing but soda while they intermittently snacked on cake and chips.

Everyone seemed to loosen up and laugh more often, and the party bounced between drinking games, brief card games, and casual chatting and joking. Beth got in on a couple of the games and found that even the people she didn't know were treating her as part of the group, and they all talked and laughed as though they'd been friends for years.

For a couple of hours, Beth didn't even think of herself as anyone other than "Rosie."

The party slimmed down as the time passed. A couple of Rosita's mechanic friends said goodbye and left, and not long afterwards, the few people who Denise had been talking to also said their thanks and retired for the night, soon followed by Tara and Rosita's college friends. Beth looked around and realized there were only about four or five people left that she didn't know, including the brown-haired guy, who she'd overheard Tara referring to as "Spencer," though he and Beth hadn't exchanged more than three words. Daryl was still talking to the remaining mechanics in attendance, his third whiskey in his hand, when Tara and Rosita wandered over to the karaoke machine and turned off the music that had been playing through the surround sound speakers.

Beth sipped her drink and stood next to the couch while she watched with a smirk.

"It's karaoke time, _bitches_!" Tara announced loudly, fumbling to turn on the machine and grab the microphones.

Rosita took another hearty swig of her drink before setting it down on a nearby end table and taking the other microphone from Tara's hand. Beth glanced over at Daryl to see him watching the scene with the same amusement in his eyes, and then she looked over to see that Enid was standing in a corner with her boyfriend (whose name Beth still hadn't caught), while Clem was standing in the kitchen with Austin, who was turned toward her and seemed to be talking to her. Beth made eye contact with Clem for a second, but got distracted by the sound of music starting up on the karaoke machine, and she turned back around to watch Tara and Rosita perform a drunken and giggly rendition of "Push It" by Salt-N-Pepa.

At first, Beth was giggling at Tara and Rosita's performance, but as the song went on and they started dancing with each other, she found her own hips swaying a little and looked around to see that everyone seemed to be sharing the same feeling. Denise was standing a few feet away from Beth and was doing an exaggerated impression of bad twerking, specifically for Tara to see, which was causing Tara to burst into laughter as she tried to turn away and finish the song. Rosita was laughing, too, and her face was red from more than just alcohol.

When the song ended, Rosita shook her head, still laughing, and handed the microphone back to Tara before grabbing her drink and stepping away.

"I gotta take a break," she laughed, sipping her drink.

Tara fake whined, still giggling as well, "Oh, fine, ya _pussy_! I'm getting my money's worth for this – time for my solo!"

"Uh-oh," Denise said loudly, snickering, and the other guests laughed.

Tara raised her eyebrows and pointed to Denise, "Watch it, or I'll make you come up and duet a _Grease_ song with me!"

Denise laughed and Tara turned around to pick another song on the machine, suppressing her own drunken laughter. Beth glanced back to see Rosita joining Austin and Clem in the kitchen, and for a second, Beth thought Clem looked somehow relieved.

She heard the music starting up again – a familiar beat to a rap song she hadn't heard in ages – and she turned back around to find Daryl standing beside her. He had left the group across the room and wandered over to stand next to her, their arms nearly touching. She looked up at him and he looked back, but they just smiled at each other before giving their attention to Tara. Beth lifted the cup to her lips again, and she saw Daryl doing the same from the corner of her eye.

Tara's laughter disappeared, though she was still smiling, as she held the microphone to her mouth and rapped along to the beat of "Gangsta's Paradise" by Coolio, feigning a tougher voice to fit the song, " _As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I take a look at my life an' realize there's nothin' left! 'Cause I been blastin' an' laughin' so long…_ "

Beth watched with amusement, laughing as Tara rapped the song perfectly, even though she was facing the party the whole time, sometimes making eye contact or pointing out to Denise or Rosita.

Halfway through the song, Daryl leaned in and said, just loud enough for Beth to hear, "She ain't even glancin' at that damn screen. Ya think she practices this in her mirror or somethin'?"

Beth laughed and turned to see he was smiling playfully, and when he'd leaned in, his arm brushed against hers. She nodded and joked, "Or maybe the 'gangster' just comes naturally to her."

He chuckled and took another sip of his whiskey, turning his attention back to Tara.

As she neared the end of the song, and the final chorus was repeating, Denise rushed up and grabbed the other microphone and, with a red face, began singing along loudly and overdramatically, " _Why-y-y are we-e-e, so bli-i-ind to see-e-e! That the ones we hurt, are you-u-u and me-e-e!_ "

Tara finished the song despite her overwhelming laughter and when the music ended, she and Denise kissed happily and laughed together, leaning into each other. Then Tara turned and quickly chose another song, and the familiar music started up.

Denise shook her head, still laughing, and set her microphone down, then stepped back to watch with Beth and Daryl.

"Alright, motherfuckers, I want your asses _dancing_!" Tara announced into the microphone, and a hit from just a few years prior began playing.

Daryl shook his head and took another swig of whiskey as the song started and Tara's singing filled the condo again.

" _Oh-h, don't you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me! I said, you're holdin' back, she said – shut up and DANCE with me!_ "

Beth watched, smiling, and glanced around to see that most of the party had found Tara's suggestion to be a good one. Austin and Rosita were happily bopping around together in the dining room, as were Spencer and Clem, with playful smiles on their faces. Enid and her boyfriend were even swinging their hips and bumping into each other, enjoying the fun atmosphere.

"… _This woman is my destiny-y!_ " Tara sang, pointing to Denise with a grin on her face and causing Denise to blush while she swayed her hips to the music. " _She said, ooh-oh-ooh – shut up and DANCE WITH ME!_ "

Beth turned to look at Daryl and found him nodding his head along to the music and moving his legs a bit, a small smile on his lips. She thought the whiskey must've been starting to get to him when Denise turned and bumped his arm, then urged him to dance with her. His face turned nearly as red as hers had been, but as Tara continued belting out the lyrics, he started moving his hips and dancing along with Denise, a bashful grin on his face the whole time.

"… _A backless dress and some beat up sneaks, my discotheque Juliet teenage dream! I felt it in my chest as she looked at me, I knew we were bound to be together, bou-ound to be together!_ "

Denise danced around Daryl and reached Beth, nudging her arm this time and urging her to dance along with them. With a sheepish smile, Beth gave in and began imitating Daryl, swaying her hips a little more fluidly while holding her cup steady in one hand. They were dancing along as a trio now, like Tara's personal group of superfans, and Daryl had turned his body to face Beth until they were dancing together while Denise faced Tara. It seemed that the catchy tune was too dance-worthy for _any_ of them to stay still, and Tara was putting way too much effort into her karaoke to be ignored.

Beth grinned and the redness in her cheeks faded as she loosened up, seeing the playful sparkle in Daryl's dark blue eyes and the bashful smile that remained on his lips. They bumped hips a couple of times, laughing with each other, and then, on a whim, Beth grabbed his free hand with her own and moved it along with their bodies. He didn't pull away or slow his dancing, watching her with something that looked like a mixture of amusement and curiosity (or admiration?). His hand was just as calloused as she remembered, but it was warm, and he weaved his fingers into the spaces between hers, letting her swing his arm around.

Still grinning and growing breathless from dancing, Beth started singing along quietly, and Daryl watched her lips moving to the lyrics with a hint of wonder in his eyes, " _Oh, don't you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me – I said, you're holding back – she said, shut up and dance with me-e-e!_ "

Daryl's smile had grown wider and he didn't look away from Beth for a second – or the funny expressions she was making while she sang along – as she raised his hand above her head and spun herself in a jokingly dramatic way, whipping her wavy hair around her head. He laughed and this time, he held her hand steady and helped her to spin before catching her with his palm placed softly against the small of her back. She leaned into him for a second before pulling back and resuming their playful dance, fingers still interlocked.

They didn't break eye contact until the song was over and Tara had stopped singing. When the room grew momentarily quiet, they stopped dancing and pulled their hands back again, putting a few inches between their bodies once more. Daryl's smile faded along with the music.

Their cheeks were turning red again, and they looked away from each other and back to Tara, though Beth couldn't stop smiling bashfully. For the moment, she wasn't even thinking about it.

"Oh my god, you guys, I think this might be the most successful party I've thrown to date," Tara said into the microphone, sweaty and panting from her enthusiastic performance. "I got _Daryl_ _Dixon_ to fucking _dance_ , y'all!"

Denise laughed loudly and Rosita cheered from her spot in the dining room next to Austin. Clem clapped and laughed as well, and Beth glanced over to see Daryl shaking his head and avoiding looking at anyone while he pretended to drink from his cup. But she could see the color in his face once more. She was relieved that no one was looking at her – except Clem, who had a mischievous smirk on her face. But Beth pretended not to notice, and looked down at the drink in her hands instead.

Daryl, still blushing, cupped a hand around his mouth and yelled jokingly to Tara, "Play 'Free Bird'!"

" _No_ _requests_!" Tara said loudly, then burst into laughter, causing Daryl to laugh as well. They were clearly enjoying the mixture of alcohol and karaoke.

"Okay, birthday girl, come do a duet with me!" Tara said into the microphone. "You can pick _any_ song, I won't even complain!"

Rosita shook her head but Austin urged her forward and she gave in. As she passed Daryl, he called out, "Pick 'Free Bird'!"

"Shut up, _Daryl_!" Tara snapped, grinning.

Rosita was laughing when she joined Tara at the karaoke machine again. She started scrolling through the song options while Tara watched and joked with her. The guests went back to talking amongst each other. But Beth was still standing close enough to hear Daryl talking to Denise.

He started, "I'm gonna have a smoke. Y'all got roof access or – "

"Oh, yeah, there's a key hanging by the door," Denise replied. "The elevator will take you."

Daryl nodded and turned to walk away, but Beth reached out and touched his arm to stop him. He paused and looked at her, a little confused.

"You goin' outside?" She asked, as though she hadn't just heard him ask about the roof.

He nodded, and without hesitating, offered, "Wanna come?"

Beth nodded as well, "Yeah, I could use some fresh air."

Daryl gestured for her to follow him and he led the way back to the foyer and then to the front door, muttering, "Pro'lly be a pretty nice view, too."

He grabbed a small keyring containing one small key from the rack hanging by the door, then opened the door and stepped aside for Beth to walk out first. Once she was in the hallway, he stepped out as well and shut the door behind him, then they walked to the elevator at the end of the hall and he pressed the Up button. Beth kept her head low and hidden away from any potential cameras.

A few moments later, they were standing on the elevator alone, steadily moving up floor by floor. The silence was a bit deafening after the noise inside of the condo, but Beth clutched the plastic cup still in her hands and stared at the elevator doors. The flutters in her stomach were suddenly back. She realized the tension between them was only palpable when they were alone together – or was that just her imagination?

The elevator doors slid open again to reveal a large, open rooftop and the nighttime city skyline surrounding it. There was a modern, glass barrier framed with steel railing around the entire edge of the roof, and some of the furniture set out was still covered with tarps to protect from the recent weather changes. But toward the edge was a small corner tucked away, a couple of chairs set out around a glass patio table, surrounded by the numerous potted plants and flowers that were scattered around the rest of the rooftop.

There was no one else out one the roof tonight, even though the sky was a beautiful dark gray, spotted with a couple of bright stars here and there, the moon glowing dimly in the distance from behind passing clouds. The city was alive twenty-one stories down, and the sounds of car horns and police sirens could be heard from all over.

A strong breeze ruffled Beth's hair and she clutched her jacket tighter around her, glad that she'd thought to keep it on even though the dancing had warmed her up substantially. Autumn was in the air and the summer temperatures were quickly fleeing, sending goosebumps up and down Beth's arms. She was wishing she still had her long hair to protect the crook of her neck from the wind.

Daryl walked over to the corner of the roof with intent, then leaned back against the glass barrier and steel railing and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket. He set his half-empty cup of whiskey down on the nearby glass patio table and shook a single cigarette out into his hand. Beth had followed him over, and she leaned up against the glass barrier facing outward, gazing out at the skyline against the dark clouds. The air was chilly even without the wind, and when Beth looked out, she realized there was a dense layer of fog hovering over the city. A breeze whipped her hair to one side and she shivered against it, but reveled in the cool sensation against her perspiring skin.

Daryl held the pack of smokes out to her in offering.

"Want one?"

She looked over and shook her head, "No, thanks."

He pulled his hand back and shoved the pack back into his pocket, pulling out a black Bic lighter next. Beth watched him put the cigarette between his lips and hold the lighter up to the end, cupping his hand around it as he lit the flame and puffed the cigarette to life. When he stuffed the lighter back into his pocket and glanced over to meet her gaze, she quickly looked back out at the city that lay beneath the fog.

They stood a few feet apart, resting against the same railing, while Daryl smoked his cigarette and Beth marveled at the sights of the city and the sheer height of the rooftop, all in total silence. But she could feel the tension ebbing away slowly.

Halfway through his cigarette, Daryl spoke.

"You, uh – get that text I sent yesterday?"

She glanced over to see him staring down at his boots and putting the cigarette to his lips again for a deep exhale. The cherry of the tip glowed red in the night and his hair fell over his face.

"Yeah," she said simply, then looked back out toward the city. "Sorry I didn't answer. I wasn't feelin' very well yesterday…"

She saw him shrug briefly from the corner of her eye and he mumbled, "No biggie. Jus' checkin'."

She let the silence hang between them for a moment, still admiring the view of the skyline. She muttered, "You were right – it _is_ a pretty view up here."

Beth glanced at him and saw him turn his head and give her a brief smile, "Yeah."

She bit her lip but any words she might've wanted to say had left her for the time being. She tore her eyes away from the skyline and gazed at the flowers in a pot that sat on the floor beside her. Even in the dim lighting, she could tell they were some kind of aster flower – she could still see the picture in the book her momma had taught her from.

Smiling to herself, with the positive energy from the party still flowing through her, Beth asked, "What's your favorite flower?"

She kept looking around, squinting to see if she could identify the other flowers around the rooftop deck. Then she turned back to face Daryl, only half-expecting any kind of answer or acknowledgement.

He grunted, and for a second, she thought that would be his only reply. But then he muttered, "Cherokee Rose."

Beth raised her eyebrows in surprise and said, "Oh – the state flower of Georgia."

Daryl furrowed his brow and looked over at her, and she thought he was going to ask her how she knew that. Instead, he asked, "What's yers?"

Without a second thought, she answered, "Sunflower."

"State flower a Kansas," he said, taking another drag of his cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke. "But you ain't from Kansas."

Beth smiled, "So? Is that the only reason you like yours, 'cause it's your state flower?"

A smile tugged at his lips and he said, "Nah. 'Course not."

"Okay, then," she said, still watching him with a smile on her face. "Ain't gotta have a reason ta like somethin'."

He shrugged and took a long drag from his cigarette, holding it in his lungs for a moment before exhaling and snubbing the end out against the bottom of his boot. "Some things, I s'pose."

Then he tossed the cigarette butt over the railing and into the wind, where it was carried off before it could fall more than a few inches.

Beth had turned to watch it drift away when she felt a vibration in her jacket pocket. She reached in and grabbed her phone, pulling it out to find a new text notification on the screen. It was Clementine. Beth opened the message and read:

 _You didn't leave, did you?_

Beth quickly texted back, " _No, I'm on the roof, why?_ " and pressed Send. Within seconds, another text came in:

 _When are you coming back? I need to talk to you._

 _Oh, god,_ Beth thought. _Those words are never good. What could it be? I've only been gone a few minutes._

She looked over at Daryl and saw him staring out at the skyline, arms resting on the railing and body leaning up against the glass. There was a thoughtful look on his face.

"Ready ta go back in? Clem's textin' me," Beth asked quietly, watching for his reaction.

He seemed to snap back to reality and nodded, then silently led the way back to the elevator.

The elevator ride felt less tense to Beth this time around, though they still didn't talk. They got back inside the foyer of Denise and Tara's apartment and he hung the key back up, then headed for the kitchen to get another drink. Beth looked around the party when she emerged from the foyer, but didn't see Clem anywhere.

She backtracked to the foyer to find the door to the bathroom closed and the light on inside. Beth knocked on the door lightly and called out, "Clem?"

Almost on cue, she heard the tell-tale sounds of vomiting and coughing. A separate voice answered from inside the bathroom, "No – Tara got a little puke-y! We're in here!"

Beth recognized the voice as Denise, and she quickly realized Tara was the one she could hear heaving. Cringing, Beth stepped away from the door and walked back through the foyer to the party, searching through the rooms for any sign of Clem.

She saw Rosita in the kitchen, engrossed in a conversation with Spencer and her work friends, and Daryl joining them with his freshly poured drink. It appeared that Enid and her boyfriend had left while Beth and Daryl were on the roof, because they were nowhere to be seen. The music on the speakers was playing again, but at a much lower volume. The table of cake and snacks was a disaster area, and the karaoke machine was all but abandoned.

Confused, Beth turned and walked back into the foyer, stopping near the bathroom door to set her cup down on an end table and pull out her phone. She proceeded to text Clem, " _Where are you?_ "

When she looked up from her phone screen, about to press Send, she nearly jumped backward.

"Oh – I didn't see you there," she chuckled, clutching the phone in her hands.

Austin smiled and approached her, and she wasn't sure exactly where he'd come from because she hadn't seen him just a moment before.

"Hey," he nodded, a smirk on his face that made her feel a little uneasy. "What're you doin' over here?"

She shrugged, furrowing her brow and shoving her hands, and phone, into her jacket pockets. "Lookin' for Clem – what about you?"

He stepped closer to her, and she saw his eyes raking her up and down. She could smell the booze on him as well as see the way he was having trouble focusing his eyes, and she heard the slight slur in his speech.

"Lookin' for you," Austin muttered, and the tone he'd suddenly taken on sent chills up Beth's spine.

"What?" She asked, confused.

He furrowed his brow now and stared at her, still smirking like they had shared an inside joke, "I see the way you've been lookin' at me – it's okay… I know I shouldn't be, but – I'm attracted to you, too."

Beth immediately became nervous. She watched him leaning into her personal space, staring down at her cleavage and breathing his booze-y breath into her face.

"Dude – you're with _Rosita_ ," she said, almost positive that her face was displaying the pure disgust she was feeling. "I haven't been lookin' at you – I'm sorry, but I dunno what you're talking about…"

Austin rolled his eyes and kept smirking, then went back to blatantly staring at Beth's cleavage. She reached a hand up and tried to pull her jacket across her chest to cover it. He muttered, his voice low, "We're just fuck buddies… 'Sides, you're way too beautiful. You think I wouldn't notice you or somethin'?"

He chuckled at his little joke but Beth's insides were squirming. She glanced behind him and wished that someone would come around the corner, or emerge from one of the bedrooms, or that Tara and Denise would open the bathroom door. But it appeared that she was cornered in the foyer with Austin, the creep-in-disguise.

The spot where the gun usually rested under her arm was burning.

She averted her eyes away from his, leaning away from his intrusive stance and searching for a way to slip out. But she was afraid he'd grab her if she tried. "I – am _really_ not interested. Sorry, but – "

Then Austin was reaching a hand out toward her chest, and in Beth's mind, she was grabbing his wrist and twisting it so far back behind his head that he was squealing like a pig.

But in reality, she froze.

Her muscles stopped working and her breath caught in her throat, and no matter what she tried, she couldn't will herself to act. Her body was acting on its own accord, and it had chosen to seize up and play mannequin while Austin's clammy fingertips were tracing their way across the exposed skin of her chest. She wanted to ask him if he was blacked out drunk or just really, _really_ good at being a complete scumbag.

But all her words had escaped her and she couldn't seem to find the willpower to form a single sentence.

"That's a pretty necklace – you go t'church?" He mumbled, voice heavy with something that sounded ominous to Beth's ears, and he was tracing his fingertip around the necklace that rested against her chest. "This ain't _your_ ring now, is it?"

She could feel the bile rising in her throat and his finger started to drift lower. The smell of booze on his breath was making her stomach churn, and for the life of her, she couldn't get herself to _move_.

 _Please don't touch me,_ she thought, trying to force her mouth to speak but finding it frozen shut. _Please don't_ _ **fucking**_ _touch me…!_

"Hey – what the _fuck_ are you doin'?!"

 _Oh, thank God._

Beth was still frozen in place, but when Austin turned his head to see who was yelling at him, she looked behind him to see that Daryl had wandered into the foyer. She didn't know how long he'd been standing there, but she was the happiest she'd ever been to see him.

" _Excuse_ me?" Austin asked, turning his body away from Beth to face Daryl now.

Beth finally found the ability to move her muscles again, and she took the opportunity to step back a few feet, toward the front door.

"You heard me," Daryl repeated, and Beth could see the anger evident on his face. "What the _fuck_ d'you think yer doin'? She said she ain't interested, why you touchin' her an' shit? Why ain't you _backin'_ the _fuck_ up and goin' back in there with yer goddamn _girlfriend_?!"

The fury and sudden rise in volume of Daryl's voice sent a new fear through Beth, and all she could do was stand back and watch the scene unfold.

Austin was more than loosened up and inflated by all the liquor he'd drank, and he took a step toward Daryl, shoulders squared like he wanted to fight. "Why don't you mind your own goddamn business, _redneck_? We ain't datin', she knows I don't wanna be tied down, so how 'bout you go back to the trailer park you crawled out of and – "

Before he could finish the sentence, Daryl's fist was connecting with the slightly taller man's jaw.

Beth gasped, but it was drowned out by Austin's groans of pain and the sound of his feet stumbling backward on the wood floor. He reached up and grasped his face in agony, crying out in anger.

"Mother- _FUCKER_!"

He moved to swing at Daryl, but Daryl was far quicker on his feet and much less intoxicated. He stepped away and dodged the clumsy punch, then kicked a leg out hard and connected his boot with Austin's shin. In his drunken disorientation, Austin's leg buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor with a loud _thud_ and a cry of pain.

The commotion brought the rest of the party into the foyer, and they crowded into the small space to peer curiously at Daryl, who was standing over Austin and glaring down at him, waiting for him to try to get back up.

"What the – what _happened_?! Daryl? _Austin_?!" Rosita cried, shoving her way through the group of people to get to the front and examine the scene.

Before Daryl could answer, the bathroom door swung open and Denise emerged. At almost the same time, the door to the master bedroom opened as well, and Clem emerged, looking confused and shocked.

"What the fuck?" Denise asked, staring at the scene before her.

Austin was climbing to his feet, still unsteady. Daryl turned to Rosita first.

"Hate ta be the one t'tell ya, but yer boyfriend here's a perverted piece a _shit_ ," he growled, still bubbling with anger. "He was comin' onto Rosie while you was in the other fuckin' room."

Rosita's eyes grew to the size of saucers and her mouth dropped open. She looked at Austin first, then behind him to Beth.

"Is that – true?" She asked Beth.

Beth blinked, opening her mouth and closing it again. Her voice finally came back, and she opened her mouth again to choke out, "Y-yeah. Yes, it is. I – I told him I wasn't interested. But…"

She couldn't find the words to explain the rest, but it seemed to be enough for Rosita. Beth could tell from the expression on Rosita's face that, as a fellow woman, she didn't _need_ to explain any further.

Rosita looked at Austin, fire quickly building in her eyes.

"She's not lying," Clem spoke up from the bedroom doorway, and Rosita looked over at her. "He – came onto me, too. He's been flirting with me since I met him, but… I didn't wanna say anything. He tried to put his hand up my dress earlier."

Rosita's mouth dropped open even wider as she turned to Austin with bewilderment and disgust, spitting her words like venom, "I didn't _think_ she was lying, but – _seriously_?! Fucking _pendejo_!"

Beth's eyes darted to Daryl. A whole new rage appeared on his face, and he reared back like he was going to attack Austin.

"You _sick_ son of a – "

Denise rushed over just in time to help Rosita grab Daryl by the arms and stop him from lunging at Austin. The tall, drunken blond stumbled backward in fear and nearly lost his balance again. One of Rosita's mechanic friends stepped up and tried to help calm Daryl, and Rosita let go of his arm to approach Austin.

"You _fucking_ – _cabrón_ – you'd better get the _fuck_ out of here before I _beat_ your ass!" She yelled in his face, her own face turning dark red. "I can't _believe_ I fucking trusted you!"

Austin's face softened at Rosita's reaction and he put up his hands in defense, stammering, "Rosita, please – "

"Get the _FUCK_ out!" Daryl yelled, two pairs of hands still holding onto his arms as the others weren't sure if he'd try to leap again.

"You'd better leave now before I get security up here to _make_ you leave," Denise said, loudly and firmly while she pointed to the front door.

Austin took the hint and turned around, pushing past Beth before she could step out of the way. He reached the door and left, slamming it behind him.

Everyone was silent as Beth looked over all their faces, settling on Daryl's and trying to study his expression. He still looked too angry for words, but his eyes met hers and immediately softened.

Rosita sighed angrily, " _Hijo de puta_ …"

Clem spoke up again, "Rosita, I'm… so fucking sorry. I swear, I didn't – "

Rosita put up a hand to stop her, then rubbed the back of her neck and shook her head. "Don't. _None_ of you owes me any apologies. I'm just… I'm sorry I didn't see his _bullshit_ earlier. I can't _believe_ it went this far…"

Beth wasn't sure who looked more furious – Daryl or Rosita. She found them to be equally intimidating either way.

Silence settled over the foyer again, and most of the group wandered back to the kitchen and living room – presumably to gather their things and prepare to leave now that the night was officially over.

When it was just Daryl, Denise, Rosita, Clem, and Beth left standing in the foyer, Denise spoke up.

"Tara's gonna be so pissed she missed that."

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Yes, Spencer Monroe will be in this story, but nothing major. Thanks to my friend, Roberto, for helping me out with some creative Spanish swear words for this particular chapter lol. I've been wanting to write protective!Daryl for a while so I hope you all liked this, and if you didn't, please let me know! Also: let me know what your opinion of Clem is after this chapter and overall.  
If you haven't listened to the song that Daryl and Beth dance to in this chapter, you should, because it gives me good feelings when I listen to it and picture them dancing in Tara's condo lol the song is called "Shut Up and Dance" by Walk The Moon.  
As always, thank you to EVERYONE who has read, favorited, followed, and especially reviewed! Don't worry - the slow burn might be burning up, but we're still in store for a LOT more drama - and surprises :)  
Follow me on tumblr im-immortal for more updates and pictures for this fic.


	23. i can feel you breathe, i can feel your

**WARNING:** This chapter contains _very_ explicit depictions of sex...

* * *

 _ **i can feel you breathe, i can feel your heart beat faster**_

While Daryl stood near the front door and talked with Denise, presumably apologizing for fighting in her house, Beth stood on the other side of the foyer with Clem. The ruckus had died down and most of the other party-goers had left, wishing Rosita a happy birthday and their condolences for the crappy ending. Rosita seemed to brush it off, though, and continued sipping on a drink as she smiled and thanked everyone for surprising her. Meanwhile, Denise had put Tara to bed with a puke bucket stationed next to her – Daryl volunteered to carry her limp, passed-out body from the bathroom to the bedroom. Now it was just the few friends remaining: Beth, Clementine, Rosita, and Daryl.

Denise offered everyone to stay the night, assuring them all that it was late and they didn't have to make the trek home after the exhausting and dramatic ending to the party. But Daryl insisted he was fine to walk home – in fact, he looked forward to it. And Beth agreed that she'd like to sleep in her own bed, and a short walk home in the crisp, night air didn't sound too bad either.

Beth's hands were shoved in the pockets of her jacket as she stood near the door of the spare bedroom with Clem and talked quietly. Clem had her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned back against the wall and shifted her weight from one foot to the other while they spoke.

"You sure you don't want us to walk you home?" Beth asked.

Clem nodded. "Yeah, Denise said she'll give me a ride in the morning. I, uh, kinda wanna stay and talk to Rosita anyway…"

Beth nodded and didn't have to ask why. She hesitated, then asked quietly, "Was that… what you texted me about? I was lookin' for you, but then he cornered me an' – "

"Yeah," Clem said. "He was being weird as hell in the kitchen, and then I went to use the other bathroom in the master bedroom and he came in the bedroom and tried to slip his hand up my leg… I dunno. It's fucking _weird_. He was so… _ugh_. The whole time. And… I didn't even _say_ anything. I don't know why. I just… ducked back into the bathroom and hoped he'd leave."

Beth raised her eyebrows and looked at Clem with concern, but the tawny-skinned girl wouldn't meet her gaze. "It's not your fault… I froze up, too. It was just… unexpected. One minute, we're all havin' fun, and then the next… I dunno… I'm sorry I wasn't down here."

"It's not _your_ fault either," Clem assured her. "It's like my mom likes to say – he was just a wolf in sheep's clothing."

 _I know a thing or two about those,_ Beth thought to herself.

But she just pursed her lips and nodded.

Clem sighed, frustrated, and stared down at her shoes. "I just – I know _five_ different ways to break a dude's _finger_ , and when the situation actually arose… my mind just went blank. It's like, I was caught so off-guard or something…"

Beth didn't like the emptiness that was forming in the pit of her stomach. She swallowed hard and fidgeted with the lining of her jacket pockets.

"Well, next time we see him… keep one of those ways in mind an' we'll try it out on him," Beth said, a faint smirk growing on her lips as she watched Clem raise her head and look at her. "I'll hold him down for ya."

Clem smiled weakly and nodded. "I dunno – I'm pretty sure Daryl cracked his jaw tonight."

Beth chuckled and said, "So, that's the least he deserves."

Clem raised her eyebrows. "True."

About ten minutes later, Daryl and Beth had said their goodbyes and taken the elevator back down to the lobby. C.J. was gone for the night, and most of the lights were off. The door of the lobby was locked from the outside, and Daryl held it open for Beth to step outside before following her and letting the door fall shut, the lock clicking back into place.

The streets had grown foggier as it got later, and there weren't many cars out as Beth and Daryl headed down the sidewalk through the neighborhood. They passed a few people, but the streets were noticeably quieter than before the party, and most of the businesses were dark and locked up, some of them with big, black cages pulled down over their front doors and windows.

Beth kept her hands in her jacket pockets and stared straight ahead, but she was watching Daryl in her peripherals as he kept pace beside her, keeping on the side toward the street. Every other block or so, their arms would brush against each other – black leather against bare skin. After three blocks, Daryl pulled his pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket and shook one out, placing it between his lips and lighting the end.

They passed a house that was still pumping loud rap music from inside, the windows all alit and the sound of loud voices drifting out to the sidewalk. Beth and Daryl both glanced over at it as they passed, seeing the silhouettes of party-goers behind the curtains of the windows.

"Huh, looks excitin'," Daryl commented casually, flicking the ashes from his cigarette and taking another long drag.

Beth glanced over at him. "Maybe we should crash it."

He looked at her and gave a small smirk and a grunt that was almost a chuckle, then went back to gazing around at the surrounding houses and businesses.

After the rollercoaster of a night they'd experienced, the tension between them seemed to be keeping at bay. They were both walking together comfortably, the exhaustion evident in their long, slow strides. Another cold breeze chilled Beth's neck and she shivered and hugged her jacket closer, then looked over at Daryl.

"Aren't you cold?" She asked, nodding toward his lack of a jacket.

He shook his head and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. "Nah. I run hot."

Beth raised her eyebrows and moved her gaze down from his exposed arms to the knuckles of his hand – even from a short distance, she could see that they were red and slightly swollen.

"Oh – is your hand okay?" She asked, and slowed her pace to instinctively reach out and take his wrist in both of her hands, lifting his hand to inspect it closer.

Daryl twitched like he was going to pull his hand back, but then seemed to stop himself and slowed his pace to match Beth's while he allowed her to squint down at his swollen knuckles. She touched them gently with her fingertips, watching the pressure create a white indentation before quickly turning back to red. He shrugged.

"I'll be fine," he said.

Beth touched his middle knuckle gently. "Does it hurt?"

Daryl shrugged again. "Ain't bad. I've had worse... Just gonna put some ice on it when we get home."

She nodded and let go of his wrist, and he let his arm fall back to his side as he resumed smoking his cigarette. Beth shoved her hands back in her pockets.

"Are _you_ alright?" He mumbled, and when she looked at him, he kept his eyes on his boots while he took a long drag off the cigarette.

She nodded, and he turned his head to finally meet her eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He was silent for a second, maintaining eye contact, then muttered, "You know what I mean..."

Beth broke their gaze and turned back to look ahead. She swallowed past a knot that was forming in her throat and said plainly, "Ain't bad. I've had worse."

She hesitated but then turned her head to look at his face again and found his eyes studying her while he chewed on his lower lip. She wondered what was going through his mind.

They continued in silence for a few minutes, but it felt heavy around them now, like the fog that surrounded them. Daryl tossed the butt of his cigarette out into the street and kicked a small rock on the sidewalk in passing, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Beth's mind was racing with a handful of different thoughts, but she remained silent. She tried to stop replaying the incident with Austin in her head, but it wouldn't leave her. She had a cluster of feelings blending around in her gut, but the strongest was guilt. A dozen words began to form on the tip of her tongue, a hundred sentences that she'd started in her head. But none of them sounded right… and then she'd waited too long to bring any of it up casually. So she didn't even open her mouth. Instead, she chose to remain silent, continuing to watch Daryl from her peripherals as they took their last turn toward the apartment.

As they approached a particularly empty street, Beth noticed that Daryl was looking around a lot more than usual, and he had begun to walk closer to her, until their arms were touching with every step they took and the musky scent of his aftershave was filling her nostrils. She finally looked over at him and realized he was leaning into her and speeding up their pace.

"What's wrong?" She asked, quizzical look on her face as she glanced around in search of an explanation.

"Huh?" Daryl asked, looking at her but not leaning away or slowing down.

"What – why're you walkin' so fast? An' you look – paranoid. Are you okay?" Beth asked.

Daryl frowned and glanced around again, then lowered his voice and muttered, "'S jus' a bad area. Got robbed on this street a few months back."

"Oh, God," Beth said.

"Don't worry, it's fine, jus' walk a little faster till we get farther up the street," he assured her, but she didn't stop glancing around and watching Daryl's movements.

They didn't get far when Beth saw movement from the corner of her eye, and she turned her head to see a shadowed figure emerging from an alley across the street. In the dark and the fog, Beth couldn't see their face or their clothes, but she could tell they were tall and hunching their shoulders over, and they looked like they were staring right at her and Daryl. A shiver ran down her spine and she tore her eyes away, but she could still feel the figure watching her.

She started, "Um – "

"I know, I see 'em," Daryl muttered, just loud enough that Beth could hear it, and she pursed her lips tightly.

Then he reached out and gently took her wrist, pulling her hand from her jacket pocket and grasping it in his own, letting their arms hang together between them. He laced their fingers together and clasped her hand firmly, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he sped up their pace again. She was too busy worrying about the dark figure to give any attention to the rapid fluttering in her stomach.

She took longer strides to keep up and leaned into his side without a second thought. Her heart was beating faster, but she could feel Daryl's body warmth radiating out from him, and she found herself feeling safer.

It didn't take more than five minutes for them to get out of the sketchy area and come within viewing distance of the apartment. When Daryl finally decided they were safe, he slowed his pace again and Beth let out a silent sigh of relief. But he didn't lean away from her or let go of her hand.

She was afraid he would notice how sweaty her palm was becoming.

When they approached the front door of the apartment building, Daryl reached out with his free hand and opened the door, then let go of Beth's hand so she could step through the doorway. They walked through the dimly lit lobby together in silence then climbed the three flights of stairs to their landing, both of them breathing heavily by the time they'd reached the top.

Carol's apartment was dark and quiet, and Beth and Daryl stepped softly through the hallway. Daryl pulled out his keys and unlocked the door to 3A, then opened the door and held it for Beth again.

The apartment was silent and settled, and the air was a bit stale from having the windows closed all day. There was still a hint of soap and Clementine's perfume in the air from hours before, as well as a trace of Daryl's aftershave. He flipped the light switch and filled the living room with light. Beth slipped off her jacket and hung it up, then crossed the room to one of the windows in the living room, lifting it a few inches and letting in a burst of damp, chilly air.

Daryl headed for the kitchen in silence while Beth stood at the window and looked down at the fog and the street, breathing in the fresh air.

"Were you even drinkin'?" He asked from the kitchen as he peered into the fridge.

"No," she answered, turning around and walking toward the kitchen to stand by the bar. "Didn't feel like it."

"'Spose ya don't want a drink now then," Daryl said, still gazing into the open fridge.

Beth shook her head. "Think I'll pass for tonight."

He nodded, reaching into the fridge toward the bottom shelf. "Me, too. Want a water?"

He pulled out a plastic water bottle from the fridge and held it out in offering.

"Thanks," Beth said, taking it and carefully twisting off the lid.

Daryl reached back in and grabbed a bottle for himself, then closed the fridge and twisted off the plastic cap to down half the water in one drink. Beth couldn't help but notice his swollen knuckles.

He then turned around and opened the freezer, reaching in and pulling out a small, blue icepack. He shut the freezer and set the water bottle down on the counter, then pressed the icepack to his knuckles and held it there. He let out a sigh of relief.

"That's better," he said, meeting Beth's gaze as he held the icepack to the red skin. "Might be a li'l sore tomorrow, but I'll be fine by Monday."

Beth nodded, feeling that familiar stab of guilt again.

"You don't _have_ ta protect me, ya know."

The words had come out before she could mull them over. It was a thought that had crossed her mind multiple times already, and it was a thought that caused as much guilt as it explained. But she felt she needed to say it, just so she'd know that _he_ knew.

A look of confusion passed over his face and he said, "What? 'Course I don't. Don't _have_ ta do shit, but I like bein' able t'sleep at night."

Beth knew she shouldn't have said it, and the look of indignation he was giving her right now assured her of that. But then his features softened, though his brow remained furrowed.

He shrugged and added, "I know ya coulda handled yerself. I wasn't gonna step in, but he wasn't backin' off… an' then he touched you an' – well, I kinda lost it. But…"

She reiterated, "I just mean – I don't want you to _feel_ like you have to protect me or somethin'…"

His expression didn't change and he paused. Then he said, "That what ya think a me? Ya think I do shit outta obligation and not just 'cause I wanna be a… decent person?"

Now it was Beth's turn to furrow her brow. "No, of course not. I _know_ you're a decent person – a _good_ person. I just – I dunno. Sometimes, I feel like such a – "

"Burden?" He finished for her, his eyes softening.

She sucked in her bottom lip and nodded.

Daryl shook his head and looked down at the icepack on his knuckles. "I can't fix that feelin' for ya, I know that much. But I can tell ya it's bullshit… Yer not a burden."

Beth looked down at her boots, feeling the awkward tension, as well as Daryl's eyes on her again. She had a lot of things she wanted to say, a lot of things she thought she might be able to explain to him. But she decided against it, knowing better than to follow her first impulse.

"Carol likes ya, Mal likes ya – an' obviously, _I_ like ya," he continued after a moment of silence, then awkwardly added, "…Hell, even _Clem_ likes ya."

Beth raised her head to see his cheeks turning pink and he looked back down at his icepack, letting his hair fall over his face.

"You know it ain't about bein' liked," she said softly.

He met her gaze again and chewed on the inside of his cheek, then slowly nodded. He looked her up and down and asked, "You sure he didn't do nothin' to ya? I mean – nothin' more."

Beth started, "I told you – "

But Daryl stopped her, "I know what you said – but tellin' me you've had worse don't ease my mind... Don't mean fer you what it means fer me."

This caught her by surprise and she swallowed hard. But then she nodded and said, quietly, "Yeah, I'm fine. He didn't do anythin' except creep me out."

Daryl's dark eyes were studying her but he seemed satisfied with this answer and convinced that she was telling the truth. "Good… 'Cause I woulda had ta kill him."

He smirked at his joke but Beth couldn't seem to get her mouth to form a smile at that particular sentiment. She looked away and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Wanted to after what Clem said," he grumbled. "Had a weird feelin' about him from the get-go… Met him a couple times but I didn't know shit about him ta say nothin'."

Beth blurted out, "I'm glad you were there."

She looked up to see his reaction and found him looking away sheepishly.

"Really," she continued. "I… didn't know what to do. It's like… I was so – I'm just glad you were there, and… thank you for that."

She lost track of what point she was trying to make exactly and let her awkward statement hang in the air, avoiding looking at his face. She couldn't seem to find the words to explain exactly _what_ had happened to her when Austin touched her, or why she hadn't just slapped him or stepped away or _something_. Not that Daryl would understand anyway, even if she were able to put it into words.

"Ain't somethin' ya gotta be thankin' me for," he said. "Ya coulda handled yourself, when it came down to it… But ya shouldn't have to. I was expectin' ta find ya barfing in the bathroom. Holdin' yer hair or crackin' some asshole's jaw, it's all the same to me."

Beth couldn't hold back the smirk that formed on her lips at that, and she finally met his gaze to find a sparkle in his eyes and a playful half-smile on his face.

" _Really_? You woulda held my hair while I barfed?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow and suppressing a laugh.

He chuckled. "Why not. I'm a dad – a li'l vomit don't scare me none."

Without a single thought of the awkward physical tension in her mind, Beth stepped forward and closed the distance between them, her lips forming a grateful smile. She opened her arms and leaned in to wrap them around his middle, the cold icepack pressing against the front of her jacket.

When he realized what was happening, he brought the icepack away from his knuckles and clutched it in his hand while wrapping his own arms tentatively around her small frame, resting his hands together in the middle of her back. She couldn't see his face, but she had a feeling that he was smiling, too.

Beth gave his torso a light squeeze with her arms, closing her eyes and resting her head against Daryl's broad chest. She breathed in his musky scent mixed with cigarettes and whiskey, and all the nerves that had been jittering around inside her for the last hour seemed to calm and relax. She could feel his muscles tensing beneath her, but after a couple of seconds, they relaxed, too, and then he was taking a deep breath in and holding it until his heart sped up. Beth could hear it pounding away through the soft, plaid cotton beneath her ear – or was that her own heart pounding in her ears?

They stayed like that for at least a solid minute. It felt like longer, though. When she finally pulled away, Beth knew she didn't have to explain herself. There was a look of contentment in Daryl's eyes, and she was just now noticing how tired he appeared.

"Um – are you hungry?" She spoke past her unusually dry mouth. "Think I might… make a sandwich or somethin'."

He nodded, licking his lips and clearing his throat before he answered, "Yeah, sounds good."

Beth stepped around him and started gathering what she needed to make two sandwiches. Daryl stepped out of her way and stood on the threshold of the kitchen to watch her while he held the icepack to his knuckles.

A short while later, they were sitting across from each other at the small dining table, eating turkey and cheese sandwiches and sipping from their bottles of water. Daryl ate like he'd been starving for hours and Beth tried not to stare, but she started giggling to herself and it caught his attention.

"What?" He asked, still chewing.

She smiled. "Should I have made you two sandwiches? You're eatin' like you haven't had food in days."

He smirked and wiped his face with a napkin, "Whatever, I'm enjoyin' my meal. Don't judge me."

Beth chuckled and went back to eating.

They ate in silence for the next few minutes. Beth was focused on her sandwich, as well as all the thoughts in the back of her head that had been nagging her all night.

When Daryl spoke, he was still looking at the last bit of sandwich in his hand, as though he were contemplating how to properly ingest it.

"'S been almost two weeks… so whatcha thinkin' about stayin'?"

She looked up, mouth stopping mid-chew. It took her a second to process his question, but he was still staring at his sandwich.

She shrugged, chewing and swallowing her food before answering. "Well, I paid for a month, so I figured I'd at least stay… that long…"

Daryl finally stuffed the last bite of sandwich into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully, still not looking at Beth. He finished it and wiped his mouth with the napkin, then his hands.

"'Course, but what about after that? 'Spose you'll get all yer paperwork together an' start makin' a plan 'fore too long… Ya tryin' ta get outta New York, or…?"

Beth was a little surprised by the question and the expression of concern. But if she were being honest with herself, she could hear the subtle tone that lay beneath it. There were some things that even Daryl couldn't hide, and Beth was far from unobservant.

"Honestly," she started, staring down at the half-eaten sandwich in her hands. "I dunno… it's kinda nice bein' _off-the-grid_ , and – well, it's nice to feel safe. For the first time in… a while."

"Yeah, I get it," Daryl mumbled, but she saw the brief flash of a sheepish smile after her last statement. "So, maybe ya jus' stay an'… figure it out. Later."

Beth looked up and gazed at Daryl until he lifted his eyes to meet hers. He leaned back in his chair and started chewing on the tip of his thumb but didn't break their thoughtful eye contact.

"When is 'later'?" She asked quietly.

He shrugged and returned his hand to his lap only to start picking at his fingernails, almost nervously. His response was muffled grumbling. "I'ono… later…"

"Five months? Six?"

"Whatever," he grumbled, then quickly looked down at his hands. "Don't matter t'me."

Beth smirked knowingly. "Not at all? I mean, I s'pose you could just find another roommate on Craigslist – "

Daryl's voice suddenly became clearer as he cut her off and the words spilled from his mouth like they'd been building up, "Look, I fucked up the other night. I know you _say_ it's okay, an' I know you say ya feel safe, but if ya wanna leave, I ain't stoppin' ya. There won't be hard feelin's or anything. Just – gimme some notice so I can make arrangements. That's all."

She was a bit taken aback by his words, but when she saw the anxious look on his face as he waited for her reaction, she smiled again and said, "Daryl – I don't _wanna_ leave. I _do_ feel safe, I'm not just sayin' it... I promise."

He studied her face like he didn't believe her at first, and she gave him a look of reassurance.

She hesitated, "The other night… was…"

"Stupid," Daryl finished for her. "I'm a goddamn jackass. Ya still had a black eye from the last douchebag in yer life when I met you, ya don't need a different kinda douchebag in yer life."

Beth noticed how bitterly he spoke of himself, and she shook her head. "No, that's not at all what I was gonna say. Or what I was thinkin'... You're not _stupid_ , Daryl."

 _I am,_ she thought, but she couldn't say it aloud.

She started hesitantly, "It was…"

The gravity of their conversation suddenly struck her and her cheeks began heating up. She tore her eyes away from Daryl's and looked back to her sandwich, then set it down and wiped her hands with the napkin, finding her appetite to be rapidly fleeing.

"…We can jus' forget about it," Daryl said quietly.

The silence hung around them for a moment, and then Daryl was standing up from the chair and stretching. He reached out and collected their plates and used napkins.

"Thanks," Beth mumbled, and he nodded before heading to the kitchen.

She watched him for a second, debating on whether she should say anything else. But he seemed to be pretty over the whole conversation, and she didn't want to push it and irritate him. Nor did she want to sit here and try to convince him that she wasn't lying about feeling safe – which was hard to do when it wasn't the _main_ thing she was lying about. There was no possible way for her to explain that he could never – nor anyone else alive – make her feel _truly_ safe again. Not while she was still in America, anyway.

Which also meant that she couldn't explain to him that he actually _did_ make her feel about as safe as possible, under the current circumstances.

She stood and went to the coat rack to get her phone from the pocket of her jacket, then walked to the doorway of her bedroom. She turned and watched Daryl drying his hands with a towel.

"I'm – gonna go to bed," she said.

He nodded. "Me, too. 'Night."

She turned around and slipped into her bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her. For reasons she couldn't explain, her heart was racing.

Beth unlaced and kicked aside her boots, stripped off her clothes, and slipped on a baggy shirt over her panties before she plopped down into bed and slipped beneath the comforter. She switched off the bedside lamp and grabbed her phone. Then she spent the next fifteen minutes scrolling through the news sites and absent-mindedly checking for any updates on her story while she listened to Daryl leave the kitchen, use the bathroom, and then shut his bedroom door.

She found nothing new from Georgia (for now, thankfully), and miraculously, national news was still completely ignoring the Greene name. There was nothing else new to check on – no text messages or emails, which also meant no word from Jesus. But that was expected.

She climbed out of bed quietly and went to the drawer that held her bag, pulling it open carefully so as not to make any noise. Then she reached into the bag and dug around for a second before pulling out the pocket watch. She could barely see it in the dark bedroom, but she didn't need to. She grasped it tightly and held it against her chest for a moment, and something that sounded like a prayer or a desperate plea to God ran through her mind. Then she went back to the bed and slipped the watch beneath her pillow.

Once the apartment had remained silent for at least five minutes, Beth plugged her phone in and slipped on some pants. Then she quietly walked out of her bedroom and through the hall to the bathroom. She shut the door and turned on the light, running warm water in the sink and grabbing a clean washcloth.

As she scrubbed the makeup from her face and watched her old self reappear in the mirror – the blonde hair reflecting in the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom even beneath the layer of black dye – she found herself unable to shake Daryl from her mind.

She felt selfish and shallow for it, but for the first time in two weeks, her mind was filled with something other than the doom her family was facing. And also for the first time, this was a problem that she had her own kind of control over. And she could probably fix it – if she could muster the courage and take a leap of faith, that is.

 _When was the last time I did something out of faith?_ She asked herself. _When was the last time I felt… unconditionally safe?_

After patting her face dry with a towel and running a brush through her hair, Beth shut off the bathroom light and stepped out into the hallway.

It took a second for her eyes to adjust to the darkness in the apartment, and when they did, she found them staring down at Daryl's bedroom door. Her feet urged her forward, and she wasn't sure why, but she let them.

And then she was standing against the wall, staring at his closed door. And all his grumbled words and racing heartbeats were replaying in her mind.

She could smell his musky scent from where she stood. He'd left traces all over the apartment, from the bathroom all the way down the hall. The fluttering was starting back up in her stomach and she placed a hand over the thin cotton covering her tummy, as if to ease the chaos inside. A hundred different images were flashing through her mind, and most of them were the kinds that she didn't picture except when she was lying in the bath or in bed. She could still feel Daryl's heartbeat pounding against her ear. She could still feel his tight grasp on her hand. She could even feel his hands, so hesitantly, slipping beneath her hips.

Beth shook her head, trying to empty her head of those thoughts.

But then all she could picture was the other night, and then she was reliving how his calloused fingers felt against her face and how his hair tickled her cheek and how gently and impossibly _softly_ he kissed her, like…

 _Like I was made of glass,_ she thought.

But it was more than that. It wasn't that he was trying to avoid _cracking_ the glass – it was already cracked, maybe even shattered. No, he was just trying to avoid getting cut by the sharp edges.

And then Beth's hand was absent-mindedly wrapping around her wrist and running her thumb over the thick line of scar tissue that was there.

 _This is stupid,_ she told herself. _I'm being so stupid. This isn't important – I won't even be here long. I shouldn't be worrying about this kind of shit, not when I have an entire bag's worth of bigger problems. Not when my ex-boyfriend is buried six feet under and my entire family is sitting behind bars…_

She sighed and looked away from Daryl's door, the guilt weighing down heavily on whatever had been fluttering inside her stomach.

 _I'm so… selfish,_ Beth thought.

She didn't know how long she was standing there. Admittedly, she zoned out for a bit and was lost in thought. Looking back on it, she realized it must've looked pretty creepy. And she certainly understood the startled look on Daryl's face when he finally opened the door and found her there, less than a foot away from him.

What Beth didn't understand was how he'd known she was out there – or had it just been coincidence? She didn't get the feeling that he had been on his way to the bathroom. And when he looked at her, a look of recognition came over his face, like he could see all the debris flying around inside her head.

And then the guilt was floating away and her body was light again, and she stared through the dark at Daryl's shadowed face and his shirtless form. Her heart skipped.

There it was: that tension. That giant, invisible _something_ that was constantly hovering around them. That thing that Beth had told herself she had no explanation for and didn't want to think about at least a million times over by now.

That thing that… if she were _completely_ honest with herself…

 _I know_ _ **exactly**_ _what it is,_ Beth thought.

"Ya alright?" Daryl asked quietly, but she could tell from his voice that he hadn't fallen asleep yet.

She wondered if he'd been lying awake in bed, too, trying to calm a noisy mind.

She nodded, and before she could allow herself the chance to hesitate, she said, "We don't have to forget about it. I – I didn't _hate_ it. It was… I didn't know how t'react..."

She watched his face, waiting to gauge his reaction, but it was unchanging, and he seemed to be waiting for her to go on.

She suddenly felt stupid and added half-heartedly, "But, uh – maybe we were just… drunk…"

Daryl narrowed his eyes in confusion for a second, but then clarity crossed his face and he said softly, "I… wasn't drunk."

Beth paused, and the feeling of stupidity was quickly replaced with surprise. Then she asked, "You weren't?"

He shook his head. "Pretty buzzed, but – nah, not drunk."

"Oh," she said.

She felt her face turning red and she was grateful for the lack of lighting at this end of the hallway.

 _So he feels it, too… right?_ She wanted to ask, but couldn't find the words.

"…Were you?" Daryl asked, and in the silence of the apartment, she could hear him swallowing hard right after the question came out.

She shook her head. "No…"

She paused for a beat to see if he would say anything, but she could see him chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"Are you drunk now…?" She asked, and her mouth was so dry that she nearly choked on the words.

"…No."

One second, Beth was watching Daryl's lips close after the word slipped out, and the next, her body was moving before her brain could register it, and she was taking a step forward and reaching a hand out to place her palm against the warm skin of his bare chest. Her fingers rested just to the left of his _Malachi_ tattoo, and she stood up on tiptoes and stretched upward until her eyes were closing and their lips were hesitantly meeting.

A shiver started at the top of her head and made its way down her body to the very tips of her toes. The fluttering in her stomach was exploding into fireworks. She didn't want to lean away, or lean any farther into him. She was still expecting him to push her away or step back and tell her she was acting ridiculously and that she needed to go to bed.

He didn't do either of those things, though.

His voice was ringing in her head with what he'd said earlier. " _Ya still had a black eye from the last douchebag in yer life when I met you…"_

And she asked herself, _Then how come it feels like so long ago? Why does it feel like that happened to a different Beth and not me?_

But within seconds, everything floated away. All the uncertainty she'd felt and the thousands of questions that had been running through her head, all the guilt that had threatened to pull her down beneath the earth…

All the doubts she'd had about being able to – or even _wanting_ to – confront the feelings that Daryl had been giving her.

 _Why did I avoid this for so long?_ She thought as he deepened the kiss and sucked on her bottom lip.

A warm, pleasant tingling was forming in her gut and she couldn't remember the last time that the feeling had been so _pure_ for her. There was no obligation behind it, no unclear intentions or hurtful words, no bruises or red wrists. It wasn't an annoyance or another burden, and – at least for now – she didn't feel an ounce of guilt or regret.

The tingling was quickly spreading downwards, between her legs, and she was suddenly _very_ conscious of the thin layers that covered her – and the lack of clothing on Daryl.

After an impossibly long couple of seconds, she pulled back and stood flat on her feet again.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, studying his face in the dim light.

He looked like he was about to say something, but then his hooded eyes drifted to her lips and he was reaching out to wrap an arm around her waist and place his hand in the small of her back, pulling her back into him. This time, though, their bodies were pressed together, and he leaned his head down to press his lips against hers once more.

All the unfamiliar and forgotten feelings that had been forming inside Beth for the last week were swirling up stronger than ever and brewing to the surface. She leaned into Daryl, letting him hold her close with one arm as he reached up with his other hand and placed it softly against the back of her neck. She placed both her hands against his bare chest, sliding one hand up to rest on his shoulder.

They kissed deeper this time, mouths hungry for each other. Their breathing grew heavier, and Beth could hear nothing but Daryl's wet lips on hers and her own heart pounding in her ears.

A full minute later and they were both panting, and Daryl finally pulled his head away briefly. Beth opened her eyes to find him staring at her, and she could almost see all the questions inside his head. But he didn't move his hands, and he didn't pull away any farther. They were pressing their bodies so tightly together that she could feel his heart beating through her own chest.

He licked his lips and visibly swallowed, then breathed out, "What're we doin'…?"

His dark blue eyes were searching her face for an answer, and she returned his intense gaze, unblinking.

She had to find the ability to speak before she could whisper back, "We can figure it out later…"

She thought she saw his lips forming a smile, but before she could really tell, he was pulling her face back in to meet his and she was happily allowing him. Their lips crashed into each other again and quickly turned into a desperate grappling of mouths, their breathing heavy as both their heartrates jumped.

Daryl seemed content with standing in the doorway and having a heated make-out session, but Beth's legs were beginning to grow tired – and some of her _other_ , more neglected muscles were crying out for attention as well.

Without breaking their kiss, she gently pushed on his chest with her hands and urged his body backward with her own. He picked up on the physical cues and carefully led her along with him as they blindly stumbled toward the bed in the corner of the dark bedroom.

They refused to pull apart, even for a second, and when the back of Daryl's knees ran into the edge of the bed, he carefully sat down. Then he placed his hands gently on Beth's hips and eased her down into his lap until she was straddling him. She had a leg on either side of his lap, resting on her knees.

He left one hand resting on her hip while the other slid up to the small of her back, slipping beneath the fabric of her shirt to rest his warm palm against her bare skin. She shivered at his touch and he seemed to notice, because he slipped the fingers of his other hand underneath her shirt and pressed his thumb against the exposed flesh on her hipbone. She shivered again and his tongue darted out of his mouth and against her lips, and then he was sucking on her bottom lip again, then nibbling.

And then his fingers were pressing harder against her skin and she could feel all the built-up tension between them beginning to burst open, like an overinflated balloon popping in slow-motion.

Beth could think of nothing else except Daryl's taste, his smell, the feel of his skin and stubble. Her lips were raw and swollen, but she had no desire to stop kissing him. The sensation between her legs had grown to an aching, and she was a bit surprised at how eager her body was for Daryl's. There was no part of her that had thought she'd feel anywhere close to this comfortable with someone she just met, let alone _this_ someone.

Yet here she was, slowly inching a hand down the smooth skin of his broad chest, along his tummy, and then to the waistband of his pajama pants. Her fingertips teased his bare skin just beneath the waistband while she nipped at his lower lip, and he groaned from deep in his throat. Another shiver ran through her at the sound, and she felt his fingers digging into her lower back. She was reminded of the sounds she overheard from the bathroom and how she'd recreated them, privately, in her head so many times.

She thought she felt her fingertips graze over a thick scar somewhere near his hip, and for a split-second, she thought about looking down and asking him what it was. But she didn't want to pull away from his lips for that long, and once her fingers were beneath his waistband, she'd completely forgotten about it.

And then Beth had pressed herself just close enough to feel Daryl's bulge poking at her inner thigh from beneath his pants, and the fabric that separated them was so thin that she could feel it twitch against her. She smiled against his mouth and he groaned again, but he seemed to be keeping his hands in place despite his desire to move them elsewhere.

As she pulled away from his mouth, she kept his bottom lip clamped lightly between her teeth before letting go. Then she leaned back in and whispered against his mouth, " _Touch_ me."

She left her hand in his waistband where it was and moved the other to grab his hand. She thought his palm felt a little clammy but didn't care in the least as she slowly guided it up and under her shirt, across her bare skin until his fingertips were grazing the underside of one breast. Then she pressed her lips against his again and returned her hand to his shoulder, giving him the silent go-ahead to freely roam.

Hesitantly at first, Daryl inched his hand up farther and farther until his palm was cupping Beth's breast. He gently groped and massaged, and she could feel his erection twitching against her thigh again. She groaned into his mouth in satisfaction, and his hand switched to her other breast eagerly. His calloused skin was a stark contrast to the pale, supple skin of her breasts, but he touched her so softly that goosebumps formed all along her back.

She found herself grinding down into him, spreading her legs wider to slide down and get closer to him. His erection was twitching wildly as she pressed herself against it. Daryl groaned into her mouth again and she flicked her tongue out to meet his. His fingers dug into her skin harder, and his other hand gave her breast a firm squeeze.

When they finally pulled apart to take in a few deep breaths, their lips hovered over one another's.

Daryl breathed out the start of a sentence. " _Fuck_ , yer so…"

But the words seemed to escape him as Beth stared back with licentious eyes, eyelids hanging heavy and lips parted while she still struggled to catch her breath. He pressed his mouth against hers once more and pressed his palm firmly into her lower back, pulling her in closer against him. Beth didn't object, and he gently pinched her nipple between his fingers, causing her to instinctually moan against him.

The sudden realization that her nipples were unusually sensitive made her forget about what he had been about to say, though she could almost read the last word in his eyes before he'd leaned back in.

She could feel his erection growing harder against her inner thigh, and the hand that was still beneath his waistband began to slip its way down until she could feel coarse curls and heat against her fingers.

But just before she could reach down any farther, Daryl was letting go of Beth's breast and moving both his hands to grab her by the hips. Then he flipped her around until they had traded spots and she was sitting on the bed while he rested on his knees over her. He leaned down and kissed her again, then softly pushed her back until he'd guided her into lying down.

She started to feel frustrated that he'd stopped her, but it quickly faded as his lips left hers and began trailing kisses along her jawline, down her neck, right under her ear…

His lips on such a sensitive spot caused her entire left side to tingle, and she squirmed against him, suppressing a giggle. Then he was flicking his tongue out here and there, trailing his lips down her neck, across her collarbone. He lifted the hem of her oversized shirt with careful fingers until he'd pulled it up above her breasts, giving his mouth access to the rest of her bare chest. He left tiny wet kisses like a pattern down her skin, until he was sliding his hands up her sides to grasp her pert breasts.

Beth squirmed beneath him, his facial hair tickling the sensitive skin of her tummy while his lips teased the tender spot just above her pantyline. He let the very tip of his tongue leave a tiny trail across her skin, sending more shivers and goosebumps up and down her legs.

The spot between her legs was practically _pulsating_ by now. She slightly thrust her hips upwards, against Daryl, physically begging him to do something more. He slid his hands back down and gently tugged on the top of Beth's pants until he was slipping them down her thighs and pulling them off, one leg at a time. While he tossed them to the floor, Beth quickly lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it aside as well.

She reached out and slipped her fingers underneath the stretchy waistband of Daryl's pajama pants, giving it a meaningful tug. He glanced at her through the darkness – she could see how red his lips were in the dim light coming from the nightlight in the opposite corner of the bedroom. They made a wordless exchange with their expressions and he stood up just long enough to slip off his pajama pants before resuming his position.

But he didn't give her a chance to see him, or to reach out and touch the erection that was begging to be freed from his boxers. He immediately leaned back down to kiss her hungrily, and then he was kissing one breast and sucking on her nipple, causing her to squirm beneath him once more. He switched to the other breast, which was just as sensitive. She could feel the heat rising between her legs and her desire pooling and sticking to the cotton of her panties.

Daryl kissed his way back up to the spot right under her ear while simultaneously slipping a hand down, stopping and letting his fingers rest on the skin above her panties. She pushed her hips upward into his open palm.

He whispered into her ear, his voice low and full of need, "You… want me to…?"

Beth squeezed her eyes shut and pushed up against his hand again, then turned her head to face him and whispered back, " _Please_ …" Then she captured his lips in a greedy kiss.

This time, Daryl didn't hesitate as he slipped his hand beneath her panties. His fingers traced tiny shapes through her soft curls before finding their way to the aching, swollen mound at the crest of her damp lips.

He moaned against her mouth and pressed one finger against her clit, and she shuddered at his touch. She could feel his erection poking into her thigh again, and he absent-mindedly pushed it softly against her for the friction. Then he was moving his finger in slow circles, gradually gaining speed before pressing a second finger against her clit. She bucked her hips upwards and into his hand.

He took this as a cue and slid his fingers farther downward, slipping between the moist folds and curls until he had two fingertips gently teasing her entrance. His fingers were slick with her juices now, and he made sure not to neglect her still-throbbing clit by maintaining a steady massaging with his thumb. Meanwhile, he was sucking lightly on the thin, tender skin of her neck, and Beth's fingers were digging into the sheets beneath her as she fought not to writhe and squirm.

"God, yer so _wet_ ," Daryl growled into her ear, and she thrust upward into his hand again. With the same motion, he slipped his fingers seamlessly inside her, and a tiny gasp escaped from her parted lips.

One second, he'd slipped two fingers inside her and she was feeling a sensation that she'd nearly forgotten existed, surging through her with a pulsing life of its own. The next second, he was massaging her clit and wiggling his fingers around inside her until the combination of sensations was the _only_ thing her brain could focus on. It only took him about thirty seconds to make himself at home and find his way around, because once he bent his fingers at a certain angle and nibbled lightly on her earlobe, Beth was opening her mouth and letting out a loud, uninhibited moan.

She could hear the faintest sounds of a chuckle coming from Daryl's throat, but she was far from caring. She thrust into his hand, bucking her hips upward and against his fingers, begging for more as he relentlessly pressed into a spot that made her gasp for breath.

"Shh, whole damn buildin'll hear ya," he whispered against her neck, but his thumb was still pressing against her clit rhythmically.

"Oh, _god_ , I don't – _give_ a-a _fuck_ ," Beth gasped, and she swore she was seeing stars in the black of her eyelids.

Daryl chuckled quietly again, then kissed his way back to her lips, covering her mouth with his own as she kissed him insatiably.

He pulled away shortly, and she lifted her eyelids just a bit to look up at him as he hovered over her. He was staring down at her with hooded eyes, biting his lip.

"You like that?" He breathed, his eyes darting from Beth's lips to her eyes and back.

She nodded and shut her eyes again, groaning softly as she accommodated his flexing fingers inside her.

When his fingers were dripping wet up to the knuckles, he slipped a third inside her. She gasped again, and he quickly kissed her to swallow the sound.

A giant ball of tension and primal need was growing inside her. She writhed against his touch, craving more, more, _more_.

She bucked into his hand and bit down on his lower lip, causing him to groan deeply. She pulled her lips away and gasped out, "Oh, Daryl – "

Then she let go of her tight grasp on the sheets and reached out to wrap a hand around his protruding erection. He shuddered at her touch and pulled away slightly.

"Hunh-uh," he growled against her lips before carefully slipping his fingers out of her and pulling his hand from her panties to grab the hand that was on his bulge. "Not yet."

She moaned in need, but he was kissing her again to silence her before reaching down and slipping off her panties in one swift motion. He tossed them to the floor and positioned himself between her legs, his knees resting between Beth and the edge of the bed. Then he quickly started trailing light kisses down her neck, her chest, and her tummy, before finally reaching the wet warmth between her thighs. This time, she moaned in satisfaction.

Electricity ran up and down her limbs as Daryl groped her breasts with his hands while he planted soft kisses around her clit. Then he flicked his tongue out and teased the swollen, pink nub, and Beth moaned loudly again. He groaned in return against her wet lips and wrapped his mouth around her clit, sucking gently. She gasped and bit down on her lower lip, fingers digging into the sheets again. Her thighs tensed on either side of Daryl's head, and she didn't even notice his shaggy hair tickling the tender skin there. She could feel his facial hair poking into the sensitive skin around her lips and entrance, but it only sent more goosebumps traveling down her legs.

"Oh – oh, my god," Beth groaned out, her throat and mouth dry as her chest heaved with gasps, and all her muscles clenched and relaxed, over and over.

She could feel Daryl smiling against her skin as he nuzzled his nose against her soft, blonde curls and let his tongue explore her folds. She instinctually thrust herself up into him, and his hands moved to her hips to hold her steady. Then his tongue was finding its way to her entrance, where it traced around and around and teased her, licking up the wetness that kept forming.

His fingers dug into the skin of her hips as he flicked the tip of his tongue inside her, causing her to squirm and gasp loudly. Then he slowly licked his way back up to her clit, taking it between his lips again and sucking gently. Beth didn't even realize that one of his hands had left her hips until it was tickling her inner thigh, and then he was slipping a finger inside her soaking wet cunt while his teeth nibbled lightly on her clit.

She moaned as he slid his finger all the way in and began twirling his tongue around her clit, and then he was wriggling it around inside her and finding the spot that had made her squirm before. It didn't take him long, and then she was moaning so loudly again that the sound was echoing off the walls of the small bedroom.

But Daryl either didn't care or didn't want to break away long enough to quiet her, because he groaned against her pussy and slipped another finger inside, flattening his tongue against her clit and then sucking on it harder while she bucked up against his face. By this point, Beth had forgotten that any other part of her body existed besides the parts being touched by Daryl right now.

Ecstasy surged through her and she felt her climax building – higher, higher, _higher_. Every time Daryl wiggled his fingers inside her and pressed against _that_ one spot, while at the same time, his teeth nibbled on her clit right before his lips wrapped around it and gave it a hard suck, she could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge. Like something was being inflated inside her and if it didn't stop in the next few seconds, there would be no way to keep it from bursting.

"Oh – _yeah_ , yes… _yes_ ," she cried out desperately, breath catching in her throat and eyes squeezed tightly shut. Daryl seemed to be watching her carefully because whatever had made _that_ sound, he kept doing, and he didn't slow down.

Within seconds, the pressure had reached its boiling point, and Beth was frozen mid-gasp as Daryl's tongue lapped across her clit once more and she finally tumbled over the edge. It felt like a dam had burst inside her and for a few blissful seconds, her mind went completely blank, and the stars behind her eyelids were back for a grand finale.

Her hips were still pushed up against Daryl's face, and his tongue and fingers didn't stop their motions, even though he was groaning with insufferable need against her clit. Or was that a groan of satisfaction at seeing, feeling, and hearing her pleasure?

The aftershocks of the orgasm pulsated through Beth for several seconds, and when her muscles began to relax, Daryl slowly pulled his fingers out and gave her clit and lips a parting graze with his tongue. Beth opened her eyes and looked down, unsure of what to expect. She almost felt disoriented from the intoxication of her climax, and she blinked a few times to clear her vision.

Her body was still desperate for _more_ – for what she _really_ wanted to feel. She wanted to say, " _please_ ," but before she could form the word, Daryl was sitting up on his knees between her legs and grabbing her thighs purposefully. She could tell he wanted it just as badly as she did by now.

She looked down and realized he'd taken off his boxers when she wasn't looking, and she tried to see what he'd been hiding, but the nightlight wasn't bright enough in the bedroom and he had leaned forward too quickly. But she was still dripping wet between her legs, and when he parted them enough for him to slip between, she felt the tip of his hard cock graze her lips.

She moaned and reached up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down to kiss her. She kissed him hungrily and he groaned against her mouth, and she felt his cock twitch against her. She could taste herself in his mouth and on his lips, and his mustache was still wet. She reached her other hand around and placed it in the middle of his back, and for a second, she thought her fingers had grazed over the thick, telling lines of scars. But she quickly put it out of her mind and dug her nails into his skin, desperately pulling him in closer to her.

Daryl obliged and positioned his throbbing cock right at her entrance, the tip teasing her swollen, dripping hole. But before Beth could urge him any more forward or thrust up against him, he briefly broke their kiss.

"Is this – you want this?" He whispered breathlessly, and she opened her eyes to find his searching her face.

She quickly nodded.

"…You sure?" He asked, studying her.

" _Very_ sure," Beth whispered, then leaned up to capture his lips in another kiss.

Daryl seemed satisfied with this answer and kissed her back hungrily, and the next thing Beth felt was his rock-hard, throbbing cock slowly and carefully sliding inside her.

She gasped in surprise and sucked at his lower lip, her fingernails digging into his back. But she didn't wince away, and she was more than lubricated enough for him to easily slip inside. But then she realized that he was only halfway in, and he was hesitating to gauge her reaction. She hadn't noticed how tense her muscles had become, so she consciously relaxed and loosened her death-grip on Daryl's back. He flicked his tongue out against her lips, then gave a slight thrust and shoved the rest of his thick length inside her, stretching her walls and sending all new waves of pleasure coursing through her body. He was bigger than she'd expected, but also bigger than she'd ever experienced. Her kisses grew more desperate and breathless, and finally, he was completely submerged inside her.

Daryl groaned in ecstasy and paused for a second, just barely pulling his lips away to take a deep, shuddering breath before pulling his throbbing, twitching cock out, and then he was sliding it back in, and Beth was moaning against his lips. He slid outward again, and this time, he thrust into her dripping, wet cunt with more force, and Beth's breath was catching in her throat again and her fingers were desperately digging into the skin of his back.

"'S that… okay?" He breathed out, and Beth nodded wordlessly, her lips still parted.

She closed her eyes and bucked her hips up into him, and he followed her motions with a more intending thrust, a deep groan coming from the back of his throat. He began to thrust in and out of her in a rhythmic motion, but he would pause every couple of seconds and take shaky breaths. Beth could feel his cock somehow getting harder inside her, and the head was pulsating and twitching and she could tell it was throbbing and ready to burst.

"Fuck – I think… I'm gonna…" He mumbled, voice shaky, and Beth could see it in his face before he even said it.

She bucked up against him again and he groaned loudly, pulling his cock back and thrusting into her again, gritting his teeth.

"Come for me," she whispered, then pressed her lips roughly against his and kissed him greedily.

She felt a shudder run through his body and then he was shoving his cock as deep inside her as he could. He seemed to let loose and began thrusting in and out of her wet pussy faster and faster, having no choice but to break away from their kiss to gasp for air as sweat formed on his forehead. Beth wrapped her legs tighter around his thighs and moaned in pleasure, staring up at him and watching his face scrunch for only a few seconds before it completely relaxed.

He didn't try to pull away or slow down, so when she felt his cock pulsing and about to burst inside her, she pulled him in even closer with her legs, and moaned his name loudly.

"Oh – _Daryl_ …!"

That seemed to be the last tiny push he needed – or maybe it was just the cherry on top, but his eyes shut tightly and he gave one last, heaving thrust, and a breathless " _fu-u-u-uck!_ " And then Beth could feel him exploding inside her, and she could feel the orgasm wracking through his body against her. It almost felt as good as having her own orgasm, and the sensation of his cock finally erupting inside her was almost enough to send her into another climax.

For a moment, they lay motionless. Beth's muscles had tensed around Daryl, but now they were relaxing, and she could feel his entire body doing the same as he gasped for breath. His hair was damp with sweat and when he finally opened his eyes and looked at her, she saw how flushed his face was, even in the dim lighting. She thought she must've looked about the same, though.

"Shit," he muttered, still breathing heavier than usual. He remained hovering above her, resting on his elbow. He gave her a worried look and said, "I dunno why – I shoulda pulled out, I didn't – "

"Don't worry about it," Beth assured him quietly, finding her mouth to be dry. She licked her lips. "I'm – on birth control. It's fine."

Daryl's face relaxed again and he looked relieved. He nodded. "Oh – okay. Good."

He glanced at her lips but didn't kiss her, even though she wanted him to. Instead, he slowly and carefully pulled his cock out from between her legs, then began standing up on shaky legs. She watched him search around in the dark for his boxers, and he grabbed her panties from the floor, as well, and handed them to her.

When they'd slipped their underwear back on, Daryl flopped back down on the bed and heaved a tired, relieved sigh. Beth scooted up to lie next to him, curling in close against his side.

She leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips, then pulled back and watched his face as he looked at her with surprised and tired eyes. She could see his mind working tirelessly behind them. She wanted to ask what he was thinking about, but for now, she was just glad he'd kissed her back, and that he wasn't pulling away as she wrapped an arm around his middle and rested her head on his chest.

"Sorry that was so… _quick_ ," he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

She smiled and gave a light chuckle. "I'll tell ya again – don't worry about it. I got mine."

He made a sound of disagreement in his throat, then said quietly, "Still. 'S just… been a while. And… well, you felt… _really_ fuckin' good. I couldn't really… hold back…"

Beth felt herself blushing but it didn't matter because he couldn't see her face. She smiled anyway. "I know."

They laid together in silence for several minutes, relaxing while Beth found herself growing sleepier and sleepier. Daryl's heartbeat was a steady rhythm in one ear and his chest rose and fell with each breath he took.

"You… sleepin' in here?" He whispered, so quietly that she thought he must've assumed she was already asleep.

She nodded against his chest and asked sleepily, "'S that… okay…?"

Daryl wrapped his arm around Beth and pulled her in even closer to his side, but she barely noticed as sleep began to quickly overtake her.

Right before she drifted off, she faintly heard his voice answering her, "…Was… kinda hopin' ya would…"

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** So yeah, I felt it was time. I have a lot of reasons and a lot of plans for them having sex this soon. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! I have the next chapter written and will post in a week, but I really want to know what you thought of this - especially since it's the first real sex scene...


	24. rosie, how can i persuade?

_**rosie, how can i persuade?**_

… _Beth was eleven, and she always played all over the farm. Momma always told her to stay within sight, but sometimes Momma would go inside to start dinner or Daddy would call her to the barn, and then Beth could wander off a little farther and play by the stables or even out by the other barns._

 _It always smelled like poop. And she was used to the smell of poop – manure was a part of life when you lived on a farm. She'd cleaned up after the horses and she'd helped out in some of the fields. Poop was nothing new to Beth Greene._

 _But this smell was stronger – a lot stronger than anywhere else on the farm. She didn't know why it was so strong all of a sudden. Or had she just never noticed?_

 _As she wandered closer to one of the outer barns, the smell overtook her. She was covering her nose but she wasn't stopping. She never got to play out here anymore. She wanted to know what the big fuss was about._

 _And then she could hear Maggie's voice, and she stopped in her tracks._

" _Beth!"_

 _She turned around and saw her big sister jogging toward her. She was wearing dirty farming clothes and an old baseball cap, and the closer she got to Beth, the angrier she looked._

" _What're you_ _ **doin'**_ _out here?! Where's Mom?" Maggie scolded when she reached Beth._

 _Beth didn't even try to argue when her big sister grabbed her by the arm and hauled her back to the house, where her Momma was standing on the porch with a very disappointed look on her face._

… _Beth was fourteen, and she loved riding horses. Her daddy owned several, but she had a few particular favorites. And for her birthday, he'd officially given her one of her own. She was a black-and-white Appaloosa, only a few years old and as sweet as could be, and she got a stall in the stable right next to all of Daddy's most beloved horses._

 _When her daddy had handed her the reins, he'd said, "Now, Bethy, this horse here is all yours. She's just as smart, tough, loving, and kind as you are – that's why I picked her for ya. But she's not just a horse. She's a responsibility, and she's family. If you take care of her and love her and treat her right, she'll love you right back, and she'll know that you're her family. But she's going to be_ _ **your**_ _responsibility. Do you understand?"_

 _Beth had nodded, a grin so wide on her face that it made her cheeks hurt._

 _She didn't mind scooping up Princess's poop, or brushing her mane (actually, that was her favorite part). She didn't even mind helping her daddy change Princess's shoes, or getting up extra early every day before school to make sure Princess was fed. It was all worth it when they were riding together._

 _Beth loved riding her horse more than anything. It only took a couple of weeks before they were so in sync, Princess could almost sense Beth's commands before she'd made them. They rode all around the farm. But not too far._

 _Until Beth went farther one day. She didn't know why – she was feeling a little rebellious after an argument with her momma that morning, and when Princess started trotting off so far that the smell of sulfur was filling Beth's nostrils, she didn't stop her._

 _Maggie didn't come around this time. Momma was in the house, assured that she didn't have to watch Beth as closely these days. And as Princess's hooves trotted along the ground and took Beth so close to the barn that her nose was burning from the smell, she realized she was close enough to hear the door opening._

 _Beth gave a stern tug on the reins and the horse halted with a slight toss of her head. She wanted to run, or trot farther out, and Beth didn't blame her. Especially when she saw her Daddy emerging from the barn._

 _He was dressed in something she'd only caught a glance of once or twice before – during moments when she was sneaking around somewhere she wasn't supposed to be. It was all white and looked like it was made of plastic. There was a cap covering her daddy's head and hair, and he pulled off what looked like a surgeon's mask that had been covering his mouth and nose. Then he slid the thick, plastic safety glasses off his eyes._

" _Bethany, just_ _ **what**_ _exactly do you think you're doin' out here?!" Her daddy's voice was angry and growing angrier by the second, and he only used her full name when she was in deep trouble._

 _Beth didn't get to take Princess out for a month after that. She never went out farther than the stables again, not even when Momma and Daddy weren't looking._

… _Beth was standing on the Greene Farm. She didn't know how. Her long, blonde hair was gone. She was wearing the boots she'd bought in Washington, D.C. The necklace with her momma's ring was hanging from her neck. She wasn't young and naïve, she wasn't the Beth that had lived on the farm._

 _Yet here she was. On the farm._

 _The smell of sulfur filled her nose. It burned her eyes until they started watering._

 _Then she rubbed her eyes because they were stinging, and when she opened them, the farm was on fire._

 _Literally._

 _Every barn, every stable, every shed and shack. The farmhouse was the brightest of them all as both stories slowly crumbled to ash beneath a red blaze. Black smoke billowed from the windows and clouded the sky, and the smell of sulfur was only getting more intense._

 _Beth thought she might suffocate on her own breath._

 _But then she felt someone grab her hand, and she looked over, blinking away tears and smoke. She could feel fresh air in her lungs even though she could only see smoke._

 _It was Daryl. He held her small hand in his large palm, giving her a knowing smile. She almost didn't recognize him because of how calm and collected he was._

 _She had questions, but her mouth wouldn't work. She didn't know why._

 _Then she turned her head and looked back at the burning farmhouse, and she didn't blink or turn away as the second story began to collapse in, and the sound of crackling flames and crumbling wood echoed out into the night._

 _The blaze rose and rose, reaching higher and higher for the sky until there was nothing but smoke and fire. Beth suddenly couldn't remember if there'd ever actually been a sky._

 _And when she turned back to glance at Daryl, whose hand was warm around hers, she found him to still be smiling while he watched everything burn to ashes. Then he turned his head and looked at her._

" _C'mon," he said, but his voice was loud and clear to her, even amongst all the noise._

 _He motioned for her to follow him and turned his back toward her, pulling her along with him as they began walking through the thick, black smoke._

 _Beth didn't ask where they were going. She didn't let go of his hand either._

 _All she could see through the endless clouds of smoke was the faint sight of the back of his head, his shaggy, dark hair – and the glowing, white angel wings embroidered on the back of his black vest._

* * *

Beth slowly drifted into consciousness, though for a few seconds, she still felt like it was difficult to breathe – as if there'd actually been smoke in her lungs. But it quickly subsided and then she could feel nothing except nausea.

She writhed in the bed, eyes still closed as her stomach churned painfully and bile rose in the back of her throat. When she opened her eyes, she was faced with the recollection of the night before. Not only did the sheets smell like Daryl, but she remembered that it was also his bed. And when she lifted her head and glanced around, she saw that he wasn't there. And she was still sleeping in nothing but her panties.

 _He_ _ **was**_ _here, right?_ She thought to herself, still foggy from sleep and unsure of what had been a dream and what had been reality.

Before she could contemplate any farther, though, she felt her mouth watering and quickly jumped out of bed to rush out of the bedroom – _Daryl's_ bedroom – and into the bathroom. She reached the toilet and leaned down on her knees to bend over the toilet and retch.

After several minutes of heaving and being forced to look at the remnants of her sandwich from the night before, Beth cleaned up and washed her face, then vigorously brushed her teeth. She went to the kitchen and got a bottle of water, then headed straight back to Daryl's bedroom and put on the clothes that she'd stripped off the night before.

But she wasn't returning to bed. She glanced around the bedroom for any signs of Daryl or where he'd gone. His phone was gone, as were his boots – but not his work boots, just his everyday boots. The clock read 10:46 and Beth had to do a double-take when she realized the framed photo on his bedside table was turned over.

She wondered whether it had been accidentally knocked over or purposefully placed face-down.

Then she spotted something out-of-place amongst the black sheets and pillows on the bed. Beth crawled up onto the bed and got closer to find that it was a piece of paper, which she pulled from between a pillow and a corner of the sheet. It looked like it had been left on the pillow, but Beth had writhed around in her sleep and brushed it aside amongst the bedding, so she hadn't seen it at first glance.

It was a paper from the pad on the bar in the kitchen, and Beth immediately recognized Daryl's handwriting. It read:

 _Rosie,  
You were tossing and turning a lot so I didn't want to wake you. Took the kid for a father-son day. Museums n parks n shit. Promised him, couldn't back out. Won't be back till bed time.  
See you then.  
-D_

At first, she was a little hurt that he didn't wake her. But then she thought about it and understood that it was probably for the better.

She wasn't entirely sure she was ready to face him in the light again, anyway. The dark bedroom had made her feel a sort of confidence that she definitely wasn't feeling this morning.

Beth folded the note up and tucked it into the pocket of her pants. Then she took her bottle of water and went to her own bedroom, where she plopped down in her cold, undisturbed bed and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. Her clothes and hair still smelled like Daryl and his bed.

There was a text from Clementine asking if Beth and Daryl had gotten home okay, as well as a text from Tara saying thanks for coming and sorry for passing out early. There was also a text from Rosita with more thanks and another apology for her "shitty taste in guys."

Beth smiled to herself and replied to Clem to assure they'd made it home perfectly fine, then she thanked Tara for having them and told her she'd missed a great punch. And finally, she replied to Rosita to assure her that it wasn't her fault at all, and also to express how badly she felt that Rosita's birthday had been a little screwed up – but that Beth had had a blast regardless.

As was routine, Beth moved on to checking the news sites and scrolling through pages of headlines. She scrolled and skimmed and double-checked. But it was Sunday, and there were other things the news felt like reporting on. When it came to the national outlets, it was all politics, and Beth felt very confident that her story wouldn't pop up today. Or at least, not before dinner.

Her stomach was still iffy and she remained in bed for another fifteen minutes. Her hand slipped beneath the pillow and wrapped around the pocket watch, holding it until it was as warm as her palm. The rhythmic ticking eased her, and she had the urge to look at the photo in her bag. But for the moment, she was feeling too lazy to get up and dig it out.

She also knew it wouldn't make her feel any better – only worse. Somehow, seeing the farm burning down in her dream had felt better than seeing a photo of it from years ago, or photos on the internet of its current state.

When she finally admitted that she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, she gave in and got up, heading to the kitchen. She made a piece of toast and chose to skip the coffee. Then she took her toast and water to the couch, where she plopped down and turned on the TV.

Her mind kept wandering to images from the night before. But every time it did, Beth felt a cold tingle in the pit of her stomach, and then she would have to try to think about something else.

She got up and opened the window, which Daryl had closed while Beth was sleeping. The sun was out and there were still some clouds in the sky, but the air was continuing to get noticeably chillier during the day, and there were still several patches of fog lingering about the streets. Nonetheless, she breathed in the fresh air and hoped it would help to clear her head while she finished eating.

The toast went down and seemed to be settling fine. Beth relaxed into the cushions of the couch as she surfed through the channels, and then she stopped when a church service appeared on the screen. Her finger hovered over the button on the remote, but she was fixated on the screen as an older man stood at a podium and spoke to a large church filled with all kinds of different people. There were crosses and tapestries all around the large room, and his voice reminded her of her daddy's.

After a few minutes, she set the remote aside and curled up, clutching a pillow against her chest with one hand while the other fidgeted with the cross around her neck. Her eyes were focused on the screen of the TV, and for the first time all morning, she wasn't thinking about Daryl or the news at all. Instead, she was remembering Sunday mornings spent in church, watching her daddy preach and holding her momma's hand.

Before long, the nausea and cold tingles were completely out of her mind. But now, she couldn't shake the image of her daddy in handcuffs.

Beth watched the televised church service for well over an hour before she was disturbed. There was a knock at the door, and at first, she expected Daryl to walk in. But then another knock came and she got up to cross the living room and peer through the peephole.

It was Carol. Beth unlocked and opened the door without giving a second thought to her current appearance – which was probably exhausted and sick. And understandably, Carol's face grew a bit concerned when she looked Beth up and down. But she smiled nonetheless, and Beth saw the covered plate she was holding in her hands.

"Oh – mornin'," Beth greeted, her voice a bit raspy.

"Afternoon," Carol smiled. "You feeling okay?"

Beth nodded and gave the older woman a reassuring smile. "Yeah, jus' tired."

"Oh, long night?" Carol asked. "I heard the party got pretty… _interesting_."

 _I wonder who told her first – Daryl, Tara, or Clem,_ Beth thought.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Beth muttered, her smile fading.

Carol shrugged. "It happens. I'm just glad he didn't cause any serious damage. I didn't hear, ya know – the whole thing. But if you wanna talk – "

Beth shook her head quickly, then put on a polite smile. "Oh – no, that's okay. It wasn't a big deal, really. I'm fine and everybody's okay… Thanks, though. I appreciate it…"

 _I still can't figure out if she's trying to find out more about me or just trying to practice her counseling,_ Beth thought.

Carol nodded and glanced away for a second, then held out the plate. "Well, I know Daryl and Malachi are gone for the day, and I don't know if you're hungover, but even if you aren't, I think these will help your stomach. And they taste pretty darn good – if I do say so myself... And I do."

Beth raised her eyebrows and took the plate carefully, lifting a bit of the foil to peer underneath and take a whiff of the familiar smell. "Oh, are these – "

"Gingersnaps," Carol smiled proudly. "My great-grandmother's secret recipe. The women in my family have been eatin' 'em for generations."

"Wow, thank you," Beth smiled, meeting Carol's eyes again and finding the older woman to be studying her.

"You sure you're feeling okay?" Carol asked, furrowing her brow.

Beth gave her a quizzical look. "Yeah, I didn't even drink last night. Just… didn't sleep very well."

Carol nodded slowly but still appeared to be studying Beth's face. "Alright… well, I'm not totally sure why, but Daryl texted me earlier and asked me to check on you this afternoon. So, I thought… I dunno. Maybe somethin' happened."

Beth furrowed her brow and bit down on her bottom lip thoughtfully for just a second, then said, "Huh. Not sure why he didn't just text me an' ask…"

"You – been talkin' about leaving or something?" Carol asked, and at first, Beth was confused how that had anything to do with the subject at hand. But then it clicked in her head and she understood what Carol was thinking.

She was also beginning to understand what might've been going on in Daryl's head. But would he actually think she'd just pick up and leave while he was gone, without a word? It still didn't explain to her why he wouldn't just text her himself, or give her a thirty-second phone call, for Christ's sake.

Beth shook her head. "No, actually… well, I kinda talked about stayin' fer… a few months. For now, at least."

Her conversation with Daryl at the dinner table was replaying in her mind, and she was reanalyzing his facial expressions and trying to put the pieces together.

"That's good," Carol said, and she smiled encouragingly. "That's _really_ good. I think that'll be – a great thing for you. And I think it'll be helpful for Daryl, too."

Beth gave a tight-lipped smile but she was low-key analyzing Carol and trying to figure out what intentions were hidden behind her words.

When neither of them had said anything for a few seconds, Carol let out a soft sigh and said, "Well, if you're sure you're okay, I'll leave you be. Get some rest. Oh – and you're comin' to class next week, right?"

Without hesitation, Beth nodded. "Yeah, why?"

Carol smiled a bit and Beth noticed her cheeks growing pink. "Well, I'm bringin' a friend next week. Finally convinced him to give it a try, him and his daughter. She's around Sophia's age. I wanted you guys t'meet him."

Beth raised her eyebrows, her interest suddenly piqued as she recalled the man Clem had been telling her about. She wondered if this "friend" was one in the same.

"Oh, really?" She asked. "How d'you know him?"

She really wanted to ask, _Is he a cop? Some sort of law enforcement or federal agent, maybe?_

Carol's smile became more sheepish and she shrugged, explaining briefly, "Uh – Sophia's therapist. He takes his daughter to the same one. We met in the office. I think he's… ah, ya know, I don't know him well enough to say, but I get the feeling he's kinda… like us."

Beth's confusion showed on her face. "Us?"

Carol nodded, "You, Daryl, me… You know, how we're… _similar_. Lonely, but won't admit it."

Beth's nails scratched at the edge of the foil that covered the plate in her hands. "Oh… yeah, I s'pose."

 _Didn't realize we were just saying it out loud like that,_ she thought, with a hint of resentment.

Carol shrugged again and Beth realized she looked almost giddy while talking about this new friend.

"What's his name?" Beth asked, trying to divert the conversation.

"Tobin," Carol smiled. "Don't worry, you guys will like him. He's… nice. Really nice."

Beth smirked and watched Carol chuckle nervously before she glanced back at her apartment door.

"Well, I'd better get back before Sophia cleans off the other batch I made," she said, gesturing to the plate in Beth's hands. "If you need anything while Daryl's gone, just gimme a holler, alright?"

Beth nodded. "Will do. Thank you."

When she returned to the couch with her second gingersnap in hand, Beth picked up her phone and searched it for any signs of another text from Daryl. But there weren't any, and even though her finger was hovering over the New Message button, she resisted and chose not to bother him.

Besides, if he'd wanted to talk to her, he wouldn't have left a brief note to tell her he'd be gone all day. _See you then_ , he'd said.

* * *

When the church services on TV had ended and Beth had finished about five gingersnaps, she got up and made herself some tea just for the sake of the caffeine. Then she headed to the bathroom and ran a hot, bubbly bath. Her stomach was feeling exceptionally better and she was feeling particularly grateful for Carol's thoughtfulness.

Beth stripped off her clothes and pressed her nose to the skin of her shoulder, breathing in the lingering remnants of Daryl's scent one last time. Then she carefully stepped into the bath and submerged herself in soapy water. She sighed deeply in relief, her muscles relaxing against the hot water. Before long, the entire bathroom smelled like fruity bubble bath and Beth could no longer smell anything that reminded her of the night before. Her hair lay wet and limp, the curls washed out completely.

She didn't stay in the bath nearly as long as she normally did. Every time her body would relax and her mind would start to wander, it would always go right back to the night before. Those cold chills tingled in her gut again, and she splashed more water onto her face. But then she gave up and pulled the drain, stepping out and focusing on drying herself and brushing the tangles out of her hair.

After slipping on some clean clothes, she grabbed her mug of tea and went back to the living room. She turned off the TV and sat down in front of the bookcase, looking over the titles for the hundredth time. The distant sounds of the city drifted in through the open window and played like background noise. Beth reached out and grabbed the old, tattered Bible that sat tucked away on the bottom shelf.

She tucked the thick book under her arm and headed to her bedroom, where she sat her tea down on the bedside table. Then she got comfortable on the bed and opened up the old Bible, blowing away small bits of dust. She glanced inside the cover and noticed an old, faded inscription in cursive handwriting. It read: " _For Lucy. Love, Grandma._ " She thought of the blonde woman holding baby Malachi and standing next to Daryl and tried to imagine Daryl addressing her as "Lucy."

Beth gently turned the pages and flipped through to find her favorite verses and stories. The paper was thin and aged, and several pages were creased from being dog-eared. But before long, Beth wasn't thinking about who the Bible had belonged to, nor was she stuck on the images from last night. Instead, she was comforted. And when she heard her daddy's voice in her head as he preached these familiar old words, she felt a swelling of hope in her chest.

The crucifix hanging on the bedroom wall didn't feel quite as haunting right now. Beth glanced over at it, but the hopefulness didn't flee. She returned to the pages of the old book, silently thanking God for how far He'd brought her and how many miracles He'd blessed her with.

At the same time, she felt partially owed credit for doing her own part.

* * *

Beth hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep. She hadn't even intended to let her eyelids stay closed when they'd begun to get heavy. But then she was waking up to a dark and quiet apartment, open Bible resting on her chest. The clock read 7:04.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Beth set the thick book down on the nightstand before reaching over and turning on the lamp. Then she grabbed her phone, checking for notifications but only finding a text from Clementine. She set the phone aside, intending to read the message later, and got out of bed. She knew Daryl and Malachi would be home any minute, and just before drifting off, she'd told herself that she would get up and make dinner in time for the boys' arrival.

The apartment had gotten considerably chillier since the sun had gone down and the evening air was circulating through. Beth switched on the kitchen light before wandering over to the window and closing it a bit, allowing only a small opening for fresh air to enter. She saw the fog had mostly cleared in the streets, but there were still plenty of clouds moving across the dark sky and Beth could smell ocean air drifting in from a few miles away.

She turned on the TV to one of the stations that played music like a radio station. When she settled on an Indie/Alternative station, she went back to the kitchen and began pulling out pots and pans and other various dishes to prepare dinner. The TV was just loud enough to be heard from the kitchen, and she sang along quietly to some of the songs she recognized while walking back and forth between the fridge, cabinets, and counter.

About an hour passed, during which Beth was lost in her own little world while she prepared dinner and sang along to music. She hadn't noticed how much time had gone by until she heard the door unlocking and opening, followed by Malachi's voice.

The apartment was filled with the smell of stir fry by now, and Beth peeked across the bar at the boys with a smile on her face. She felt giddy and she didn't know why. Then Daryl turned and they locked eyes for the first time since it had been just them in the dark bedroom – sans clothes – and she knew exactly why.

"Rosie!" Malachi called out happily, turning around and spotting Beth over the bar. Daryl took his jacket and let him loose to run around and into the kitchen, where he immediately dashed to Beth.

Surprised, Beth turned around to find the toddler colliding with her legs, wrapping his arms around her enthusiastically. "Rosie! I – I went to the um, we went um, we went to – uh, we went – "

"We went ta the park a-a-and the museum, an' another park," Daryl finished for his son, hanging up his jacket and walking over to stand on the threshold of the kitchen. "Which one ya tellin' her about?"

Malachi glanced back at his dad, then looked up at Beth again, and she saw the exhaustion in his small face. But he spoke with excitement regardless. "Um, yeah, we – um, I saw _dinosaurs_! And-and we saw bugs. Oh-oh my, oh gosh, we saw this beetle and…"

Beth couldn't help but grin as she listened to the small boy's long, drawn-out story, nodding along to his enthusiasm and asking him questions about what he saw. Daryl stood back and watched, arms crossed as he leaned against the edge of the bar and smirked at the sight of his son.

"…oh, and um, and the-the swings, um, at the park – "

"Alright, bud, I think it's time fer bed," Daryl announced, bringing the story to an end. "You can tell her more about it tomorrow."

Malachi sighed dramatically, causing Beth to giggle and cover her mouth. She glanced at Daryl to see that he was still smirking.

"You guys don't want dinner?" She asked, gesturing to the stir fry behind her that was nearly finished cooking.

"He had Mickey D's a little bit ago," Daryl answered, patting Malachi on the head. "But yeah – I'll eat. Lemme wash up an' put the kid ta bed."

Beth nodded, then bent down to get a tight neck hug from Malachi and bid him goodnight. She watched him follow his dad down the hallway before turning back to the pan on the stove.

"Hey."

She turned around, surprised to see Daryl peeking around the corner of the hall. She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"Thanks," he said, and she nodded, but gave him a questioning gaze. So he quickly added, "Fer… cookin'."

He disappeared back down the hall before she could open her mouth to ask him if that's _really_ what he meant.

Beth had already set out both plates of food, along with drinks, on the table by the time Daryl joined her. He had changed into pajama pants and a sleeveless shirt, and Beth was already beginning to eat when he sat down across from her. Halfway through cooking, her stomach had randomly started rumbling and she'd quickly become ravenously hungry. She knew it was rude, but she couldn't wait for him before she started digging into her plateful of food.

Daryl sat down in silence and only met Beth's eyes for a second to give her a small smile, then he was staring down at his food and hungrily starting in on it. Beth didn't mind as she shoveled forkful after forkful into her mouth, although she was watching him from her peripherals. She couldn't see his eyes through his shaggy hair, though.

"Sounds like you had an excitin' day," she finally said in between bites, still staring down at her plate.

He grunted in response and she could hear him chewing his food. Then he said, "Yeah, very. Had some time ta think, though. An' the kid got worn out, so he'll sleep good."

Beth wanted to ask what he had to think about, but she wasn't feeling quite that bold tonight. "Oh, yeah…"

She thought about bringing up the night before, but every time the words began to form in her mouth, her stomach would start churning and she'd decide against it. It didn't feel like the right time, but she didn't know how to get back to the level of comfortability they'd reached. The table between them suddenly felt like an impenetrable wall.

The silence was almost worse, though, so she said, "Carol stopped by. Left some cookies – gingersnaps. If you an' Malachi want 'em."

Daryl shrugged, still looking down at his plate. "I'm good. An' Mal's allergic, so don't let him have none. Think she made those fer you."

Beth looked up and stared at Daryl with surprise until he lifted his head to meet her gaze. "Allergic?"

He nodded. "Ginger. Can't have it. That an' most citrus fruits, that we know of. An' shellfish. An' he can't have those fruit snack things 'cause they got some kinda artificial dye that he's allergic to. Ain't just the kinda allergy that gives him the runs neither – it's the kinda shit I gotta have an EpiPen on hand for."

Beth listened with wide eyes. "Wow. I had no idea… Glad you told me now."

"Sorry, didn't think ta mention it," he explained. "Didn't really think ya'd need ta know."

She shrugged. "Yeah, but I cook sometimes, so…"

"Ain't _gotta_ cook fer us," he said. "Me an' the boy, I mean."

Beth furrowed her brow. "I know. I don't do it 'cause I feel like I _gotta_."

She thought she saw a smile tug at the corners of his lips for a second. She looked back down at her plate, taking a small bite and waiting to see if Daryl would speak again, or change the subject.

A knot was building in her stomach, though, and her appetite was disappearing. There was something she'd wanted to ask him all day. She kept reforming the same sentence in her mind for several seconds before she decided to say it aloud.

"So, uh – did you ask Carol to come check on me, or…?"

She stared down at her plate and waited to hear his voice, but when she didn't, she lifted her head slowly and found him watching her thoughtfully, chewing. He finished and swallowed the bite before he answered casually.

"S'pose so."

This wasn't the answer she was expecting. "Why?"

He shrugged and continued scraping up the last of the stir fry onto his fork as he spoke, "Dunno. Jus'… didn't wanna bother ya. But I wanted ta know if you'd still be here when I got back."

She furrowed her brow again and stared at him, but he was focusing on getting the last bits of food into his mouth. "Well… where would I have gone?"

He shrugged again, and she saw his eyes flick up to hers briefly, but he continued chewing slowly and staring at the fork in his hand. Then he took a sip of his drink and muttered, "Couldn't tell ya. Jus' figured it was fifty-fifty whether ya'd leave or stay."

"You think I'd leave? Even after we talked about it… last night?" Beth asked.

Daryl cleared his throat and chewed on the inside of his cheek, still fiddling with the fork in his hand. "Yeah, but then we…"

She raised her eyebrows and watched him hesitate with parted lips, meeting her eyes before he finished quietly, "…ya know."

She swallowed hard and nodded, but didn't know what to say. All those questions she'd had were a distant memory now and she couldn't remember a single one. Daryl wasn't looking away from her this time, and she chewed on her bottom lip, unable to pull her eyes away from his.

Then he was sitting up straight and putting his fork down onto his plate, still staring into her eyes, and leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.

"Look, here's the thing," he said, his tone serious and words hesitant. "I, uh… I don't – we jus' met, an' we're both all different kindsa fucked up. Last night was… I don't do that kinda shit. Not anymore. Not since before Mal's mom. An' I've worked _real_ hard ta come a long way from who I was before her, an' before Mal. And last night… well, I – _fuck_ … I dunno. I jus' – I don't even know yer last _name_. But – what happened… it wasn't no desperation – lonely – _whatever_ thing. I mean… Mal likes ya. I really like ya. But, all day, I jus' thought… well, I expected ta come home an' find ya gone without a word. And I would've understood, and I wouldn't have tried ta look for ya."

When he finally got all his words out, he stared at Beth and she saw the weariness in his eyes. She could see him chewing the inside of his cheek as he searched her face for a response.

It was a lot to comprehend at first. She hadn't even been sure that he would talk to her, but now she could see that he'd been carefully contemplating his words just like she had. But she couldn't figure out how to make the situation easy, even though it seemed like it should be.

Then again, what did she expect? That they would kiss and go to bed together and just start acting like it was all normal? She knew there were still a lot of layers to get through first – and a lot of explaining that they _both_ had to do to themselves.

"Daryl, I'm not… _goin'_ anywhere," Beth started, her voice coming out soft and quiet. "At least not anytime soon… You don't have to explain yourself to me. But if you do, I'm not gonna get scared and run off. And I'm not gonna expect the worst from you… Unless that's what you _want_ me to do."

He narrowed his eyes as she talked, like he was trying to figure her out.

"I'm sorry if I was pushy last night… I dunno what I was thinkin'," she continued. "It just felt right. And I _don't_ regret it. I know we just met less than two weeks ago, but… I dunno. It doesn't seem to _matter_ , honestly. Not after… everythin' else."

Daryl's expression softened and she saw him glancing at her lips before he spoke, his voice coming out as a low grumble, "Yeah, but… ya still got fresh wounds."

Beth didn't break her gaze away from his eyes. "Sounds like you do, too…"

He blinked and looked down at his hands, where he began picking at his fingernails.

Silence hung in the air between them while Beth watched Daryl nervously fidget, and she wished he'd vocalize whatever was floating around in his head.

After a long moment, she said quietly, "It's Wilson."

He lifted his head and stopped picking at his fingernails to look at her. "Huh?"

She stared back. "My last name. It's Wilson."

Daryl still looked confused and said, "Rosie is… yer real name?"

Beth furrowed her brow, sharing his confusion. "Yeah, why wouldn't it be?"

He seemed to accept this and shrugged. "Jus' figured ya gave us all a fake name. 'Cause of yer ex."

She felt her cheeks heating up and shook her head, trying to appear as casual as possible while she blatantly lied. "No. That's it."

"Oh," Daryl said, and he was studying her face again as he mumbled quietly, "Rosie Wilson, huh…"

 _Maybe he actually trusts me,_ Beth thought. _Just sucks I can't trust him with something like my name... Ever. All it would take is one Google search out of curiosity and…_

"What's Rosie short for?" He asked, catching her off-guard.

Beth hesitated, spouting the first name that came to mind – a Shakespeare character she recalled from school. "Rosaline."

Daryl nodded, still studying her. "Good ta know…"

She raised her eyebrows and watched him for a moment, expecting something else – though she wasn't sure exactly what it was or why she expected it.

"You sleep alright?" He asked, sipping his drink.

Beth's stomach fluttered as she was reminded of sleeping in his bed, curled up against his side. "Yeah… did you?"

"Yeah, when ya weren't kickin' me," he said, and smirked. But then his face grew concerned. "You sure yer good? Seemed like… I'ono. Ya always sleep that restlessly?"

"I don't… think so," Beth muttered. "Sorry…"

"Don't worry 'bout it," Daryl shook a strand of hair out of his eyes. "Jus' makin' sure."

Beth was reminded of how miserable she'd been when she'd woken up, and it almost made her nauseous just thinking about it.

After several seconds of silence, Daryl stood up and gathered the dishes, then took them to the kitchen. Beth muttered a "thanks" and sipped her drink, watching him walk away. Once she heard the sink running and the sounds of dishes clinking together, she stood up and turned off the TV. Then she went to the kitchen to join him, wordlessly gathering dirty dishes and wrapping up leftovers.

After a few minutes of working together in silence, the kitchen was clean and Beth and Daryl realized there was nothing else left to be done.

They stopped and turned to each other, and Beth quickly realized the tension that had wedged itself between them was back. She didn't even know what to say to him right now.

"Well, gotta get t'bed. Work in the mornin'," Daryl mumbled before the silence went on for too long, and turned to leave the kitchen.

"Okay. Goodnight," Beth said quietly, and she headed for her bedroom just to escape the palpable tension of the kitchen.

But Daryl's voice stopped her in the doorway, and she turned around to find him standing in the hall and looking at her. Apparently, he felt the need to explain himself and had turned back to do so.

He started, "Um – kid's sleepin' in there with me, otherwise…"

Beth shook her head, understanding what he was referring to without having to speak it aloud. She was a bit surprised that he'd felt he needed to explain himself at all. She definitely hadn't expected it. "No, I know. I didn't – ya know... It's not like… _that_ …"

Daryl's face seemed to fall and he pursed his lips. He looked like he was about to say something but had stopped himself.

Beth watched him expectantly but he looked away from her eyes and down at the floor momentarily. Then he lifted his head and glanced behind her, and his eyes seemed to catch something that made his brow furrow. He stepped forward, approaching the doorway, but he was looking over her head and into her bedroom.

"Is that – _yer_ Bible?" He asked, pointing behind her.

She glanced back and saw the Bible she'd taken from his bookcase sitting on her nightstand. She looked up at him, suddenly very conscious of his close proximity. "Oh – no, it's yours. I borrowed it from the bookcase earlier. Sorry, I hope that's um, okay."

Beth was expecting a dismissive hand wave and a grumbled "jus' put it back when yer done." But instead, Daryl's face changed almost completely before her eyes, and she was left feeling stunned from his sudden mood swing.

"The fuck – you serious? Why is it _in_ here?!" Daryl asked, his face growing stoic with anger and his voice rising.

The change in his tone made her feel immediately guilty for something she hadn't even known she'd done.

"What – Daryl, are _you_ serious…?" Beth asked, perplexed.

She stared in shock as Daryl stepped past her and into the bedroom, taking long, swift strides to the nightstand and snatching up the old Bible angrily. He turned around, clutching it in his hand, and Beth saw something in his eyes that she couldn't recall seeing before.

"Don't touch shit that ain't _yours_ , got it?" He said, and Beth felt like she was being scolded. "What makes you think ya had any right ta even pull it off the _shelf_?!"

Beth stammered out, "Daryl, I-I'm _sorry_ , I didn't – "

"You might live here, but that don't mean some things ain't off-limits – like my kid's dead mother's _shit_."

Beth's mouth hung open. She was speechless, watching with wide eyes as Daryl stomped out of the bedroom and disappeared down the hall. Then she heard the bedroom door clicking shut angrily, just short of being slammed.

And she knew that if it weren't for Malachi, it would've been slammed very loudly.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks to my coworker, Don, for answering my crazy questions about what meth smells like and how people cover the smell lmao.  
Sorry if this chapter disappointed you, but I had to do it. Things get way more exciting next chapter... promise :) Feel free to let me know what you really think/feel in a review or PM!


	25. i'm always fighting the gravity

_**i'm always fighting the gravity**_

 _Motherfucker,_ Beth thought, her confusion turning to anger. _Talk about all kinds of fucked up. Carol's right – you need some serious counseling, Daryl Dixon._

But a voice in the back of her head quickly reminded her, _You're really one to talk, "Rosie Wilson." It's not like he doesn't have a justifiable reason to be pissed when you get down to it..._

She shut the bedroom door tightly and plopped down on the bed, grabbing her phone. She saw Clem's text from earlier and briefly contemplated texting her back and venting about Daryl. But that idea was thrown out as soon as it came. She wanted to keep the building guilt at bay, but it was forcibly pushing its way into her head and she wasn't sure what method to take in order to cope. But she knew that gossiping wasn't the right one.

She checked the news sites just for the sake of worrying about something else – the _real_ problems she had in her life. As she scrolled through the various headlines and searched for any news about her family or her wanted status, her anger and frustration with Daryl subsided and she was reminded of the gravity of her situation. Beth silently scolded herself for allowing things to get this far with Daryl, and letting herself get wrapped up in them so wildly.

Daryl was convinced that the previous night hadn't been an act of desperation or loneliness on his part… but could she say the same? At the time, "we'll figure it out later" had been more than enough to suffice for both of them. But things often changed drastically in the light of day. The darkness of the bedroom with only slivers of light coming from the nightlight had made everything seem so much more simple.

The apartment felt unsettlingly silent. Beth scrolled through every news site she could find for over an hour before she got sick of staring at a screen and set her phone aside. An anxious ball of stress had formed in her stomach and she curled up beneath the comforter in the dark bedroom, shutting her eyes. As much as she tried not to, she was imagining Daryl's warm body beside her, and his arm around her. She yearned to drift off into unconsciousness as effortlessly as she had the night before.

The minutes ticked by into hours, and Beth lay awake beneath the comforter, drifting off for a few minutes at a time but unable to grasp any actual sleep. Her body felt exhausted for no particular reason and a slight pang that resembled menstrual cramps came and went. She assured herself it was another sign that her period was on its way, and that it would be more than making up for its late arrival.

It was nearly dawn by the time Beth managed to drift off and stay asleep. Once she did, though, she went into a deep sleep and nothing disturbed her, not even her own body, for a solid eight hours.

Just like the day before, her body woke up before her brain did. She opened her eyes to find that she was in the exact same position she'd fallen asleep in, and her muscles felt stiff and sore because of it. She stretched out carefully and winced in pain as her muscles responded, and then the waves of nausea began.

After a rushed trip to the bathroom and the reappearance of at least half her dinner, Beth washed her face and brushed her teeth. She felt groggy and unsteady, but made her way to the kitchen anyway. She opened the fridge to grab a bottled water and maybe some ginger ale, and when she turned around, she found a brand new Holy Bible sitting on the counter with a small sticky note attached to the front.

She rubbed her eyes and tried to clear her vision enough to properly read the familiar, scratchy handwriting:

 _For you.  
-D_

Beth carefully peeled the note from the cover and held the thick, heavy book in her hands. It was a brand new King James Version with a built-in, cloth bookmark and a sturdy, leather cover. When she opened the front and peered inside the cover, she found a tiny inscription in the bottom corner, in the same handwriting from the sticky note. It simply said, " _From Daryl._ "

Guilt tugged at the bottom of Beth's heart and threatened to pull it down to her stomach. She swallowed past a knot in her throat and closed the book again, then carried it carefully to her bedroom. She set it down on the bedside table and stared at her phone, arguing internally with herself about whether to text Daryl or not.

But he hadn't said sorry. And maybe he didn't owe her an apology, but she still felt that his reaction was unnecessary. Even if another part of her didn't exactly agree.

Then again, she didn't understand his reasoning for exploding and maybe that was part of the problem. He knew more about her imaginary ex than she knew about his real one, and she had a feeling that was part of the root of it all. But none of that was any of her business and she wasn't about to try to pry it out of him. If he wanted to talk about it, he probably would've opened up to Carol by now… wouldn't he have?

Clutching her bottle of water in her hands, Beth wandered out into the hall and down to Daryl's bedroom door. It was left partially open and she peeked her head inside to glance around. Malachi's daily toy display was set up on the floor, as usual, and both boys' beds were made neatly. But when she looked to Daryl's bedside table, she saw that the photo atop it was still sitting face-down.

Had Daryl not noticed or bothered to fix it? Or was Beth finding herself caught in the wake of his survivor's guilt?

At this point, she felt that she didn't even have the energy to worry about it. With a sigh, she turned around and walked away from the bedroom door.

 _I shouldn't even be in there,_ she thought. _He made it pretty clear. I overstepped, and now it's freaking him out… What if I have to leave? Where will I go? Back to Craigslist in search of another roommate who doesn't watch the news? Off to another state?_

Beth reached her bed and set the water down on the nightstand before flopping herself down. She shut her eyes and tried to push all the anxiety aside, even though she knew she'd have to face it sooner or later.

She drifted in and out of sleep for a few hours before the nausea settled and she started to gain an appetite again. After lying awake and finding her mind wandering back to the nonsense with Daryl, she decided to get up and make herself something to eat.

After opening the window and letting in some of the fresh, damp air from outside, as well as the sounds of the city, Beth went into the kitchen and cooked herself a couple of scrambled eggs and some toast. She was craving coffee and caffeine, and when she checked the coffee pot for the first time all day, she found that Daryl had left her half a pot. It was cold by now, but as she poured it down the drain, she wondered why he continued doing thoughtful things for her even after he'd blown up. She was so sure he was beyond angry at her that the new Bible was a shock, but the coffee was another surprise.

With her plate of eggs and toast and a fresh cup of coffee, Beth sat down at the small table and prepared to eat. She took a sip of coffee and nearly sighed aloud in relief. Her stomach would probably disagree later, but for now, she was thoroughly enjoying it. As she nibbled on the toast and took a small bite of eggs, she listened to the faint sounds of car horns and distant sirens drifting in from the open window. The sky outside was mostly blue and sunny with only some broken clouds remaining, and the autumn-like temperatures seemed to have brought more people out of their homes.

She silently wondered what Daryl was doing at the moment, and she'd contemplated sending him a text message more than once. Instead, she got up in the middle of eating and went straight to her bedroom, where she retrieved the new Bible and brought it back to the table with her. She propped it open to where she'd left off in Daryl's Bible and began reading while she slowly finished her eggs, toast, and coffee.

For a while, she sat at the table and read over some of her old favorite verses and stories while sipping coffee and letting the city noise play in the background. She absent-mindedly fiddled with the cross and ring hanging round her neck, forgetting about Daryl and her wanted status and the pending court cases.

Once again, she could hear her daddy's voice echoing in her head like a remnant of the past. She could remember the feeling she had when her momma or daddy would read these old Bible stories to her before bed, or when her daddy would preach these passages in Sunday school. These words were the only thing that brought that long-forgotten sense of unconditional love and safety back to her anymore.

Although, admittedly, she'd felt something that had rivaled it when she was lying in bed beside Daryl.

* * *

 _It was almost Thanksgiving. Beth could remember because the leaves on all the trees outside were multi-colored, there was that slight chill in the air, and she could vividly remember pushing open the back door of the farmhouse and putting her hand against the large cartoon turkey that was stuck directly to the middle of the door. Her momma always went all-out with the directions, no matter the holiday. Within the next month and a half, every ceiling on the first floor of the farmhouse would have a dozen or more paper snowflakes hanging from it._

 _At the moment, her momma wasn't home. She'd gone to town for a few last-minute groceries she needed to make dinner, and Beth had come downstairs after spending the last few hours upstairs, doing homework. The seventeen-year-old blonde wandered through the large farmhouse, looking for any signs of her daddy, her brother, or her sister. But she couldn't even seem to find her brother-in-law, let alone anyone else._

 _The house was weirdly quiet for the middle of the day, and even though Beth knew her momma would probably be back soon, she couldn't resist wandering out back and checking around. And sure enough, as soon as she stepped off the porch, she could hear the faint and familiar sounds of her daddy's voice drifting over from the barn – and she was pretty sure she could hear Glenn and Shawn, too._

 _Beth walked a little faster, pulling the white cardigan tighter around herself against the chill of the light wind. She headed for the barn in the distance, spotting light coming from beneath the large door as she got closer. The voices got louder, and when she was a few feet away from the door, a loud yell echoed out from inside and she jumped, halting where she stood._

 _Whoever had been yelling sounded like a man, and he sounded like he was in pain. He was quickly hushed and she heard her daddy's and sister's voices again. She approached the door quietly and carefully, then peered in through the thin space in the large door._

 _The inside of the barn was lit with one of Hershel's lamps that he used for veterinary purposes, and its bright bulb was focused on a makeshift table in the middle of the hay-covered floor. A small tray table with veterinary equipment and a few other medical supplies was set up right next to it. On the table was a black man with his pants pulled down to his ankles and one of his legs laid out in the spotlight of the lamp._

 _And crowding around him was Hershel, Maggie, Glenn, and Shawn – Glenn was bent over the man's leg, a tool in his hand as he squinted down at the thigh in concentration. Hershel was standing right next to him, peering down and watching carefully with pursed lips. Shawn was standing on the other side of him, watching just as closely, and Maggie was standing by and holding the black man's hand while she dabbed at the sweat that was dripping down his face._

 _When Hershel finally moved his head downwards to inspect Glenn's work more closely, Beth caught a full view of the black man's face – and she recognized him. It was T-Dog, a man no older than thirty who'd been attending her daddy's church for years with his mother and aunt. Beth hadn't known for sure, but from what she'd observed, she had assumed her daddy started employing T-Dog in the family business about a year ago. She usually only saw him as he drove up in a dark SUV every Friday morning, or at church every Sunday with his mother and aunt. But every once in a while, he would join the Greene's for breakfast or come over and have Sunday dinner. He was always kind and always a gentleman to everyone on the Greene Farm, even when he'd appeared to be struggling with personal issues and had come to Hershel for advice or help._

 _Beth had never seen him like this, though._

 _His face was scrunched up in pain and he was sweating profusely, even despite Maggie's efforts to keep a cool rag on his head. When Glenn finally moved his hand aside to grab a different instrument from the tray table, Beth saw what he was working on: a dark, red hole in T-Dog's leg was bleeding, and there was a glint of metal that caught the light somewhere within the flesh. When Glenn returned his hands to the wound, he began digging into the bleeding hole with a thin scalpel, his movements careful and precise. Beth winced in empathy; the wound was in a meaty and tender part of T-Dog's thigh, and she knew it had to hurt like a bitch._

" _That's right," Hershel was coaching Glenn, eyes focused on his work. "You're loosening it up nicely, just a few more an' we can start to pull – "_

 _Beth jumped when T-Dog cried out in pain again. "AGGHH!_ _ **Fuck**_ _!"_

 _Glenn jerked his hand back and Hershel snapped, "No! Are you_ _ **trying**_ _to make him bleed out?!_ _ **Careful**_ _, boy!"_

 _Glenn nodded, and Beth didn't have to see his face to know the look of fear in his eyes right now._

 _Shawn was watching with pursed lips, leaning in closely to inspect._

" _See that, Shawn?" Hershel was instructing him as well, attempting to teach two men at once._

" _Man – go easy on me. I might need a breather," T-Dog said, his voice coming out exhausted._

" _You're doin' great," Maggie assured him, giving his hand another squeeze. "It's like rippin' off a bandage – we just gotta get past this part, then it's smooth sailing."_

 _Hershel was still watching Glenn carefully, but he leaned back slightly and muttered, "Maybe for now, but there ain't nothin' about this that means smooth sailing."_

" _Daddy, we can talk about it later," Maggie said, lowering her voice and leaning closer to Hershel. "We_ _ **all**_ _know what this means – but we gotta take it one thing at a time."_

 _Hershel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, and Glenn was slowly and carefully working on the wound with his tool._

 _Beth leaned in closer to the door, her nose touching the cold wood as she strained her ears to hear every word her daddy was saying._

" _I already know this was the Governor's people tryin' to warn us," Hershel muttered, his low tone heavy with dread. "I was afraid a this, but I didn't think – "_

" _Daddy,_ _ **stop**_ _," Maggie said, keeping her voice low as she spoke directly to her father. "We don't know anythin' yet. This was bound ta happen eventually – they're meth heads."_

" _People that shot me," T-Dog's voice broke into their conversation, and he spoke while intermittently clenching his teeth from the pain. "That wasn't no tweakers. I've seen tweakers holdin' guns – they was sober. Whoever it was. I could tell."_

" _This_ _ **isn't**_ _good, Maggie," Hershel said after taking T-Dog's statement into consideration. His voice was low and overwrought as he leaned towards his oldest daughter, "I_ _ **promised**_ _this boy's momma that he'd be safe workin' for me – and now I can't even stop my own people from gettin' shot… It's going too far. I can't… this_ _ **can't**_ _be the life we were workin' towards. It was_ _ **never**_ _supposed t'be this risky – I was never supposed to be teaching my_ _ **sons**_ _how to extract_ _ **bullets**_ _."_

 _Maggie opened her mouth to say something in return, her face showing a hint of defiance. Beth moved her foot a few inches forward to get herself closer to the door, not wanting to miss a word. But the bottom of her shoe slipped on a damp part of the earth in front of the barn door and she stumbled forward._

 _She caught herself, putting her hands out against the heavy, wooden door. But not without making a racket. The wood rattled and the door shook, and when Beth regained her balance and looked through the space again, she saw that all their heads had turned to look in her direction._

' _Shit,' she thought._

 _She quickly turned around and made to fast-walk back to the house, but before she could get more than two steps away, the large barn door was opening just wide enough for Maggie to step out._

" _Beth."_

 _Beth stopped and turned around, shoulders slouching. She finally met Maggie's eyes and saw the stern look on her face._

" _I didn't – "_

 _Before Beth could begin her apology, or excuse, her daddy appeared behind Maggie and stepped out in front of her. If Maggie's face was stern, her daddy's was livid._

" _Beth,_ _ **what**_ _have I told you about this," Hershel started, and his deep voice sent a fear straight down to the pit of Beth's stomach. "You know this is no place for a little girl. How many times does your momma have to punish you for eavesdropping?"_

" _Daddy, I – I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I just – is T-Dog…?"_

" _Don't worry about it," Maggie interrupted, lifting an eyebrow. "T-Dog is fine, and you're not gonna mention a_ _ **word**_ _of this to anybody at church. We have it taken care of – okay?"_

 _Beth nodded, shutting her mouth tightly and swallowing hard._

" _Where's Mom?" Maggie asked, looking at Hershel._

" _She went to the store for a bit – I didn't_ _ **think**_ _I'd have to worry," Hershel replied, keeping his eyes locked on Beth the whole time._

 _She felt the guilt embedding itself in her skin. She looked down to avoid her daddy's disappointed gaze._

 _Maggie turned back to Beth and said, "You'd better get back inside before she comes home. You already got triple dishes duty all week."_

 _Beth raised her head and looked to her sister, "But – "_

 _Maggie silenced her with a firm look, then said, "_ _ **Get**_ _. We can talk later tonight."_

 _Beth could do nothing more than nod and turn tail to rush back inside and upstairs. She didn't leave her bedroom for the rest of the day, except to come downstairs for dinner and her dishes duty._

* * *

Beth's eyes grew tired from reading the small print in the Bible after a couple of hours, and she carefully placed the bookmark between the pages and closed it, then placed it on her bedside table. She checked her phone to find no new texts, reminding herself to text Clem back eventually. The text Clem had sent yesterday had been nothing more than a "what's up" text. Beth assumed she was just checking in or looking for someone to talk to out of boredom. She wanted to reply – in fact, she wanted to send Clementine a multi-page text telling her about Daryl and asking her if he was really an enigma or if it was just Beth being damaged.

But she knew better than that.

Beth sat down on the bed and scrolled through the national news, and then the Georgia and Atlanta news sites. But it seemed the entire country was focused on remembrance stories about 9/11 or gossip about the current administration. In the back of her head, she was dreading the next day because it would be her family's arraignments, and that would mean a news update for sure. But for now, it seemed, she didn't have to worry.

As the afternoon faded into evening, Beth ended up snacking on a handful of the gingersnaps from Carol in between strumming on her guitar. She plucked the strings and played random chords, bursting out with a song or two when they would come to mind. Using one of the picks that Daryl had bought for her.

She wasn't making any particular music, but the sound was soothing to her ears, just like the Bible's words had been soothing to her soul. She ended up getting so wrapped up in the guitar, sitting against the wall on her bed with the guitar in her lap, that she didn't notice how late it had gotten.

The sound of the front door unlocking and opening didn't reach her ears over the guitar, but Malachi's voice rang through the apartment with high energy. Beth stopped strumming and glanced at the clock to see that it was after six, then she glanced over to see a small, blond blur approaching the partially open bedroom door.

She was still sitting against the wall with the guitar in her lap when Malachi raced into the room, stopping and staring at Beth with wide eyes. His face broke into a grin when he recognized the guitar.

"You play guh-tar?!" He asked loudly, excitement evident in his voice.

Beth couldn't help but smile as she nodded and replied cheerfully, "Yep, _and_ piano!"

Malachi was studying the guitar, eyes still wide. "Wow! D-do you – do you, um – d'you know 'Fwee Bird'?"

Beth laughed and nodded. "Yeah, of course. Did your dad tell you to ask me that?"

As if on cue, Daryl appeared in the doorway, still wearing his dirty work clothes and socks while his boots sat by the door. He glanced at Beth but didn't make eye contact, looking to Malachi instead and smirking proudly.

"Taught him that one the first time he saw a guitar," Daryl said. "Boy loves Skynyrd."

Beth continued smiling and looked to Daryl, who was still watching Malachi. "Well he's definitely your kid."

Daryl grunted a half-chuckle. "Yeah. Fer a few months there, when he was a baby, he wouldn't fall asleep unless we had some Hank Williams, Jr. playin' for him."

He finally glanced at Beth for a second but she felt the tension between them almost immediately and diverted her eyes back to the toddler standing in the middle of her room. Daryl seemed to pick up on it and turned his body toward the hall.

"C'mon, kid, let's get cleaned up an' get some dinner," he announced, and Malachi turned to his dad.

Malachi moved toward the door but stopped, arguing, "But, Dad, Rosie's gonna play – "

" _Hey_ , don't argue," Daryl interrupted. "Rosie's in _her_ room, havin' time to herself. Did you _ask_ if you could come in here?"

Malachi shook his head and looked down in guilt. "No…"

Beth was about to speak up and assure Daryl it was okay, but she stopped herself. He was the parent, after all, and she had no right to intervene. But she couldn't help how he was reminding her of Hershel and his strict, no-nonsense attitude when it had come to being a father.

"Maybe if ya ask her nicely, she'll play somethin' for ya after we eat," Daryl said more softly, and Beth looked at him in surprise, then watched the toddler's face light up with excitement.

Malachi turned back to Beth with a giddy smile and asked, "Oh – can – can you, um – oh, _my_ … Can you – can we do the guh-tar um, after – after dinner?!"

Beth held back a laugh and nodded, "That sounds great – but you have t'be good for your dad, and do everything he asks you tonight. Deal?"

Malachi's grin grew larger, if that was possible, and he nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes! Yes! Okay!"

Beth could hear Daryl give a quiet chuckle as Malachi rushed to join him in the hall, then both boys headed to the bathroom and bedroom to get ready for dinner.

She took her time crawling off the bed and returning the guitar to its spot in the corner. Her fingers were sore from playing, but her stomach was beginning to rumble with hunger. Just as she turned around to head toward the door again, she saw that Daryl had backtracked from down the hall and was standing in the doorway again, hand in his pocket.

"Oh – hey," she said, a bit startled at his reappearance when she hadn't expected it. She was beginning to realize he moved almost silently most of the time.

"Hey, almos' forgot," he started, speaking more quietly than usual.

Daryl pulled his hand from the pocket of his jacket to reveal a small box wrapped in a plastic grocery store bag. He held it out for Beth to take and she did so hesitantly, studying the object and trying to figure out what it was.

"What's this?" She asked, carefully unwrapping the bag from around the box and pulling it out. The corner of the packaging read: _Emergency Contraceptive._

"Uh, Plan B," he replied, gesturing to the small, white box that Beth was now holding in her hand. "Just thought, if ya wanted. I know ya said yer on the pill, but… Like uh, jus' an extra – uh, precaution. 'Sposed ta work within seventy-two hours after…"

His voice trailed off but Beth already understood what he meant. And she knew how Plan B worked, but now that it was in her hands, she was asking herself why Daryl had thought to take this precaution before _she_ had.

She hadn't even skipped a beat when she'd lied about being on birth control.

 _Why…?_ She thought.

"Oh – um, thank you," Beth stammered, cheeks heating up. She cleared her throat and looked up to meet Daryl's eyes, which were watching her anxiously. "And… thanks for the Bible, too. I'm sorry about that. Really. You were right, I – I shoulda thought about how I was oversteppin'…"

She watched him purse his lips and look down at his socks instead. He nodded.

She started again, "I can pay you back fer this – "

But he lifted his head and stopped her, "Nah, it's pretty cheap. An' I ain't sayin' ya gotta take it, jus' wanted… ta give ya that option."

Beth nodded but Daryl wouldn't look into her eyes for more than a couple of seconds at a time. "Well, thank you…"

He cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then finally looked directly at her and said, "Makin' grilled chicken fer dinner. Think the kid's pretty set on havin' ya join us – if yer feelin' up to it."

She smiled sheepishly and nodded. "'Course I am."

She saw a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but he quickly turned his head and began heading back toward the bathroom and the sound of Malachi's voice while muttering, "Alright – sounds good."

After Daryl disappeared into the bathroom, Beth retreated back to her bedroom and shut the door. She sat down on the bed and listened to the faint sounds of Malachi and Daryl washing up in the bathroom while she stared down at the plastic, white box in her hands. She tossed the bag it had come from into the trash and read through the instructions, warnings, and ingredients on the back.

Daryl had gotten a generic brand called Take Action, but the designs and colors were easily recognizable and even though Beth had never needed to use one of these before, she had seen them and handled them, and she was well aware of their uses and side effects. She'd had a couple of classmates in school who'd had to take them. And Maggie had even offered to buy some for Beth if she ever needed it – without telling Momma or Daddy, of course.

But now that she had it in her hands and was staring down at it, knowing that it was meant for her, she knew she couldn't take it. One of the very first warnings in bold print on the back of the package stated: " _Do not take if you are pregnant or think you might be pregnant._ "

Beth felt a small twinge in her abdomen – another of the phantom menstrual pains that kept haunting her and teasing her. The back of her throat was beginning to burn, and she only realized her eyes were filling with tears when her vision began to get blurry.

 _August… eleventh,_ she thought. _Fuck… and now it's September eleventh and… when was my last period? What day was that? It feels like forever ago… was it a couple weeks before? Or…_

She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to recall anything that had happened before the night she started running. It was all so blurry and emotionally exhausting, the entire month felt like one long week. She couldn't remember having her period since… any of that. Not since August Eleventh, that's for sure. And the last time before that had been…

 _July…?_ She thought. _Shit, July, really? Maybe… towards the end? I remember Jimmy not wanting to hang out with me, and then… it was like, a week… maybe? Was it? …And then… August Eleventh. And no period… No. Fucking. Period._

She opened her eyes and stared straight ahead at the wall across the room, but she wasn't looking at anything. Her face was filled with dread and she could feel the pit of her stomach dropping downward. A knot had formed in her throat and she was gripping the plastic box in her hand so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

 _How am I supposed to deal with this?_ She asked herself. _No ID, on the run, no family… This can't… possibly be real… not this one._ _ **Please**_ _not this one._

But in the back of her head, she knew the truth, and she'd known it for a little while. Her lies were coming so easily these days that now, she couldn't even stop from lying to _herself_. Which is what she'd been doing for at least the last week. There was no part of her that _truly_ believed it was the stress alone causing her to vomit every morning.

 _No, I_ _ **don't**_ _know it yet. Not for sure,_ she told herself, trying to stop her breathing from becoming erratic. _I can get a test, I can find out – it could just be late. Really late... This could all be from stress. I can't just assume – I need to get a test... I still have twenty-four hours before this pill becomes ineffective. I'll just get a test tomorrow, while the boys are gone, and I'll take it, and then I'll be sure and I can take this and be_ _ **extra**_ _sure that I won't_ _ **ever**_ _have to deal with…_ _ **that**_ _._

Beth kept repeating these steps in her head for a few minutes, staring down at the box in her hand and listening to the thumping of her heart in her chest. There was still plenty of panic left inside her, but for now, she was calming herself with a plan of action. She focused on being as optimistic as possible – this wasn't the first late period she'd ever had, after all.

… _But it's the first time I've ever had morning sickness,_ she thought, and swallowed hard against the burning sensation in her throat.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Next chapter will be posted in just a few days, like this one was, since this chapter and last were so short. Next chapter is also longer. They were originally written as a whole and I split it into two due to length  
There are still plenty more flashbacks to come. And I think T-Dog deserves more love from the fandom.  
As for the pregnancy thing... this will NOT be your typical unplanned pregnancy fic in ANY sense of the word, so if you're hoping Daryl will raise Beth's rape baby, this ain't the story for you. Also, I've had more people telling me they love Malachi, which makes me super happy, so I'm trying to include him a little more. Anyway, let me know what you think (even if you hate it!) and get yourselves prepared for next chapter! ;)


	26. we turn ourselves inside out, expose wha

You probably aren't reading this story if you don't read explicit/graphic content, but **WARNING** : this chapter gets explicit again.

* * *

 _ **we turn ourselves inside out, expose what we're afraid to see**_

Beth remained in her bedroom, trying to calm herself and slow her racing mind. She passed the time with scrolling through news articles and reading over a handful of them. By the time she heard Daryl calling, "Food's ready!" from outside her door, she was confident that her face had regained most of its color after the ghostly quality she'd taken on from the weight of her realization.

She went to the bathroom and washed her hands, assuring herself that she looked mostly normal. The last thing she needed right now was Daryl picking up on her worry. She just wanted to sit down and have a normal evening, pretending she didn't have a million and one problems weighing down on her shoulders.

Daryl set the table for three people, placing Malachi on the small, edge spot so they could be together, and also because Malachi's setting took up less space. Beth sat down at the table, her back toward the front door, and watched Daryl arranging his son's plate and cup of milk. Both of the boys had already washed up and changed into pajamas for the night. The toddler sat in his chair, propped up on his knees, and eagerly grabbed his utensils.

When Malachi was settled in and digging in to his food, Daryl sat down in the chair across from Beth and picked up his own utensils. Beth realized he was drinking a glass of ginger ale, but he'd set out two glasses for her – one with ginger ale and the other with water. She sipped the soda and caught Daryl glancing at her from the corner of her eye. Then she looked down at her food and began tentatively eating, relieved when she tasted the chicken and her body didn't try to fight back against it.

Malachi began to tell one of his stories, apparently tired of the three seconds of silence that had settled over the table. "Um, Dad, so uh – um, today, Carol…"

Beth glanced at the toddler and slowly ate while she and Daryl listened to him talk, his voice trailing off at times and completely jumping subjects at others. But he went on for at least five minutes while Beth and Daryl nodded and ate their dinners, and Daryl gave "mm-hmm" and "hunh-uh" grunts when his son asked him questions. Then he instructed the toddler to focus more on getting his green beans into his mouth instead of all over his lap.

While Malachi struggled to pick up green beans with his fork and maneuver them to his mouth, Daryl spoke between mouthfuls of food, "Oh, Carol said ta jus' bring her plate back whenever yer done with it. Don't forget, though. She'll come lookin' for it."

Beth looked up from her food and met Daryl's eyes, giving him a small smile and a nod. "Okay, I'll be sure to."

He gazed back at her and said, "An' she, uh, wanted me ta ask how yer feelin'…?"

Beth nodded and tried not to let any of the worry show through on her face. "Better… Um, the cookies kinda helped. So…"

"Ah… good," Daryl wavered and cleared his throat, looking back down to his plate and stabbing another piece of chicken with his fork. He asked, "Whatcha think? Is it edible?"

Beth nodded and said, "Yeah, it's really good."

She took another bite as Mal chirped up, "Yeah, it's – I like it! Yer a good cook, Dad!"

Daryl chuckled, "Thanks, bud."

Beth continued to quietly eat while Malachi went on asking his father questions and telling another story. Daryl was the first to finish his meal and then he was beginning to clean up the table while urging Malachi to finish his last couple of bites.

Within about ten minutes, Beth had finished eating and Daryl grabbed up her dirty dishes before she had a chance to stand up.

"Oh – thanks," she said, turning to watch him carry the dishes back to the kitchen.

Malachi had taken his own plate to the kitchen and Daryl called back to Beth, "I'm gonna clean this up. Better get that guitar ready, it'll be bedtime soon."

Beth smiled to herself and nodded, finishing her glass of ginger ale and heading to her bedroom to grab the guitar from its spot in the corner, slipping the pick from where it was tucked behind the strings. She returned and walked past the table to take a seat on the couch. She sat perched on the edge with the guitar in her lap, plucking the strings to assure they were still tuned.

At the recognizable sound of the instrument, Malachi rushed into the living room, his face lit up with excitement.

"Oh, oh – what're you gonna pway?!" He asked with wide eyes and a big smile.

Beth chuckled and shrugged, "I dunno. What d'you wanna hear? Besides 'Free Bird'."

Daryl must've been able to hear her from the kitchen, even over the sound of the running water, because Beth heard him let out a laugh. She smiled and kept her eyes on Malachi.

The toddler put a hand to his chin to dramatize his thoughtfulness, pursing his lips and gazing upwards for a few seconds while he made a "hmmm" noise in his throat. Beth had to stop herself from giggling at how much Malachi resembled Daryl in that moment.

"Umm… do-d'you know the Mail Song?" He finally asked, looking at Beth expectantly.

"The Mail Song?" Beth asked, furrowing her brow. "Is that – "

"From ' _Blue's_ _Clues'_!" Daryl called from the kitchen, where he was still washing dishes.

"Thought so," Beth smiled, and Mal grinned.

She placed her fingers over the frets carefully and began strumming with the pick, going off her memory to recreate the song as closely as possible. It must've been an accurate rendition because the toddler started laughing and clapping along.

Beth started singing playfully, " _Ohh-h-h, it's the mail, it never fails_ – "

Malachi, grinning, sang along loudly and happily, " _Makes me wanna wag my tail! When it comes, I wanna wail:_ _ **MAA-A-AA-AIL**_!"

Beth strummed the last chord loudly and ended the song to enthusiastic applause from Mal. Then they laughed together until Beth thought of another song to play and began strumming again.

Daryl finished up in the kitchen and joined them a few minutes later, glass of whiskey in hand. He paused next to the couch and lifted his glass to Beth when she looked at him, silently offering her a drink. She shook her head and turned back to Mal and the guitar without missing a beat in her playing or singing, and Daryl walked around Mal to take a seat on the end of the couch.

He sat down and relaxed into the cushion, sipping his whiskey and watching Beth play with tired eyes. She glanced at him and smiled in between verses, and he returned the look with a smirk while Malachi playfully danced around the living room floor and clapped to the songs.

Without really thinking about it, Beth began playing a familiar and well-known old tune, and as soon as the music hit her ears, she was remembering being just a bit older than Malachi and singing along to this song in Sunday school. It seemed Malachi had heard the song before, too, because he sang along to some of the words and continued smiling in excitement.

"… _He's got my brothers and my sisters, in His hands, He's got the whole world in His ha-ands,_ " Beth sang, while Malachi mimicked her and clapped along. " _He's got the sun and the rain, in His hands, He's got the moon and the stars, in His hands. He's got the wind and the clouds in His hands, He's got the whole world in His ha-ands!_ "

She glanced at Daryl in her peripherals and saw him watching Malachi with a smirk. He looked over at her a few times and she felt her face growing warm from singing.

"… _He's got you and He's got me, in his hands… He's got the whole world in His ha-ands,_ " Beth continued, wrapping up the song.

When she finished singing and the last chord faded out, Malachi's giggling slowly faded until he'd settled and was visibly yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"Gettin' sleepy?" Daryl asked, sipping his whiskey.

Mal shook his head, "No, no, not-not really."

Beth chuckled and looked over to Daryl, who was holding back a small smile.

"Ri-ight," he said. "''S gettin' ta be bedtime there, American Idol."

Malachi let out a whine and immediately begged, "Oh, Dad, one more, _pwease_?"

Beth covered her mouth to hide her smile and Daryl rolled his eyes. But she saw the small smile on his lips and then he replied, "Alright, _one_ more. Then it's time ta go lay down."

The toddler grinned again and looked at Beth, waiting for her to start playing something else he recognized.

With a mischievous smile on her face, Beth began strumming an old song and singing the familiar lyrics, waiting for Daryl to catch on, " _Ohh, the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon_ – "

"Nope! Not that one," Daryl interrupted, leaning forward and moving like he was going to stand up and leave. But he was smirking and Beth saw the playful look in his eyes as she grinned and laughed.

"Oh, c'mon, you don't wanna hear that song?" She joked between her laughter, though she had stopped playing.

Daryl chuckled and relaxed back into the couch, shaking his head. "You _tryin'_ ta make a grown man cry in front of his boy? C'mon now."

Beth laughed again and Daryl smiled playfully while Malachi stood and waited for another song with confusion on his face.

"Alright, alright," she said, her laughter fading and another song popping into her head. "We'll just go with some Cat Stevens tonight."

Daryl raised his glass in cheers as Beth began strumming the chords, and the familiar old tune to "Wild World" filled the small apartment. Malachi danced around, though with much less enthusiasm as he was growing more and more tired. Beth smiled to herself when she thought about how Malachi danced very similarly to his father.

As the song poured from her, she was focused on nothing else but the guitar in her hands, the lyrics in her head, and the tiny, blonde boy in front of her. She didn't even care how red her cheeks were probably turning. Especially not when she could see Daryl staring at her from the corner of her eye.

And especially not when she knew how many other things she'd be worrying about when the apartment eventually grew quiet again.

* * *

Despite the dinner and guitar playing, Beth could still feel the tension between her and Daryl. Admittedly, she was growing a bit frustrated with how difficult it was to gauge him and his emotions. And it only confused her more when she felt the _strong_ urge to kiss him as well as the _slight_ urge to hide away in her bedroom and avoid him altogether.

Daryl took Malachi to bed – after the toddler gave "Rosie" a sincere thanks for the music and a very warm hug goodnight and a kiss on the cheek, of course – and Beth returned the guitar to its spot in her bedroom. But just before leading the toddler away and down the hall, Daryl had turned on the TV and left it on at low volume, leaving a newly-filled glass of whiskey sitting on the coffee table. Beth understood that he'd be back, and she didn't know if he particularly wanted her to still be in the living room when he returned. But for the time being, she would've rather sat in awkward silence with Daryl on the couch than go to her bedroom and try to trick herself into falling asleep while she worried about taking a trip to the store the next day. Just the thought of buying a pregnancy test was making the grilled chicken and green beans toss around in her stomach.

The TV had been left on the cartoon channel that was already turned on from the last time it had been used. Beth sat down on the cushion next to the spot where Daryl would be sitting and began flipping through the channels, trying to decide on something to watch. She wondered if he had intended on watching something in particular when he returned. She placed the remote back on the coffee table and left the TV on some sitcom rerun, then glanced up to see Daryl appearing from the hallway.

He paused near the table and asked, "Want a drink? Non-alcoholic, maybe?"

Beth shook her head. "No, I'm good. Thanks, though."

Daryl nodded and shuffled to the couch, taking his seat near the end and picking up his glass of whiskey. He relaxed and began watching the TV, but Beth wondered if he was really watching or if his mind was elsewhere, too.

They sat in silence until another commercial break came on. Malachi was surprisingly silent from the end of the hallway, leaving nothing but the quiet sounds of the TV filling the living room. Daryl had shut the window and blocked out the chilly, night air and the sounds of the city.

Halfway through the block of commercials, Beth felt like her tongue might swell up with all the words she wasn't saying. She'd started a conversation with Daryl at least fifty different ways inside her head, but none of them felt right in her mouth. Finally, she figured saying _something_ was better than sitting in this tense silence all night and inevitably parting ways without a word.

That urge to kiss him was still kicking from somewhere within her.

Tentatively, she started, "I'm – um, sorry. Again. For – "

Daryl shook his head and looked over at her, lifting the glass to his lips and pausing before taking a drink to mutter, "Don't be. It wasn't… didn't mean ta, uh…"

He gave up and sipped the whiskey instead, giving a brief shrug. But Beth understood, and she nodded with pursed lips.

She watched him swallow the alcohol and relax again, then he turned his head toward her and she saw him chewing the inside of his cheek before he muttered, "Those uh, _fresh_ _wounds_ , huh…"

Beth curled her legs up underneath her on the couch cushion and placed her hands in her lap, picking at her fingernails anxiously without thinking about it. "Fer both of us, I s'pose…"

Daryl nodded curtly and glanced away from her, then back. He reached up with his free hand and stroked the hair on his chin almost nervously, and she saw him glancing toward her chest. Then he gestured toward it with the glass in his hand.

"So you, uh, really believe in that stuff, huh?" He mumbled, sipping his whiskey again as soon as the words had come out.

She realized he'd been gesturing toward her necklace and she reached up to absent-mindedly touch it. Then she nodded. "Yeah, I do. Always have."

She thought about the cursive writing inside the cover of the old Bible and added, "You… probably don't, I'm guessin'…"

He shrugged and gazed at the TV blankly. "Nah, that was – it was always more my ex's thing. Can't say I really believe anythin' in particular."

 _Is he actually talking about her? Or should I pretend I didn't hear that?_ Beth wondered.

"Was she… Christian?" She asked, taking a guess.

Daryl nodded, still staring blankly at the TV. "Yeah. Real Jesus freak... Always was, though. Never tried ta push it on me, but she wanted Mal ta have that – faith, I s'pose. A belief in somethin' bigger… Tried takin' him ta Sunday school an' church a few times, but he's too little yet. Can't sit still through that stuff."

She thought about how Malachi had known the words to one of her favorite Sunday school songs. "Oh – so his name…?"

Her voice trailed off but he nodded and turned his head to look at her. "Yeah, she picked it. Wanted him ta have a biblical name. Can't say I really cared, though. Figured she was the one who had ta carry him an' give birth to him, least I could do is let her name him whatever she wanted."

Beth smiled. "That's sweet."

Daryl shrugged and she could see him contemplating his words inside his head. He took another sip of whiskey, then muttered, "So you believe 'cause yer family raised ya to, or does it do somethin' for ya?"

She raised her eyebrows, still smiling. "Neither. I mean, yeah, I was raised to, but I didn't just blindly believe. I… I dunno, I really do believe it. I don't need it to _do_ nothin' for me, just… it's nice, sometimes. To not feel so alone. To have some kinda… faith. In somethin' bigger than yourself."

He narrowed his eyes and studied her thoughtfully as she spoke, nodding along to her words. Then he asked, "Yeah, but this dude yer prayin' to – _God_ or whoever… ain't ya kinda mad that he lets all this shit happen t'you? Like, what'd you do ta deserve all that? 'Sides pray to him an' worship him yer whole life? Kinda seems like a messed-up dude who jus' wants ta punish everybody."

Beth's gaze drifted away from Daryl's eyes and she mulled over his words for a moment. Sure, he made a point, in a way. And it wasn't like she hadn't heard this same argument from other people before. Her daddy had always taught her to approach all non-believers with care and respect, and not to shove her own personal beliefs on other people.

She could hear her Daddy's voice in her head, " _You never know what someone has gone through and what reasons they have for their beliefs, Bethy. We all fight our own battles in our own ways._ "

Then again, this was Daryl Dixon. And she didn't want to make assumptions, but it seemed he'd been posing these questions long before Beth showed up.

She looked into his eyes again and saw him waiting patiently for her response. She shrugged, hoping she didn't appear indifferent, but also not wanting to come off as preachy or naïve. "Honestly… yeah, I guess it is messed up. But I don't… _blame_ God. It's not His fault. We're all given free will, and humans are far from perfect. All of us… There's a lot of people who will tell you it's God testin' us, but – I dunno, I just don't think it's that simple… He has a plan for everybody, but we can't know about it. We can't understand it. That's why it's so important ta have faith – to just believe, even when you don't feel like you can anymore. If you let all the bad change you an' beat you down, then… what was the point?"

Daryl watched her carefully the entire time she talked, taking in her words and studying her face. She felt her cheeks turning red and turned her head away from him to feign scratching the back of her neck for a moment.

He spoke in a quiet voice, "That's how she used ta talk… jus' like that. Then somethin' changed… God left her. He turned his back on her. And she gave up."

Beth's breath caught in her throat and she stared at Daryl while chewing on her lower lip.

 _Well, that explains a lot,_ she thought.

"God can't always save us from ourselves," she said, and her voice came out no louder than a whisper.

She didn't know how he'd react to her words, and she almost regretted speaking. But he didn't look away or become angry. In fact, his expression didn't change. He continued staring back at her with that thoughtful look on his face.

"Then how d'you keep prayin' to him? If you know he ain't got the answers," Daryl asked quietly, sounding genuinely curious.

Beth shrugged briefly but didn't break their eye contact. "'Cause I don't expect answers. Just… hope."

He nodded as if that made sense and looked down at the glass in his hands, thumb moving across the condensation on the glass. She could see him biting his bottom lip.

The silence hung around them for a moment, the TV playing like background noise. A question hung off the tip of Beth's tongue and she nearly bit it back. But the tension was slowly dissolving between them with each quiet word, and she decided to throw caution to the wind.

"You… call her your _ex_ ," she started, glancing at his face tentatively and watching his eyes lift to meet hers. "How come?"

"Whatcha mean?" He grunted.

Her heart sped up a little and she clarified, "Well, I just wondered… most people don't… I-I jus' mean, did you guys… end badly or somethin'?"

She was stumbling over her words now, unsure of how to word it without sounding unnecessarily nosey. She was afraid he'd get upset that she mentioned Malachi's mother, but was relieved to see his expression unchanged when she finally got the question out.

He continued staring down at his drink for a few seconds, then answered quietly, "We, uh… yeah, I s'pose. I didn't do enough – too wrapped up in figurin' out how ta be a good dad, I let bein' a good boyfriend fall t'the wayside. All the classes we went to an' none of 'em told us how serious postpartum depression was. I thought… I jus' – I didn't know... We got in a big fight, she packed some shit an' left… I didn't go lookin' for her. I was… _furious_. She said she _had_ ta leave, had ta get away from Mal 'fore she did somethin' _bad_. I thought… how could she ever say that, how could she ever _do_ that…? I thought she loved me – thought she loved _us_ … I shoulda known better. I _did_ know better… Jus' too damn _stubborn_ to… When I finally pulled my head outta my ass, it was too late. Found the motel she was stayin' at an'… I had ta break the door down. By the time I got to her, she was already cold."

Daryl didn't raise his eyes from the glass in his hand, nor did he look back at Beth while she stared at him. She tried not to look too shocked, but she'd had to hold back a gasp at his words.

She'd wanted an answer to her question, but she hadn't expected to get one. And she certainly hadn't expected to get _this_ explanation.

She swallowed hard but didn't tear her eyes away from him. She could see the darkness in his eyes and the deep remorse and regret on his face. He suddenly looked ten years older.

"I'm sorry," she choked out quietly. "I – shouldn't've asked. I didn't mean to…"

Her voice trailed off but Daryl shrugged and finally lifted his head to look at her, forcing a small smile as if to assure them both that it was fine. But she could tell it was far from fine.

"'S alright. Been long enough, no reason I shouldn't be able ta talk about it," he said, and she could hear the knot in his throat before he coughed and cleared it. "Guess that was more than ya asked for. I'ono why I keep blabberin' on like an asshole… Sorry."

Beth quickly shook her head. "Don't be. It's… good ta talk about it. Y'know, after a while."

She watched him nod and slowly take another sip of his drink. She swore she could see still a trace of regret on his face and it gave her the strangest urge to wrap her arms around him tightly.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, their eyes drifting over to the TV and watching it without really paying attention. Daryl continued to sip his drink while Beth picked at her fingernails in her lap, discreetly glancing at him every other minute. She thought she saw him looking at her from the corner of his eye a time or two, as well, but wasn't sure.

After two more commercial breaks without speaking a word, Beth turned her head to look at him and cleared her throat, stretching her legs out and placing her feet on the carpeted floor.

"Well, think I might… go t'bed," she mumbled, standing up and stretching her arms above her head for a second. She really was growing tired, but in all honesty, she knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep for at least another couple of hours.

Daryl nodded and watched her slip past him to head toward her bedroom at a leisurely pace. "Alright."

As she turned down the hall, she heard him shut off the TV and stand up from the couch. She stopped just inside her bedroom door, the light still off, and listened as Daryl's footsteps approached behind her. Her heart started beating faster and she wasn't sure why.

She turned around and watched him leave his glass in the kitchen before approaching her. She didn't know if he was already going to walk up to her or if he did it just because she was standing still and looking at him expectantly. Either way, she found them standing about a foot apart in the doorway of her bedroom and she licked her lips before she spoke, finding her mouth to be dry.

"I'll uh, make dinner tomorrow," she said quietly, the silence around them hanging heavier without the TV in the background. "Unless you were planning on somethin' else."

Daryl shook his head and glanced down to his socks, then back up to her eyes. "Ya ain't gotta do that."

Beth shrugged, wondering why he was saying this again. She reassured him, "It's no big deal. You cooked tonight, so…"

Her voice trailed off and he nodded, one hand stroking his chin thoughtfully while the other hung at his side. He mumbled, "Yeah, but… it ain't like _that_ …"

She furrowed her brow, confused, and studied his face to try to figure out what he was referring to. "What d'you mean?"

He shrugged and looked down at his socks again. "Jus'… like you said last night – it ain't _like_ _that_. We don't gotta… play _house_ or somethin', ya know, just 'cause we…"

Her confusion began to fade as she recalled their awkward exchange the night before, right before he'd freaked out over the Bible. It started to click in her head that he listened to her words much more closely than she would've thought.

And she was beginning to realize that his mind probably worked a lot like hers – against him, and tirelessly.

She gave him a look that showed how baffled she was and spoke softly, "Daryl, I… I didn't mean it like that. I just meant, I hadn't even really admitted t'myself that I could _see_ you that way – or that you could see _me_ that way, but then everything… You didn't – I don't…"

She swallowed and watched him chewing on the tip of his thumb anxiously, nodding briefly in understanding, and lifting his gaze from his socks to watch her when she couldn't find the right thing to say. He lowered his hand back to his side and waited, dark blue eyes gazing at her expectantly.

But she couldn't seem to form a coherent sentence at this exact second. She could see him forming words behind his closed lips and she hesitated, wanting to hear what else he had to say before she tried to explain herself any further.

When he realized this, Daryl spoke quietly, but his voice was low and serious. "I'mma be honest with ya fer a minute – no beatin' around the bush er whatever... I, uh – I got this buddy, Dwight, at work. An' he's got this wife, Sherry, nice gal – but he's 'bout the only person I talk to 'sides Carol. An' now you… And I, um…"

He sighed and he seemed almost frustrated with himself, but Beth stood and waited patiently, gazing at him with attentive eyes and pursed lips. She was biting down on the inside of her cheek so hard, she thought she might draw blood.

He continued, "Well, he's the one who told me ta stop beatin' 'round the bush. He usually jus' talks out of his ass, but – today, he said somethin' an' I think he might be right... Said it don't matter how fucked up we are, what kinda fresh wounds we got, 'cause that shit ain't ever goin' away, but we – we found each other an' it ain't gotta be, ya know – it ain't s'posed ta be some rom-com or _fairy tale_ or somethin', and neither one of us knows what could end up happenin', but… maybe we just… Shit, I dunno. Maybe I sound retarded right now, but I gotta believe that dipshit when he tells me his ol' lady changed his life fer the better. An' I don't wanna be the emotionally stunted asshole who runs off the only person I've given a shit about since…"

Daryl's voice trailed off and Beth found her own voice stuck in her throat.

"I ain't… tryna _propose_ to ya or nothin'," he said when he realized she was still staring at him expectantly and wasn't opening her mouth to speak. "It's just – I ain't got the _energy_ fer the bullshit... I been keepin' shit in fer years and it always worked, but now this shit's been all I can think about fer _days_ an' it – it's drivin' me fuckin' crazy every day, wonderin' if I'll come home an' find ya… gone…"

Beth parted her lips to say something, taken aback by his uncharacteristic candor. But the only thing that would come out was a weak, "Daryl…"

He sighed again and waved his hand dismissively, "Ya ain't gotta – you don't gotta say nothin'. I just… I'm sick of bein' the one ta not say shit. An' then I wish I did. So I guess… I wanna say that I _don't_ want ya t'go. And-an' I _do_ want more nights like tonight, and… maybe we can be… all fucked up an' broken together… Or maybe things'll change, maybe you'll see what an asshole I am an' get sick a me an' wanna leave – that's fine. Or – you can always tell me ta fuck off right here, right now. That's fine, too. An' I'll know I deserved it. But… at least I'll _know_. 'Least I didn't beat around the damn bush no more. 'Least I can tell Dwight to shut his mouth when he tries callin' me a pussy again."

 _He's talked about this at work? Thought about it while he was gone? Thought about_ _ **me**_ _?_ She questioned silently.

Beth opened her mouth, heart thumping against her chest, and spoke hesitantly, "I… don't think I've ever heard you talk that much at once…"

Despite the tension, she gave him a small, light-hearted smile and he returned it sheepishly before looking down at his socks again.

A few long seconds passed before she found the words she'd been searching for and forced her mouth to put them into sentences. "I would never tell you to fuck off, but… I don't – I'm not tryin' ta take her place, ya know. I would never want that."

Daryl furrowed his brow and quickly said, "I know that. Ya never could. _Nobody_ could. It ain't – I didn't want you to think – "

"I don't," Beth stopped him. "But… I don't want you worryin' about me. You've got enough going on in your life to keep you busy without addin' me an' my bullshit…"

He shrugged, eyes still set on her as he blinked slowly. "I ain't worried about ya. An' trust me, yer bullshit ain't nothin' to me. I know the deal... Wouldn't say it's an uneven trade… Carol used ta tell me, people like us are better when we stick together…"

He smirked, attempting to lighten the tension, but her expression remained serious.

Her voice came out soft but stern when she said, "I don't need you to _save_ me."

Daryl's smirk quickly faded and he took a tentative half-step forward, closing some of the distance between them as he gazed down at her. She suddenly felt exposed before him.

He said quietly, "I ain't tryin' to. You don't need me fer that."

She stared back at him with wide eyes in the dimly lit apartment, mouth slightly open like she had intended on speaking.

"Jus'… promise me somethin'," he mumbled, finally breaking their eye contact and glancing downward.

"What?" She asked, furrowing her brow.

He reached out and took her arm gently in his hand, and she looked down at it as he then turned it over to reveal the thin, white scar on the inside of her wrist. He brought his other hand up to lightly trace a calloused fingertip across the thickened line of skin.

Chills ran up and down Beth's arms, but she didn't even have the urge to pull away. His hand was warm on her skin.

Then he whispered, "Don't leave without givin' me a chance ta say goodbye…"

She looked up and into his dark blue eyes again and a whole new set of chills ran through her body.

Beth couldn't tell if she had leaned in first or if Daryl had, but the next thing she knew, their faces were inches apart and quickly closing the distance. She closed her eyes and felt his soft lips pressed against hers, and suddenly all the tension that had built up in her muscles from stress was melting away, along with all her inhibitions. She felt his other hand reaching around and gently grasping the back of her neck.

The fluttering in her stomach was back, and it was turning into a cold chill that was finding its way outward to her limbs.

After a few long seconds, Daryl pulled his lips away just an inch or two, his warm hand still placed firmly on the back of her neck and his fingers tangling in her hair. She lifted her lids just enough to see him gazing at her with hooded eyes and red, parted lips. She could see the question in his eyes before he repeated it.

"I promise," she breathed, and as soon as the words came out, Daryl was pressing his mouth over hers again and kissing her harder. His fingers pressed into the tender skin on the back of her neck and scalp, and those cold chills seemed to be merging together and shooting straight between Beth's legs.

He didn't taste like cigarettes tonight, but he still had that familiar musk on him and now it was like an intoxicating high as it enveloped Beth. She was breathing in nothing but Daryl, feeling nothing but his stubbly face against hers, his warm body against hers.

All the things that had been weighing on her mind, that she knew would keep her awake for hours, were suddenly unimportant, and she couldn't remember even _one_ at this very moment. All she could think about was the growing ache between her thighs and the way Daryl's tongue was pushing against her lips, begging for entrance. Her body was beginning its greedy chant of more, _more_ …

She thought he must've sensed it on her, or maybe he was just _that_ good at reading a woman's body (clearly, he had _a_ _lot_ of experience…), but he seemed to know how badly she wanted to feel him against her because he stood so closely that there wasn't a centimeter of space separating them. And then he slipped his leg between hers, parting her thighs and using his free hand to firmly grab her by the ass and bring her in even closer to him, until they were pressed together and his upper thigh was causing the most _amazing_ friction _right_ _there_.

 _Is this what he needed?_ She thought. _To know that I'm not just a one night stand or some weird fling?_

She wrapped her arms around him and dug her fingers into his back. She heard him groan faintly and then he was nudging her backward, urging her back across the threshold and inside the bedroom. At this point, he probably could've picked her up with one arm and put her wherever he wanted because she was so preoccupied with his tongue and his lips and that fucking _leg_ between hers. She was putty in his hands and she did not mind one little bit.

Within seconds, they'd inched their way back until Daryl could swing the door shut with his foot. When she heard the latch click, Beth broke their kiss and pulled her face away just a couple of inches, breathing heavily. She opened her eyes and glanced past Daryl, at the door behind him.

She couldn't help but remember that Malachi was just down the hall…

"What if he comes in here?" She asked, looking up into Daryl's hooded eyes and trying not to glance at his swollen lips for just a second.

"He's knocked, he won't wake up," Daryl whispered, leaning into her again but kissing her on the cheek instead of the mouth. Then he trailed his lips along her cheek and to her ear, pausing to breathe into it, "…if we stay _quiet_."

A shiver ran through Beth at the combination of his words, the low growl in his voice, and his hot breath in her ear. She could feel the goosebumps forming down one arm. His hand squeezed her ass tighter and she found herself grinding against his leg again as she captured his lips in a hungry kiss, clamping her front teeth down gently onto his bottom lip. He growled from the back of his throat and kissed her harder, fingers massaging her buttcheek and simulatenously pulling her in closer, pressing his leg tighter against the heat between her thighs.

Beth let herself get lost in him, closing her eyes and focusing on nothing but the building sensations inside her and Daryl's warm mouth. She could feel her panties getting damp and she moaned against Daryl's lips when his leg rubbed against a _particularly_ sensitive spot. She could feel him smiling into their kiss, and then he was carefully nudging her backward and guiding their steps across the dark bedroom to the bed.

When Beth could feel the edge of the bed right behind her, she gave Daryl's lower lip a lingering suck as he briefly broke their kiss. She opened her eyes to see him pulling off his shirt, and while it was being yanked over his head, she glanced down and saw the erection hiding beneath his pajama pants. She bit her lip and when he tossed his shirt aside, she quickly looked up to meet his eyes again.

He stared at her like she was a hidden oasis and he was a hiker lost in the desert. He reached out and gently grabbed her by the back of the head again, fingers tangling in her hair, and pulled her back in to greedily kiss her raw, red lips.

But just as she was beginning to explore his mouth again, he pulled her head back and opened his eyes to look her up and down. The licentious glaze over his eyes sent another delicious shiver all through her body. He bit his lip briefly, as if he were holding himself back, and reached out to grab the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head when she raised her arms. He tossed it aside, then reached for the waistband of her pants, and she allowed him to tug it downwards until she was kicking the pants aside and standing before him in nothing but her panties.

He pulled back and stared at her for a long couple of seconds, and Beth saw something in his eyes that she hadn't seen in someone for a very long time. Surprisingly, she didn't feel the urge to cover herself or turn away. But she did feel her cheeks growing even hotter than they already were.

Beth was determined to take charge this time. Not only had she relived the other night with Daryl in her head a hundred times over, but she'd also imagined about a thousand more things that she thought she might like to do to him. She knew he was probably far more experienced, but that wasn't going to stop her from surprising him. There were insurmountable amounts of pent-up sexual frustration inside her, and she was pretty sure she could see something similar inside Daryl – just waiting to be let out. _All_ of it.

Their mouths crashed together again and Daryl was placing one hand against her lower back while the other fumbled clumsily with her breasts, groping and massaging and tweaking her nipples randomly. She pressed herself against his warm body and felt his erection nudging against her tummy, twitching beneath the thin pants and boxers.

With a smile against his swollen lips, Beth pulled away and opened her eyes to watch his expression become quizzical for a second. She briefly glanced him up and down, then smiled mischievously. She reached over and turned on the bedside lamp that was sitting feet away from them on the nightstand.

The sudden light seemed to flood the room, but once their eyes became adjusted, Beth realized it gave the room a soft, warm glow. And it certainly gave her a better view than the nightlight had. She looked Daryl up and down again, still smiling, then leaned in to kiss him.

She wasn't sure where this sudden boost of courage had come from, or why she felt a strong and unfamiliar urge to rake her nails and lips across every inch of Daryl she could reach. In the back of her head, in a small percentage of her brain that was still functioning on a logical level, she knew that she was giving into purely lustful emotions and carnal desires, and at this point, it was practically a last-ditch effort at one more carefree night before she was forced to face reality tomorrow.

But for now, she could be lost in the smell of Daryl's skin and the sound of his animalistic growls and groans. So why not go all out and see if she could elicit the same reactions from him that he was able to get from her?

He didn't lean away from her, but he only kissed her back for a couple of seconds, quizzical expression still on his face. Then he broke away to ask quietly, "Why'd ya do that?"

Beth shrugged, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning in to plant small kisses just below his ear. She whispered back, "'Cause I wanna see if it feels the same in the light…"

This seemed to suffice as an answer – or maybe she was just kissing the right spot on his neck – because he growled and closed his eyes, and she felt his dick twitching against her tummy again. She wasn't lying, though. A part of her wanted to see him well-lit for the pleasure of it, while a larger part wanted to find out if he was even capable of that level of vulnerability just yet… Or if _she_ was.

His fingers dug into the skin of her back, and while she was trailing kisses along his jawline, he began slipping one hand across her bare tummy and down, toward her panties. She pulled away just slightly and stopped kissing, waiting for him to open his eyes and look at her again.

When he did, she leaned in and pecked him on the lips, then whispered, "Your turn."

He looked confused again, but she didn't wait for him to question it. Before he could figure out what she was doing, Beth had taken a step back and crouched down, resting on her knees on the floor. She slipped her fingers between Daryl's skin and the waistbands of both his boxers and pajama pants, then quickly pulled them down until they fell and pooled around his ankles.

On her way down, Beth's eyes glanced across the scar she'd thought she'd felt the last time – and in the light from the lamp, it was white and faded like hers, but didn't look as recent. She diverted her eyes away from it.

He started, voice almost panicked, "What're you – "

But the rest of the sentence was suddenly forgotten when Beth grabbed the shaft of his hard, twitching cock and carefully wrapped her lips around the glistening head. His words broke off and all Beth could hear was a deep groan and a shuddering breath. Once she had her lips around it and began taking the length inside her warm mouth, he was reaching out desperately for something to hold onto. He wound up wrapping his fingers up in Beth's hair with one hand and leaning the other against the bedside table, seeing as his legs were becoming unusually shaky. She could feel him holding back from pushing down on her head, and his breathing was growing heavier and shakier with every inch of throbbing flesh that she took into her mouth.

His cock was salty with precome but she could feel it twitching in her mouth and against her tongue, and she moved slowly, reveling in the way his fingers dug into her scalp and _all_ his muscles tensed. He didn't smell like leather and whiskey and stale cigarettes like she might've expected, but rather like soap and a hint of that scent he always wore and maybe something that resembled shaving cream. She kept one hand wrapped lightly around the base of his shaft while the other held onto his upper thigh for support. As she slid her mouth down slowly, slowly, slowly… until she was sucking on the head lightly, and she heard a long, deep sigh coming from his mouth.

He tried to form a sentence with shaky words, "Y-you don't – have ta…"

She smiled softly and opened her eyes to glance up and find hooded, dark blue eyes staring down at her from behind a parted curtain of shaggy, dark hair. He was biting down on his bottom lip and watching her with a look on his face like he was seeing something he'd only ever imagined in his darkest fantasies. Or maybe she was just reading way too deeply into it.

But then she was speeding up her pace and taking his thick length into her mouth again, until she could feel precome dripping down the back of her tongue, and he was groaning through clenched teeth. She could hear him trying to contain himself, trying to keep his groaning to a minimum, but then she hummed lightly from the back of her throat and wrapped her tongue around his shaft and he was _gripping_ her head and letting out a guttural moan. His hips instinctually bucked upward, and the tip of his cock pressed against the back of her throat, bringing another moan from the bottom of his own throat. She gagged a little but regained herself, watching as his eyes shut tightly and his head tilted back in ecstasy.

Daryl gasped out partial sentences and Beth could hear the desperate need in his voice, "Fu- _u-uck_ … that feels – _shit_ , if yer not careful, yer gonna make me…"

Beth sped up a little, letting his hand gently guide her head up and down as she took his cock in her mouth and sucked lightly, occasionally gliding the very edges of her teeth against his throbbing flesh just to feel the way he would push harder on her head and to hear the deep, throaty sound he would make. He was biting down on his lip now and she had shut her eyes, but she could feel him glancing down at her every few seconds.

She flicked her tongue out and teased the tip of his cock, then slid her hand from his thigh over to gently grasp his balls in the palm of her hand. His hips bucked lightly again, and then she was licking up more precome and eliciting a deep growl from his throat. She could hear the restrained moans in his voice.

His cock throbbed against the roof of her mouth and she traced circles around the head with her tongue each time her mouth slid down that direction. His building climax was practically tangible. Meanwhile, the tightness had grown to a deep ache between Beth's legs and in the very bottom of her gut, and she could feel her own arousal beginning to drip down her inner thigh. She couldn't help but notice that he had a recently trimmed appearance and feel to his pubic area, which had felt much hairier and coarser the last time they'd had sex.

"Oh, _god_ , ya gotta stop, I'm g-gonna come," Daryl gasped out, and she opened her eyes to look up and see him staring down at her pleadingly, bottom lip indented with teeth marks.

Beth had already planned on stopping soon, but she decided to tease him a bit more by sliding her mouth back down the entirety of his length _very_ slowly, letting her tongue make a trail all the way to the head while she massaged his balls with feather-light touches. He moaned through clenched teeth and tried to stifle himself, and Beth felt his cock twitch against her lips just as she was pulling her mouth away. She briefly flicked her tongue out to lap up the last bit of precome that had emerged from the tip just before pulling her head away entirely, and he let out a heavy, shaky breath. His abdomen was still tensed up and flexing.

She glanced over and saw that his knuckles were white from holding onto the nightstand for support. But she barely had time to stand up from her knees and look at Daryl again before he was grabbing her by the hips and lifting her up effortlessly, tossing her lightly onto the bed directly behind them. He freed himself from his pants that were pooled around his ankles with two quick steps forward.

Beth landed on her back and looked up at him with a mischievous smile, the animalistic lust apparent on his face as he wasted no time yanking her panties down her legs and tossing them aside. He practically jumped on top of her, licking his lips hungrily as he spread her legs apart and positioned himself between them. And then his cock was twitching eagerly at her dripping wet entrance.

He restrained himself and leaned down to kiss her ravenously, quietly moaning into her mouth as the head of his cock brushed against her wetness and she _knew_ he'd felt it. She wrapped her legs around his upper thighs and her arms around his torso until her fingers were digging into his back again. His muscles tensed and she could feel the way he was holding back from shoving himself inside her all at once.

They broke apart briefly and simultaneously lifted their lids to look at each other with glazed, lust-filled eyes, both breathing heavier than usual. Daryl was already forming tiny beads of perspiration on his forehead.

He breathed out, "Is it – "

But Beth smiled and nodded and pressed her lips to his again to swallow the rest of his words, and then their tongues were tangling together again and their teeth were occasionally clicking together. She slid her hands down to dig her fingers into his asscheeks and pull him towards her. Her legs wrapped tighter around his thighs, almost possessively.

When she found him hesitating, teasing her with the head of his hard cock, she pulled her lips away just enough to whisper out, " _Please_ fuck me."

Then he was pressing his mouth roughly against hers again, taking in a sharp breath as he carefully slid the head of his cock inside her. She gasped against his lips and kissed him hungrily again, and once she wrapped her legs higher around his thighs and allowed for better access, he finally let loose and shoved himself deeply inside her.

Beth gasped again, and he moaned into her kiss, biting down softly on her lower lip while his hips bucked forward and he slid his hard, thick cock inside her soaking pussy until he was completely engulfed in her. She clenched around him and then relaxed and let out a shuddering breath. The sensation shot from between her legs, up, and up, and all throughout her body.

Her fingernails dug into Daryl's back and he growled in his throat. Beth let out a small squeal at the way his animal-like sound combined with the feeling of his cock filling her up sent lightning blazing around in her chest. She could already feel that bubble building up somewhere below the pit of her stomach, begging to be popped and relieved of its pressure.

He didn't wait to build a rhythm and begin steadily pounding into Beth, making her grateful for the surprisingly non-squeaky bed they were on. Their skin slapped together and echoed off the walls, but all she cared about was listening to the guttural growls and heavy breathing coming from Daryl. They broke their mouths apart to gasp for breath, but he continued to thrust into her, lifting his eyelids lazily to gaze down at her.

She bit down on her lower lip and looked up at him, breathing heavily and occasionally letting out a small moan or squeal when he hit one of the many spots he'd discovered inside her. She saw his eyes studying her, glancing at her lips, then down. He propped himself up until he could be on his knees, pausing every few seconds to keep himself from climaxing. She reached out to hold onto his knees, but couldn't quite reach and let her fingers grasp the sheets below her instead.

Beth grinned when she saw him grimacing and shutting his eyes, and she pulled him in closer with her legs and bucked her hips up into him just for the pure _torture_ of it. This brought a deep groan of frustration from his throat. He grabbed her thighs and dug his fingers into the tender skin there, then opened his eyes and gazed down at her.

A few strands of Daryl's hair were damp with sweat and hung over his glazed eyes, and the way he looked at her made her wet all over again. Just in time for him to thrust inside her again, too, and with ravenous intent. He scrunched his eyes shut again and moaned, struggling to quiet himself. When he opened them, he was staring down at her with that same gaze that made all the muscles in her pelvic region tighten up.

" _Jesus_ – yer so fuckin'… _perfect_ ," he growled, his mouth taking a few seconds to catch up to his brain as he refused to tear his eyes away from her.

She almost wanted to laugh, but in the moment, his words only sent more shivers up and down her spine, and that bubble in her abdomen was growing larger and tighter. She bucked up into him again and he pursed his lips shut to hold in a loud groan.

To her surprise, Daryl pulled back and slipped out of her, and a whine of disagreement began to form in her throat until she realized he was grabbing her by the hips again and flipping her over, guiding her body to a doggy-style position. She followed without hesitation and within seconds, he was positioned behind her with his hands grasping onto her hips for leverage. Then he slowly entered her again, and she shuddered with pleasure.

" _Ohh_ , my god," she moaned, trying to do so quietly but unsure of just how loud it had come out. Her hands grasped at the sheets beneath her and she leaned her head down and shut her eyes tightly, leaning back into him and focusing on the growing pressure inside her. With every thrust, her body was begging for more, more, _harder_.

She could've sworn Daryl could read her body like a book because his rhythm sped up and his thrusts grew harder and more intense, fingertips digging into her hips while the slapping of their skin bounced off the walls of the small bedroom. She could still hear him breathing and grunting over it, though.

Just as she felt the edge approaching, he let go of one of her hips and reached around to place his palm flat against her chest, just between her breasts. Then he swiftly leaned forward and pulled her back against him until she was sitting up-right on her knees, his cock still shoved deep up inside her tight walls. He slipped his hand over to grasp one breast and knead it between his fingers, sliding his other hand down from her hip to her swollen, pulsating clit.

Now her back was pressed against his front and her hips were arched to keep him inside her while his chin rested in the crook of her neck and his facial hair tickled her cheek and neck. She could feel his hot breath on her skin and hear it in her ear, and combined with his fingers pressing down on her clit and rubbing vigorously, it sent her flying toward the edge of her climax at warp speed. He continued his rhythm, thrusting up inside of her and hitting an entirely new spot that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

Daryl was thick, muscular arms and a broad chest and torso pressed against the slight, petite frame that was Beth. His fingers were calloused and his facial hair was rough against her soft skin, but she reveled in his warmth and the way she could feel his sweat making their skin stick together. He practically enveloped her and she let herself sink back into him, hands grasping his upper thighs for support.

He massaged her clit in a circular motion, speeding up and slowing down over and over while he continued to thrust up into her. Each time her involuntary squeals of pleasure grew higher, he'd angle himself and thrust into the same spot with even more enthusiasm, and before she knew it, Beth was biting her lip and clenching her teeth and trying as hard as she could to hold back the loud moans that were threatening to escape her throat.

She felt Daryl's lips on her neck and took in a shaky breath, holding back another moan when he thrust up into her once more before grazing his teeth along the sensitive skin. His fingers didn't stop rubbing her clit, and the pressure was building inside her so rapidly, she thought she might _actually_ combust when the climax finally arrived.

His fingers massaged her breast again while the others continued their work amongst her patch of blonde curls, and he planted another soft kiss just below her ear before whispering out, voice husky with lust, "Lights on was a good idea… but I almost came jus' seein' yer _mouth_ 'round my _cock_ …"

Beth's breath caught in her throat at his words and she felt a surge of pleasure rush through her, starting at where his throbbing cock was clenched between her walls and rapidly making its way upward. She couldn't remember ever being so turned on by someone's words during sex, but she wasn't questioning it at the moment. She wasn't questioning _anything_. She let out a small squeal of pleasure and he took it as a cue to thrust up into her harder again, and then she knew that it would only be one or two more pricks before the bubble would be popping.

"Oh, _fuck_ , Daryl, I'm – I'm gonna – "

He breathed into her ear and nibbled lightly on her earlobe, giving another meaningful thrust. Then he growled, "What… yer gonna _what_?"

He bucked his hips up into her again and she gasped, " _Come_ – I'm gonna…!"

But she didn't finish her sentence because her voice suddenly stopped working and all she could feel was the pressure mounting its peak and Daryl's hot skin pressed against hers. All she could hear was his voice growling in her ear.

"C'mon – _prove_ _it_."

Daryl gave another rough thrust into her and then Beth was frozen, all her muscles clenching up and her mind going completely blank for the briefest flash of a second as she tumbled over the edge and that _fucking_ _bubble_ finally popped. The pressure was released – and it was coursing through every muscle in her body, eliciting a tight-lipped groan of ecstasy from her throat as she focused on nothing but Daryl's throbbing cock inside her and his teeth softly biting into the tender skin of her neck. He didn't stop, continuing to thrust into her as the orgasm wracked through her whole body and his teeth on her skin sent conflicting waves of pleasure vibrating down to her pulsating clit.

"Oh, yeah, _there_ ya go," he groaned into her ear again, just loud enough that she could hear him over her own breathing. " _Fuck_ , I can _feel_ it – come all over my dick, jus' like that…"

Beth was biting down on her lip hard to keep herself quiet, but Daryl didn't slow his movements or his fingers on her clit and breast. He pinched her nipple between two fingers and then, as her orgasm faded and all the blurry edges started to clear up, she could feel his cock throbbing and twitching inside her.

He was sliding in and out easily, both of them slick with each other's bodily fluids, and she heard his breath hitch in his chest. Then he groaned against pursed lips, sending chills down her whole left side when she heard the sound right next to her ear and on her neck.

"Oh, my – I-I don't think I've _ever_ come like that before," Beth panted in a whisper, fingers digging into the flesh of Daryl's thighs.

"Jesus – _fuck_ ," he grunted again, and she hadn't realized her words would have such an affect on him. He thrust into her with more force, and then he was releasing her clit and nipple from his fingers and grasping at her hips to hastily pull himself out.

Her muscles had relaxed substanstially and she felt him slip his cock out before reaching one hand down to stroke himself, and he groaned quietly as he shuddered against her body. She could feel his wet cock still between her thighs, and his fingers wrapped around himself and stroking for just a second before he let out a louder groan and flinched forward, leaning his head into the crook of her neck while her hands grasped his thighs. She felt and listened to his climax surging through him, and he couldn't stop himself from squirting a bit of the thick, pearly substance onto her inner thigh, though most of it pooled on the bed between their legs.

Then he was panting and relaxing against her, and she could tell that they were both equally spent and sweaty. But he released her hip from the grasp of his other hand and slid it up to cup her small, pert breast again. She winced a bit, just now realizing how sore they were – though not from Daryl's hands. However, the pain quickly left her mind, and so did all the worries that would surely be returning to haunt her head.

She felt his soft lips kissing her neck again, and he continued to hold her against him despite their shaky legs. She didn't try to move away. Even though they were both sweating, the feeling of his warm body pressed close against hers was still relaxing to _all_ of her muscles.

After a moment of silence, during which they were both catching their breath and resting against each other, Beth whispered out with a small smile of satisfaction on her face, "Guess I was right…"

Daryl's lips grazed her neck again and sent goosebumps down her arm. He left his head lazily resting against her and asked, "'Bout what? The lights?"

She nodded and craned her head around to look at him, finding his face flushed and his hair even more damp than it had been before they'd switched positions. "Yep."

He raised his eyebrows, exhaustion in his eyes, and asked, "So – what? Does it feel the same, or…?"

She continued smiling, then pecked his lips lightly and continued gazing into his eyes. "No, not at all… it's _way_ better."

He grunted in approval, but she thought it might've been a chuckle if he hadn't been so drained.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Chapter 27 WILL be posted on May 4th. It's a little short so chapter 28 will be posted just a couple of days after that ;)  
THANK YOU to everyone who has been reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing. And if you're lurking: just leave me a little review and tell me that you're enjoying the story! I love hearing feedback, and I can never tell if getting a lot of hits but only a few reviews is a good thing, or if people are beginning the story and then hating it and walking away from it lol so let me know EVEN if you hate it!  
Anyway, hope that scene was okay. Things are gonna start getting a little dark after next chapter, so enjoy the fluff while you can ;)  
Chapter title is taken from the song "If I Cut My Hair, Hawaii Will Sink" by Chiodos (the entire song is about sex lmao)


	27. i'm falling for your eyes, but they don'

_**i'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet**_

Daryl apologized sheepishly for the mess on Beth's bed and promptly gathered her clothes together for her before slipping on his own and heading out to the hallway to fetch a fresh set of sheets. She assured him it was fine but he insisted on pulling off the old bedding and putting on the new by himself, and wouldn't allow her to help when she tried. She chuckled and shrugged, then went to the bathroom while he made her bed.

When she returned, she realized the room reeked of sex. She found Daryl smoothing out a new, clean comforter and fluffing the pillows inside their new pillowcases. She approached him from behind and slowly wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning against his back and planting a few soft kisses there. She saw the long, red scars before she saw the faded, black tattoos. She bit back her curious questions, though, and acted like she either didn't see them or didn't care. Though it wasn't that much of an act – his scars were his own business, and she wasn't about to ruin this blissful evening with something stupid like that.

Surprisingly, when he finished with the bed, he leaned back into her embrace for a peaceful moment. Then he took her hands in his and pulled them away from his skin, turning around to face her and still holding her hands in his. She looked up at him with a content smile on her face and she saw the exhaustion in his eyes, but she also saw something else that looked like questions or hesitation.

He glanced over at the nightstand and she followed his gaze to see the pocket watch sitting out. Her heart skipped and she realized she'd forgotten to take it out from beneath her pillow.

 _Thank God I put the gun and that photo away days ago_ , she thought.

"Found that under yer pillow," he grunted, looking down into her eyes. She could see him studying her.

She nodded and tried to appear as casual as possible. "Thanks, forgot I put it there."

Daryl furrowed his brow and parted his lips like he was going to ask about its origins, but then he must've decided against it. She thought maybe he'd decided not to ask for the same reason she'd decided to ignore the long scars all over his back.

"I gotta go check on the kid," he said quietly, and she caught him glancing down at her nipples peaking beneath her shirt for a brief second before he looked back at her eyes.

Beth was thankful he'd changed the subject. She could almost hear the watch ticking from where it sat.

Her smile faded and she nodded, beginning to pull her hands back. She knew it was selfish, but she couldn't help except to feel a bit disappointed, expecting him to find an excuse to run off to his bedroom for the rest of the night. "Oh – yeah. Okay."

But he didn't let go of her hands and he pulled her in closer as she attempted to take a step back. She looked up at him questioningly and he was studying her face, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I'll come back – if ya want," he grumbled, watching her eyes carefully.

She couldn't hold back the smirk that appeared on her face and she shrugged sheepishly. "'Course I want you to… but what about – "

He squeezed her hands and stopped her, "Lemme go check on him an' if he's still out cold, I'll come right back. He won't even notice I'm gone fer at least another couple hours."

Beth glanced at the clock on the nightstand and saw that it was nearly eleven. Odd, because it felt much later. Or maybe she was just tired at a reasonable time and it felt strange after the past couple of weeks.

She nodded and smiled again, watching Daryl rush out to the hall and off toward his bedroom. He was almost completely silent in his movements, and she sat down on the bed and strained her ears to listen for the familiar sound of Malachi's voice. But a minute passed and she heard nothing.

Beth grabbed the pocket watch from the nightstand and opened it briefly, checking that it still worked. She knew it did, though, because she could feel it ticking in her palm.

A taunting voice in the back of her head reminded her, _What would your daddy think of you right now? Maggie? Fooling around with an older man, getting all wrapped up in his life and his kid's life. Meanwhile, everyone you've ever loved is sitting behind bars, probably less than twelve hours from seeing a judge. Maggie told you to run, but you're planting seeds instead. Are you proud of yourself…?_

She opened the drawer of the nightstand and carefully set the watch down inside before shutting the drawer quietly. The voice in her head eventually got drowned out.

Beth pulled back the comforter and took her pajama pants off again, leaving them on the floor before she climbed into bed. Her eyelids grew heavy as soon as she'd scooted in and settled into the spot closest to the wall, breathing in the smell of clean laundry from the new sheets and comforter. She hadn't felt this relaxed in a while, especially not in this particular bed.

A few minutes later, she was fighting sleep. Luckily, Daryl appeared in the doorway and nodded at her, shutting the bedroom door all but a crack behind him. He stepped so lightly on the carpet that she could barely hear his footsteps, and when he reached the bed, she saw him place his phone on the nightstand. Then he turned off the bedside lamp before climbing into the empty spot Beth had left for him.

He smelled like the handsoap that sat on the bathroom sink and she guessed he'd taken a trip to the bathroom before returning, or Malachi had needed a midnight bathroom trip. He'd stripped off his shirt and pants again before slipping beneath the comforter, and when Beth stretched her arm out to lay it across him, she felt his warm, bare skin – he really _did_ run hot. She was beginning to realize he always radiated a lot of body heat.

Daryl lay down on his back and wrapped his right arm around Beth, and she scooted in closer against him until she was curled into the crook of his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. She sighed, almost in relief. He tensed up at first and she wondered for a second if she made him feel as nervous as he sometimes made her feel, but then he relaxed. She felt his fingertips begin to absent-mindedly trace shapes on her arm and her side just above where the comforter covered them, sending chills down her leg. She smiled and let her eyes drift shut.

"Gotta get up 'fore the kid. I set an alarm but I'll try not ta wake ya," he whispered softly, and she felt him pressing his nose and lips against the top of her forehead, leaving a light kiss there.

Beth nodded against his shoulder, eyes still shut. She couldn't seem to find the energy to open them. "Mm'kay…"

He planted another kiss on her forehead and she brushed her fingertips across his bare belly, feeling his muscles tense briefly beneath her touch. When she let her hand come to a rest again, she realized her fingers were resting over the thickened line of skin just above his left hip bone. She could just barely feel the tiny dots of thick skin on either side of it, from where there had been stitches. He shivered as she traced the scar up and down with the very tip of her index finger.

"You gonna ask…?" He whispered out gruffly once his shivers had left.

She shrugged lightly against him and continued tracing the shape of the scar with her fingertip. "Figured you'd tell me if you wanted to…"

He grunted quietly but his fingers didn't stop running up and down her arm and side. His voice was heavy with sleep. "Ain't nothin' cool… Jus' a reminder."

Beth kept her fingers moving slightly, but the last of her energy was draining. Daryl's words, however, grasped her attention.

"What d'you gotta remember?"

Without hesitation, he mumbled, "Not t'be the waste a space, asshole redneck that I was back in Georgia."

In her sleepy, comfortable state, Beth impulsively asked, "An' the ones on yer back?"

She finally lifted her eyelids, realizing what she'd asked. She should've thought about her words more carefully. Now Daryl had paused, and she held her breath waiting for him to either tell her to mind her business or just give her the cold shoulder.

But he did neither of those things.

After a short pause, he replied quietly, his voice a bit more tentative, "Only thing my ol' man left me that ever did me any good… Those're my reminders of how ta be a dad."

"Oh," she breathed out, fingers pausing and settling over his hip scar. She covered it with her palm and asked, "So who did this one?"

A smooth transition, even in her after-sex haze.

Daryl grunted like he might laugh and explained briefly, "Some asshole my brother knew… Got me inta some shit with another tweaker, I took a blade fer his ass an' he ditched me there. He was already high as hell. Knew he was gettin' outta control after our ol' man died, but that… it took a knife in my gut ta really wake me the hell up."

Beth furrowed her brow, listening intently. He spoke about it like it was a distant memory that no longer affected him – almost like the way she thought of herself sometimes, and some of the things she'd witnessed. And done.

She'd never been stabbed, though. "Wow… how long ago was that?"

She felt him shrug lightly beneath her and he grunted like it was an uninteresting topic. "Way 'fore Mal. Before I met his mom… Day I got outta the hospital, I packed my shit an' took every dollar I ever saved. Hauled ass here. Never looked back."

Beth made a sound from her throat like, "Hmm." She wasn't sure what to say to that. It certainly intrigued her, and she was mentally slipping another tiny piece into place on her Daryl Dixon jigsaw puzzle. But she didn't want to say that it made sense, because it certainly wasn't what she'd expected.

Yet somehow it made her feel a little closer to him. Not just because he was sharing it with her, but because she saw something familiar in him and the kindred part inside her was reaching out to it. Whether she wanted it to or not.

 _And then you met her,_ she thought. She didn't speak it this time.

"You didn't know… _anyone_?" Beth asked softly. Her eyelids were falling shut again.

"Jus' Dwight," Daryl mumbled. His words were slow and lazy and he yawned between sentences. "Got me a job an' put me up till I found a place. He moved out here with his woman 'bout a year 'fore I did… Shit, shoulda listened to him the first five times he offered me ta get outta Georgia. Woulda saved me a helluva lotta medical bills."

Beth smirked and let her eyes close, his voice soothing to her ears.

 _So Dwight_ _ **is**_ _more than just his work buddy... I guess that makes more sense,_ she thought. _Just one more Georgia native to avoid, though. If I ever have to avoid him._

She could feel the vibration his voice was making in his chest combined with his heartbeat. She tried to picture a younger Daryl: the one without Malachi, before Lucy or Carol or New York City. What had he been like? Would they have even spoken to each other if they'd met back home?

He yawned and tightened his arm around her, pulling her in closer and resting his hand on her hip. "I know yers is a lot newer, so I wasn't gonna ask ya…"

Beth opened her eyes lazily and blinked, confused for a second. Then she realized he was talking about her own little reminder, the one on the inside of her wrist.

"Tried t'take the easy way out," she mumbled sleepily. The words came out without much thought. Every day – every _moment_ – made her feel just a little more distant from the Beth that had slit her own wrist. And right now, fighting sleep, the line was blurrier than ever.

He grunted, and she interpreted it as a noise of understanding.

"I was… weak then," she added, pressing the tips of her fingernails into the skin of Daryl's hip absent-mindedly. "Young an' _stupid_."

A bit of an exaggeration, but the last year _had_ felt more like five years.

"Maybe not," he mumbled. "Seem pretty strong t'me."

She chuckled weakly but didn't open her eyes. "Right… maybe now."

"So it made ya who ya are," he said. "Wouldn't've become strong without bein' weak before… whatever happened. Everythin' that happened."

Beth saw the farm in the blacks of her eyelids for a split-second. Then she said the first thought that came to mind after his words, "I became strong _despite_ everything that happened."

She heard him swallow and felt his muscles tense briefly beneath her. Then he lifted his hand from her hip and gently turned her wrist over, tracing the raised skin with his fingertip before placing his palm over it. He reached his left hand over and carefully took two of her fingers, then guided them to the top of his right hand and let her feel the skin there. He returned his left hand to his side and didn't try to pull away his blemished right hand as she gently touched it.

She was confused at first, until she felt the small patches of raised skin – all in almost perfect circles. She recognized the texture, she'd had a classmate who'd had those marks all over her arms in sophomore year. They were old, scarred cigarette burns. Self-inflicted.

He mumbled softly, "Same here."

Beth ran her fingertips across the small, rough circles again before she slipped her fingers between his and interlaced them together. She squeezed his hand and let them rest, clasped together, on her hip.

"Guess our fresh wounds are physical, too," she whispered.

Knowing that he'd felt that pain – that endless, hopeless, bottomless, absolutely _dismal_ abyss that had threatened to swallow her whole – sent a deep ache through her chest, and she couldn't really explain why. What had he done to deserve that feeling? She had a list of reasons for herself, but what could he have possibly done before NYC that was so bad? If he was the kind of guy who'd take a knife for his brother – and he was – then why had he felt like he didn't have anything to live for? And why had God let him feel that? Wasn't the abusive father and dead mother enough of a punishment for _anything_?

Yet another to add to the long list of things Beth thought she may _never_ understand in a lifetime.

"She used ta like poetry – had this one line she really loved from some book she used ta have," Daryl mumbled softly as he squeezed Beth's hand again, and she realized he was talking about Lucy. "… _'The wound is the place where the Light enters you.'_ "

Beth smiled softly in the dark despite the fading ache in her chest and whispered back, "That's beautiful."

 _How did she go from that to lying cold in a motel room?_ Beth secretly wondered. But it only crossed her mind for a split-second. Her brain was tired from overthinking. It was starting to give up.

Daryl cleared his throat and wiggled in his spot a bit, stretching his legs out beneath the covers. She placed her right leg over his and rested her foot between his shins. Then she squeezed his hand.

When a full minute passed without a sound from either of them, Beth could feel that she was about to drift off. She summoned the last bits of her energy to mumble out quietly, "Wake me up… 'fore you leave…"

She wasn't even sure that he hadn't already fallen asleep. But then he made a quiet "mm-hmm" from his throat and turned his head to press his lips to the top of her forehead again, and she heard him take in a deep breath. Then his arm relaxed and his hand loosened around hers.

Sleep had captured Daryl suddenly, and Beth fell under its spell moments later.

* * *

Beth felt like she'd only been asleep for a few minutes, maybe ten at most. She'd had no dreams, and when she drifted into consciousness, she was confused and foggy for longer than usual. But that was probably due to the way she woke up.

" _Ro-o-osie_ … hey, Rosie… _Jeez_ , ya sleep like a rock – _hey_ , _psst_ ," Daryl was whispering near her ear, nudging her arm ever so lightly.

Beth lifted her eyelids despite the heavy weights that were fighting to pull them back down. She blinked rapidly and glanced around, toward the clock first. The numbers were foggy and she kept blinking until she could see that it read 4:45. Her vision slowly cleared.

She'd thought the whispering voice was a remnant of a dream until she heard it again and nearly jumped out of her skin. Then the memory of the night before finally sunk in and she turned her head to see Daryl hovering over her, propped up by his hands on the bed on either side of her. The bedroom was still just as dark as it had been when she'd fallen asleep, and the apartment was still silent.

"Mornin'," Daryl whispered, and she could barely make out his eyes staring at her in the dark. It looked like he was smirking and wide awake.

"What – you gettin' up already?" Beth asked quietly, her voice coming out a bit husky from sleep.

"Yeah. Kid wakes up 'bout five," he replied.

"Oh," was all she could think to say. Her brain was still foggy and she was fighting the urge to fall back to sleep.

"But I'll see ya tonight," he whispered. "Right?"

She smiled drowsily and nodded against the pillow, yawning. "Yep – whether you want to or not."

Her eyes were growing more accustomed to the dark room and she could see him more clearly, and he was definitely smirking. She wondered if he'd even slept because he seemed to be wide awake and energetic.

"Well… I want to," Daryl mumbled, and then he was leaning in closer until their faces were inches apart and she could smell the toothpaste on his breath. Again, Beth wondered how long he'd been awake.

She gave him another sleepy smile before closing the distance between them and pressing her lips to his. This seemed to be what he was hoping for because he kissed back eagerly and deepened it within seconds.

Suddenly, Beth's brain was very much awake. Their kiss escalated rapidly and Daryl's tongue was exploring her mouth in no time while she had closed her eyes with no worries of drifting off to sleep. She reached a hand up and grasped the side of his neck gently, pulling his head in closer. The ends of his shaggy hair tickled her fingers and the tops of her hands, and his neck was radiating heat as usual, just like the rest of his body.

He broke the kiss briefly and they opened their eyes to stare at each other, exchanging identical expressions. His breathing had already sped up, just like his pulse against her palm.

"Somethin' else I _really_ wanna do, too," he growled, eyes darting between her eyes and her lips. He looked like he was already performing unspeakable acts inside his head.

The spot between her legs tingled and pulsed and she teased the back of his neck with her fingernails. "Well…"

She watched him glance at the clock on the nightstand and then back at her, momentarily biting his lip in contemplation. "I guess – jus' real quick, we could…"

Beth smirked and wiggled her eyebrows playfully. He smirked back and she could see him holding back laughter.

"What're you waitin' for?" She whispered out, and pulled him back in to kiss her. This time, she nibbled down on his lower lip and heard the faint beginnings of a growl starting in his throat.

He wasted no time pulling the comforter down and off her body, which destroyed the only real barrier between them. He had already been hovering above her, with his hands and knees on either side of her while his head bent down to kiss her. Now that she was lying beneath him in nothing but a thin shirt and some panties, and he was still in nothing more than his boxers, he pulled his lips away and immediately began trailing kisses down her neck, below her ears, and back down along her collarbones.

Beth was too tired to do anything but lie there and wrap her arms around his neck, eyes closed while he kissed every inch of her neck and parts of her shoulders and chest. Then he returned to her lips for a deep, lingering kiss while one hand slipped her panties down and off her legs. She followed his movements and allowed herself to get lost in his smell, his taste, the way his calloused fingers felt as they left feather-light touches all over her exposed skin.

And then he had slipped out of her arms and moved down to position himself between her thighs, his face level with the patch of blonde curls and her quickly moistening entrance. Her heart was racing and she watched with baited breath as he glanced up and made eye contact with her, then grabbed her thighs and gently held them apart while he slowly lowered his head toward her damp warmth.

She'd wanted to watch him, wanted to feel that carnal pleasure that came from seeing his face between her legs and his mouth working on the most sensitive parts of her body. But as soon as his lips made contact with her swollen clit and he began gently sucking and circling his tongue around it, her eyes slammed shut and her head tilted back into the pillow. She bit down on her lower lip and held back a loud moan. It escaped as a low growl from her throat.

Daryl hummed against her clit and she writhed, bucking her hips upward into him. He tightened his grip on her thighs and held her steady while his tongue made its way down through her folds and to her entrance, which was already soaking wet. The pressure in that spot below her abdomen was building fast, and she writhed beneath his hands while his tongue explored and teased.

He lapped up her wetness and teased her pussy, then slid his tongue back up to her clit to resume licking, circling, and sucking. When she continued to writhe beneath him, her breath coming shorter and faster and with more desperation, he sped up his tongue movements and grazed her pulsing clit with his teeth. This time, a moan escaped her throat before she could even think about stopping it.

"Oh – _fuck_ ," she gasped, opening her eyes and glancing down to meet Daryl's intense gaze. His eyes were barely open and hazy with lust, and he smiled against her dripping cunt.

She bucked up against him again, unable to hold herself back. After a few more seconds of heavy panting and teasing a trail back-and-forth between her clit and her waiting entrance, he pulled his face away and she watched him lick his lips while he stared into her eyes. A jolt of electricity shot through her and the pressure mounted somewhere in her pelvic area.

Before she could beg or plead for him to touch her again, he had yanked his boxers off and positioned himself on his knees between her legs. His hands gripped her thighs and he pulled her in closer, then leaned down over her and placed his hands on either side of her head to steady himself while he hovered above her. His cock pressed against her pussy, millimeters short of sliding inside effortlessly, and he let out a small groan when he felt her wetness on the head of his rock-hard erection.

"Oh, god, _yes_ ," Beth gasped desperately, arms wrapped around him and nails digging into his back. "Do it, _please_ – "

She gasped back the rest of her words and let out a small squeal of pleasure – and surprise – when she felt his thick, throbbing cock slip easily inside her, and with one swift motion, Daryl had thrust himself up inside her until her tight pussy had engulfed every inch. He pressed against her slick walls, stretching her, wordlessly locating the most sensitive spot and hitting against it at just the right angle. He seemed to already be memorizing her body, which was something she wasn't used to.

She could feel him pulsating and twitching inside her, and the head of his cock had been dripping with precome when it found its way to her wet warmth. He grunted with each thrust as he built up a steady rhythm, and her nails dug harder into his back. He seemed to like it, though, because every time he hit _that_ spot, she'd gasp loudly and involuntarily dig her nails in, and then he would immediately growl from his throat and thrust into her harder.

Panting, he whispered out in a deep, husky groan, " _Fuck_ , girl, you – "

But his words were cut off when Beth bucked her hips up into him, urging him deeper inside, and the breath seemed to be snatched right from his throat. He leaned his head down and hungrily kissed her, both of them breathing heavily against the other's lips as Daryl pounded into her, unyielding. His arms were beginning to shake from holding himself up and gripping the bedsheets so tightly, but he didn't seem to care in the slightest.

Their lips hovered, barely touching, and Beth opened her eyes to see Daryl staring at her with the same hooded gaze he'd had when he was face-deep between her thighs. It sent a chill down through her body and she gasped again as he slowed his pace just the slightest and sent entirely new waves of sensation rushing up to her chest.

She couldn't remember _ever_ having the feeling that she was having right now – like he was staring straight into her soul. And she was staring back at his. It sparked another kind of pleasure somewhere deep in her muscles. Something that she wasn't sure even had a name.

She could feel his hot breath against her lips, and she let her face express just how much she was enjoying his cock inside her. He watched her carefully, stared deep into her eyes. She could see the words hanging off the tip of his tongue as he continued his slow, steady thrusts.

" _Christ_ , yer beautiful," he whispered out, and even though he was breathing heavily and occasionally grunting in pleasure, she could see the honesty in his eyes, could hear it in his tone. She could feel it in his body.

Beth smiled, mouth still agape as Daryl repeatedly hit that spot with his cock, and instead of trying to gasp out a reply, she pressed her lips to his again. But she didn't kiss him greedily or desperately – just passionately. Deeply. And with meaning.

A few more hard, shaky thrusts and he was pulling his mouth back again, trying to catch his breath. Beth bit her lip and swallowed back a moan as the pressure mounted inside her. Her fingers weren't letting up on his skin.

She started, "I'm gonna – "

This must've been the signal for double-time to Daryl, because before she could finish the thought, he'd reared back slowly before shoving inside her, arching his back and thrusting into the spot that had made her gasp for breath. Her words disappeared and she shut her eyes tightly as the pressure finally reached its tipping point and exploded inside her.

"Oh – _god_ …!" She squealed, a bit louder than she'd intended. It had proved to be much more difficult to stay quiet than she'd thought.

But she wasn't thinking about anything except the waves of pleasure wracking her body and the blinking dots on the back of her eyelids. And Daryl's hard cock pulsating inside her, sliding in and out and pricking that same release button somewhere inside her over and over and _over_ until her legs were literally shaking and she didn't think there was anything left to be released.

"Shit – I'm gonna…"

Beth opened her eyes to see Daryl shutting his and gritting his teeth, getting one last, intentful thrust into her before pulling himself out quickly and reaching down with one hand to grab his twitching, squirting cock and aim it away from her entrance. He ended up turning away just enough to make it onto her upper thigh, but she didn't care because she was still surfing the aftershock waves of her orgasm. Seeing him finishing himself off onto her body was another one of those things that she'd always thought would be gross, but in this moment, it was probably one of the _sexiest_ things she'd ever witnessed… And it almost made her want to immediately go for round two.

She watched with pleasure as Daryl grabbed his own cock and gave it a few last strokes, the large muscles in his bicep tensing up and flexing while his head tilted back and a quiet moan of pleasure escaped his parted lips. His shaggy hair fell back and away from his face and Beth watched as the orgasm washed over him. She realized just how muscular he actually was when his whole body tensed up and she could see nearly every muscle in his abdomen, chest, and arms flexing for just a moment. It was enough to make her wet all over again. And she had a front-seat view with the best possible angle.

It was an image worth storing away in her mind for later. Possibly forever.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** The poem quote is taken from Rumi. Obviously I don't take any credit.  
I decided to post this chapter early just because I've been drinking wine and writing the next 2-3 chapters and I figured, why not. It's pretty much filler and fluff anyway, so there ya go. I hope you liked it nonetheless, I put very consistent effort into every single sentence of this fic, though. So if you notice any inconsistencies or inaccuracies while reading, please bring them to my attention :) As always, thanks to everyone who's been reading and/or reviewing! Next chapter will be posted on 5/6. And I promise, it won't be filler... or fluff.  
P.S.: Huuuuge shoutout to **GracieMae11** and **arrowsandangels** because they deserve most of the credit for me posting this chapter so early. Their reviews and enthusiasm for this fic helps keep up my own enthusiasm, and they inspire me all the time. Also, if you like Gleggie, go check out **arrowsandangels** 's new AU set in the 1950s called Step Out of Time.


	28. my legs are dangling off the edge

_**my legs are dangling off the edge**_

Daryl got up and gathered his clothes and phone together, then he left Beth with another long kiss before promising to see her that night. He offered to leave her some coffee or make a quick breakfast, but she declined. She was exhausted all over again and wanted nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep. Especially when, in the back of her head, she was dreading what the news would report about her family's court case. But even worse than the news, she dreaded having to get up and go out to the store later – and she didn't even want to _begin_ thinking about what came after that.

Daryl had shut her bedroom door when he left and she listened to the faint sounds of him and Malachi getting up and around for the day. She was thankful the toddler hadn't woken up and wandered into her bedroom in the middle of the night in search of his dad. It began to make her wonder if what they were doing was _actually_ okay… Surely it wouldn't feel this precarious if it were.

She rolled over and faced the wall, clutching the comforter tight around her shoulders while her eyes remained shut and she urged her brain to shut up. Her body was so tired, and she was drained in nearly every sense of the word. Plus, she felt exhausted just thinking about getting up later, bathing, dressing, and wandering out in public – alone, for the first time in a while. Yet she couldn't drift back off, and the bed suddenly felt oddly empty.

It was mind boggling to her, in a way. When she lay still and really thought about it: about where she was and who she had just shared the most intimate parts of herself with. And then, about what she'd left behind in Georgia, where her family was sitting right now… She didn't think about that last half when Daryl was next to her, or kissing her, or inside of her. Only when she was alone, or when she caught herself feeling _too_ happy or hopeful.

That was the other bit that boggled her mind: how safe she felt in those moments. The bedrooms had become like islands, and Beth and Daryl had seemed to be shut off in their own little world, away from everyone else and all the bullshit and all the ghosts that haunted them.

 _You barely even know this guy,_ that voice of reason reminded her.

But she challenged it, _Then why do I feel like I've somehow always known him?_

The exhaustion finally overtook her and her mind gave up the battle with itself. And she fell asleep to the sounds of Daryl and Malachi having breakfast in the kitchen, and the smell of brewing coffee. She didn't even hear them leave.

Beth woke up a few hours later feeling much more refreshed. The extra sleep had given her muscles the rest they'd needed after the strenuous exercise Daryl had given them. And to her pleasant surprise, the neausea seemed to be lying dormant today. Her stomach was even rumbling for a real breakfast, and she started thinking that she might make a whole pot of coffee for herself. She probably wouldn't drink it all, but the fact that coffee sounded really good again was an improvement.

For a second, she thought she might skip the pregnancy test altogether. But then the logical side of her remembered that at the very least, it would put her mind at ease. What if it came out negative? There was still a chance she could be wrong about being pregnant.

She had to know, though. And she couldn't push it off any longer.

When she wandered out into the living room and opened the window a crack, she found that the day was bright and sunny, and the autumn chill that had been in the air was undetectable right now. The humidity was no worse than usual, but the warm air that drifted inside felt like summer's lingering goodbye kiss.

She shut the window again and adjusted the thermostat on the wall to lower the temperature in the small apartment. Then she went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee before making herself a small breakfast that consisted of more than just bread, for a change. The apartment remained silent and settled the whole time, nothing but the sounds of the coffeemaker and her cooking to fill her ears. She was shamelessly daydreaming about the night before – and that morning – with Daryl. A small smile had creeped onto her face without her even realizing it.

She sat at the table with her new Bible, opened to one of her daddy's favorite books, and ate her breakfast in silence while she sipped the hot coffee and read. After finishing everything on her plate, as well as a whole cup of coffee, she remained at the table with her legs tucked beneath her on the chair. She continued to read while gauging her stomach's reaction and anxiously awaiting the arrival of her daily nausea. But she sat and read through an entire page without feeling anything other than satisfied.

Still smiling to herself, Beth gathered up her dishes and took them to the kitchen, where she went about washing all the dirty dishes in the kitchen. When she glanced across the remaining gingersnaps on Carol's plate, she scooped them up and put them in a small Tupperware container that she found in the cabinet, then added Carol's dish to the sink.

Beth didn't think to turn on any music today. Her head was already filled with all kinds of thoughts and daydreams and songs. Despite the further stress she was facing, she couldn't help but to feel like singing. In a way, it reminded her of better times. Or just more blissfully ignorant times. She'd always loved singing with Maggie and her momma in the kitchen while they prepared dinner or cleaned up after a meal. Sometimes, her daddy would stand just outside the back door and listen, thinking no one saw him there. But Beth always noticed him through the window over the sink. And she always saw the big, proud smile on his face.

Sometimes, it made Beth forget that they weren't a normal family.

While she scrubbed and rinsed dishes and set them in the dishrack, her hips swayed in a silent dance and she sang along to the music in her head, loud enough to replace the silence in the small apartment, " _It's unclear now what we intend, we're a-alone in our own world… A-and you don't wanna be my boyfriend, an' I don't wanna be your girl… And that… that's a re-e-lief… We'll drink up our grief, and pine for summer…_ "

It was a song she'd learned to play on both the piano and the guitar years ago. The lyrics were embedded in her memory, and as her voice flowed out smooth and melodically, she continued smiling to herself. Enjoying the peace while it was visiting. She could almost hear the piano playing in her head and feel the ivories beneath her fingers.

Beth finished the dishes and left the kitchen to head to the bathroom, still singing loudly without giving it any thought, repeating the song over and over. She ran herself a warm bubble bath and, while she waited for the tub to fill, poured herself another cup of coffee and sipped it contentedly. But she still didn't stop singing to herself, even as she stripped down and lowered herself into the water to wash away Daryl's lingering smell once again.

"… _A-and you will hurt me, or I'll disappear… So we'll drink beer all day, and our guards will give way… and we'll be good… yeah, we'll be goo-ood…_ "

* * *

Admittedly, Beth had avoided checking her phone because she didn't want to see what she knew she'd find. But once she was dressed and had her bag strapped to her back, prepared to leave and head to the nearest store, she knew she had no choice but to check the news.

Her hands began trembling slightly as she tapped the screen and navigated to the national sites. With baited breath, she scrolled through and searched for her name, or any sort of headline that could allude to her family's case. She let out a sigh of relief when she reached the same headlines from yesterday and found no mention of the Greene's. But her hands wouldn't still just yet as she moved on to the Georgia and Atlanta sites.

She hadn't realized she was holding her breath until it was let out and she was relaxing. Her fingers had shakily scrolled through both sites and scoured the headlines. But there were no posted updates on her family's case. At least not yet.

With a silent thanks to God, she pushed her worries about the trial out of her head for the time being and checked her text messages instead. There was a message from Irma that talked about how beautiful the midwest was at this time of the year and that she'd like to hear from "Rosie" to know that she's still doing okay. Beth didn't feel up to sending an optimistic text at the moment, so she made a mental note to reply later.

Her chest was a little lighter a few minutes later as she left the apartment with the bag on her back, her phone and a small wad of cash stuffed into the pockets of her jeans, and the sunglasses on her face. The gun-concealing undershirt was tight against her skin beneath the jacket and loose T-shirt she wore over it, and she wondered if it had shrunk since the last time she wore it. She'd even put in a pair of brown contacts just to be extra cautious. The color was fading from her hair with every wash and she'd made a mental note to pick up some better quality hair color while she was out.

The lobby was empty when Beth walked through it, and she assumed Clem was probably in class. She stepped out into the bright, afternoon sunlight and gripped the straps of her bag, turning and heading down the sidewalk with intent. She kept her head low and sunglasses on, glancing around only briefly to make sure she was going the right way.

She avoided the stores in the immediate vicinity, walking past at least ten different places that most likely sold pregnancy tests. A lot of them were chain retailers and she knew they'd have strict security monitoring. And even though it had been over two weeks without a hint of her story going national, she knew there was no time to start getting comfortable or careless. If Maggie had taught her anything, it was to _never_ let your guard down.

Because that's when they'd catch you – at your most vulnerable.

About eight blocks from the apartment, Beth settled on a corner store that looked fairly quiet. As she approached, she saw only a couple of people entering and leaving. And when she got close enough to see inside the windows, she could see that there were only a handful of customers inside and two employees behind the counter, both of which looked laid-back and distracted.

She entered the small store to find an interior that resembled nearly every other corner store she'd ever stepped foot inside. It was mostly quiet and the small space was cluttered with displays of merchandise and several aisles of products that ranged from automotive care to baby formula to toilet paper and canned goods. As she'd expected, and hoped, the employees behind the counter didn't even glance her way when the bell above the front door jingled at her arrival.

She discreetly searched the store with her eyes while wandering down an aisle and navigating her way to the cosmetics section first, but it looked like the only real cameras were posted at the counter to watch over the two cash registers. The other customers in the aisles appeared to be a few elderly people who most likely lived nearby and a younger couple shopping with a handbasket. None of them so much as glanced in Beth's direction, and as she passed through aisles, she kept her head low and her sunglasses on even though she felt mostly invisible.

The cosmetics section was limited, but there were a few brands of hair color and luckily, the store stocked a color that was even darker than the one she'd already used. She grabbed the box without a glance at the price and began finding her way toward the Family Planning section a couple of aisles away.

There was a small sign that read " _Family Planning_ " above a multi-shelf display of various pregnancy tests, ovulation tests, emergency contraceptives (like the one Daryl had brought home), and condoms. Surprisingly, this small store held several different brands of tests that she'd never even heard of. They all ranged in price from ten dollars to almost fourty. But Beth wasn't even glancing at the price tags. Staring at the names, the pictures, the smiling faces of women who knew they wanted babies… it was starting to make her chest feel tight and heavy.

Without another second of contemplation, she grabbed one box of each different brand of test. By the time she'd made her way to the end of the shelf, there were eleven boxes stuffed between the crook of her arm. She turned to start walking toward the counter, but stopped and turned back to the display. Hesitating, she stepped forward and peered a little closer. Then she reached out and snatched up a small box of condoms to add to the pile in her arms.

On her way up to the register, she passed by a cooler full of drinks and paused. With a glance down at the tests in her arms, she realized she'd need a lot of urine for all of them. So she reached out and grabbed the largest bottle apple juice on the shelf. For some reason, apple juice had always been a drink that would go right through her. Not even two cups of coffee forced her into the bathroom as often as a full glass of apple juice. When Beth was little and her momma was trying to break her of the bad habit of wetting the bed every night, Annette had to forbid her from having juice past four p.m.

There was an old man standing at the counter, taking his sweet time to write the world's longest check just to pay for five frozen dinners. There was only one cashier at the register, and it appeared the other employee had disappeared into the back. Beth shifted her weight from one foot to the other impatiently, staring at the gray back of the old man's head and urging him to write faster. She didn't want to spend another second in this store, especially with a dozen different pregnancy tests in her hands.

Finally, the old man was stepping away from the counter with his bag and Beth was approaching with her haul. She opened her arms and let the boxes pour out onto the countertop, then looked up through the dark sunglasses to see a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties. Her nametag read: _Dottie_. And when she looked down and saw what Beth was buying, her eyes widened.

"Uh-oh," Dottie commented, picking up one box at a time to scan it and toss it into a plastic bag. She gave a quizzical look at the box of hair color amongst the other purchases, but scanned it and tossed it into the bag with a brief shrug.

Beth gave a nervous chuckle but didn't say anything, feeling her cheeks growing hot. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the small wad of cash, getting prepared to pay.

"Well, at least you're optimistic," Dottie said quietly, a playful smirk on her face as she discreetly shoved the last box – the condoms – into the plastic bag and stared into Beth's sunglasses.

Beth shrugged and tried her best to sound casual. "Yeah… let's hope it's not for nothing."

Dottie gave Beth her total, and Beth handed over the money. Then she grabbed her change and receipt gratefully, thanked Dottie as she grabbed the plastic bag, and gave a brief wave goodbye before heading out the door.

Her legs couldn't carry her away fast enough.

She was thankful for the black plastic bag she'd been given, keeping her purchases discreet as she fast-walked down the sidewalk with the handles of the bag wrapped tightly around her hand. The sun seemed to shine even brighter than before she'd stepped inside the fluorescent lighting of the corner store. She lowered her head and pushed the sunglasses up on her nose.

Beth only made it a couple blocks away when something caught her eye and she paused, then slowed her pace as she passed a small thrift store. It wasn't terribly different from the one she'd visited recently to acquire a new wardrobe. If anything, it was smaller and dingier. But the thing that had caught her eye was the display of hats in the front window. It was a sale in preparation of the approaching cold temperatures, and one hat in particular stood out to her as it rested atop a head-shaped display.

She'd owned a hat exactly like it back in Georgia. In fact, she could still remember which drawer it was sitting in back on the farm, in her upstairs bedroom. It was a knitted white beanie, and she could almost feel the soft fabric between her fingers again. Even though it was a thrif store, this cap looked brand new. It was still just as bright white as the one sitting in her drawer at home.

 _Not home… the farm,_ she reminded herself.

Something inside her pulled her toward the front door of the small shop, and the next thing she knew, she was stepping inside to find a dimly lit thrift store packed with all kinds of secondhand goods. The shop was small but full of shelves, displays, and racks. Beth turned to walk straight to the window display of hats. And there it was: the knitted white cap, staring out at the sidewalk and street outside. She reached out and slipped it off the display, black corner store bag still hanging from her wrist.

It felt just like she'd remembered. She held it between her fingers and ran her thumbs across the knitting, staring down at it with a small smile on her face. It was _perfect_.

Beth lifted her head and glanced around, realizing she hadn't even thought about the possible cameras that were watching her. But there didn't appear to be any, or at least not any that were visible. Based on the appearance of the store, though, and how empty and quiet it was, she guessed that they probably weren't too concerned with surveillance.

She spotted the counter across the room, a middle-aged man reading a paperback novel sitting behind it, and began walking toward it with the hat in her hands. She weaved her way between displays and boxes and pieces of furniture. The whole store held a strong scent of mothballs, and it was starting to incite that nausea that had been dormant all morning.

But then she passed a rack of shoes that was twice as tall as she was, and standing right behind it was another rack of clothes on hangers. She glanced at it and walked right past, but then she spotted something familiar from the corner of her eye and she stopped. She turned back to the clothing rack and stared at it, focusing on the vest that was facing backwards on the rack to show off its design. If she hadn't taken this particular route to the counter, she wouldn't have seen the vest over here at all.

It was black leather with large, faded, white angel wings embroidered on the back. She squinted and stared harder, racking her brain and asking herself why it looked so familiar and why she felt so _weird_ looking at it right now – almost like a déjà vu sensation. It took a few seconds, but then she remembered the dream. A brief shiver ran through her and she couldn't stop her feet from carrying her forward, until she was reaching out and lifting the hanger from the rack.

She lifted the vest and held it before her, inspecting it closely. It was made of thick leather. It had obviously been worn before, but it was well taken care of. Or it was just durable as hell. It didn't smell like mothballs, though, like the rest of the store did. All Beth could smell was leather and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke.

 _Looks like something a biker would wear... Or maybe a biker dad, like Daryl. Wonder how it ended up here,_ she thought.

And then she was thinking about Daryl and the dream again. What kind of an other-worldly coincidence was this supposed to be? Or… sign?

She didn't even give it a second thought. Beth headed straight to the counter and set down the vest and hat, then reached into her pocket for the money. The middle-aged man set down his book, and Beth glanced at it to see a cheesy romance cover featuring a glorious, long-haired Fabio. The man rang her up wordlessly, which she appreciated, and sent her on her way with a paper bag holding the leather vest and knitted cap.

Beth slowed her pace a bit as she got farther from the thrift store, the sun beating down hot on her black leather jacket. She saw people passing by in suits on their lunch breaks, and families sitting outside restaurants to eat in the nice weather. By the time she got back to the apartment building, she was sweating beneath the jacket and more than ready to strip it off. But the trek back had gone by quickly because her head had been muddled the whole time with thoughts of Daryl and the dream and her bag full of pregnancy tests.

As she approached the door to apartment 3A and pulled the key from her pocket, sunglasses resting atop her head, she felt a vibration in her other pocket. She unlocked the door and slipped inside, shutting and locking it behind her. Then she pulled the phone from her pocket to find out what had caused the notification. It was a text message from Daryl.

 _Weird timing,_ she thought with a light flutter in her stomach.

She opened the message and read:

 _How you feeling?_

Before she even took her jacket off, she typed out a response, " _Great :) you? How's work?_ " And she pressed Send.

Beth set her phone and bags down on the bar and slipped her jacket off to hang it up, then untied her boots and headed to her bedroom to leave them on the floor and put her sunglasses away. She took off the bag and stuffed it back into the corner of the dresser drawer. Carefully, she removed the contacts and left them in the dish that still sat on her nightstand, blinking rapidly and adjusting her eyes. Then she pulled off her T-shirt, unholstered the Beretta and slipped off the undershirt, and placed the gun carefully inside the bag amongst the wads of cash before closing up the bag and shutting the drawer. She put her T-shirt back on and changed into a soft pair of sweatpants, relieved to have the concealing undershirt off. The gun seemed to feel heavier every time she had to carry it with her.

When she was comfortable and cooled off from the sun outside, she went straight for the black plastic bag on the bar. She dumped it out and grabbed the apple juice, opening it and immediately chugging for a solid fifteen seconds. It helped that she was already thirsty from the walk. Then she went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, forcing herself to chug at least a third of it, as well. Her stomach sloshed with liquid and she swallowed back a minor burning sensation in her throat.

 _Don't come back out this end, I_ _ **really**_ _need you to come out the correct end this time_ , she mentally scolded her body.

While she waited for the liquids to work their way to her bladder, Beth took the box of hair color – and the condoms – and put them in a drawer in her bedroom. Then she gathered up all the pregnancy tests and carried them into the bathroom, where she began unwrapping each one from its plastic and opening all the boxes. Some of the boxes contained two tests while others only held one. But every single box held an instructions pamphlet, and she sat perched on the edge of the bathtub while she read through each one and sipped the apple juice.

Her phone vibrated from where it sat next to the sink. She set down the pamphlet in her hand and took another drink of apple juice, then stood up and grabbed her phone to find a new text message from Daryl. She read:

 _Best day I've had in a while. Thanks for asking. Still planning on dinner?_

For a second, she forgot about the pile of pregnancy tests sitting a few feet away, and smiled to herself as she typed out a response and sent it. " _Wow, good to hear! Yes, any requests?_ "

But then she looked up from her phone and saw the tests again and her smile quickly faded. She set the phone back down and chugged apple juice for another ten seconds.

It took about ten minutes, but finally, Beth had the urge to pee. She tried to follow the instructions from the pamphlet as closely as possible while she did the first test, carefully capping it and placing it flat on the bathroom counter. She avoided looking at it the entire time, assuring herself the results wouldn't be accurate until the three-minute wait was over.

She stared at the timer on her phone as she waited, heart beating a little faster. She kept telling herself it would be okay, that the test would come out negative – and so would the next few – and then she'd be able to toss all the others and relax again. Or at least, relax as much as was possible while she continued living as a wanted fugitive in hiding.

There was only thirty seconds left when another text from Daryl arrived. Beth was grateful for the distraction and quickly opened the messaged to read:

 _Surpise me. Gotta get back to work so I can finish this job before I get off. See you tonight._

She reread the message twice and smiled to herself, a small flutter in her stomach. But then she saw that the three minutes was up and her heart sped up again. She swallowed hard and tried to slow her pulse while she reached over and picked up the white plastic stick. She refused to look at the result window until she was holding it directly in front of her.

The blue lines matched perfectly to the result that said "pregnant."

 _Fuck,_ Beth thought. _No, no way. Next one. False positives happen all the time._

All thoughts of Daryl or his texts or her family's court case immediately fled her mind. She chugged more apple juice and moved on to the next test. Her bladder was starting to fill faster and she knew the juice was starting to do its job. It didn't take long before she was peeing onto another stick, capping it, and setting it down flat to wait for three minutes.

And when the three minutes was up… _positive_.

 _Okay, different brand,_ she thought, grabbing another box and glancing at the pamphlet. This one had a foolproof digital screen that read "pregnant" or "not pregnant."

Another stream of urine, another three minutes, and another long chug of apple juice. The bottle was nearly empty now. She grabbed the test and kept her eyes shut until it was right in front of her.

 _Please, please, please give me the Not,_ she prayed.

Beth opened her eyes and gazed down hesitantly to see: _Pregnant_.

She thought her heart might burst in her chest. Her breaths were coming shorter and a pounding headache was forming in the left side of her head. She was about a second away from full-on panic mode.

With shaky hands and a bladder that continuously needed to be emptied, Beth proceeded to pee on every single test she'd purchased. She went from the cheap, generic brands to the expensive, well-known ones, but kept getting the same result. The bathroom counter was full of positive pregnancy tests. The bottle of apple juice sat empty among them.

The very last test was a particularly expensive one, though it was for good reason because it not only displayed a very clear "pregnant" or "not pregnant" digital response, but it also gave a rough estimate of how far along the pregnancy was. Beth had hoped she would be able to throw it out without ever having to use it, but it had become pretty clear that wasn't going to be an option today. So she opened the package and read the instructions carefully, even though they were basically the same as the ten other tests she'd just taken. She was grateful for the curved handle on this one because her wrist was beginning to cramp up from holding sticks at odd angles for five second intervals.

The final test sat on the edge of the counter, and once again, Beth avoided looking at it while she watched the time pass on her phone instead. Her mind was racing with all the possible solutions to this problem. Mostly, she was freaking out about the fact that she'd have to find a way to get to a doctor. No matter what she decided, that would be step one. And how the hell was she supposed to do that while she was on the run from the police and awaiting her new identification so she could flee the country?

She took a deep breath and steadied her trembling hands.

 _You're a Greene. Now act like one_ , she reminded herself. She could almost hear Maggie's voice in her head.

But what would Maggie say right now? Beth had a feeling it'd be a little more than "toughen up."

Full of dread, she picked up the plastic stick and held it in both hands before her. She stared down at the result window, and even though she immediately understood what it said, she didn't really register it for another thirty seconds. She just sat there and stared down blankly at the test, mouth agape and heart racing.

The window read: " _Pregnant_." And right below that, it read: " _3-5 Weeks_."

The only thing she could think was, _This can't be happening. I can't do this. I can't keep it. There's no_ _ **fucking**_ _way._

And no matter how many times she blinked or rubbed her eyes or squinted or shook the stick vigorously in her hand, tapping the tiny screen… the result didn't change. It was still there, right in front of her face. As well as all over the countertop.

It was all around her. Even now, as the bile rose in her throat and the last of the apple juice found an even quicker escape from her body.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** So we've finally confirmed that Beth is pregnant. Now to deal with it :) Hope y'all liked this. As always, big shoutout to **GracieMae11** and **arrowsandangels** , as well as all my other regular readers and reviewers. If you don't feel like commenting, just leave a review and let me know that you're reading and/or enjoying so far! Next update will be in a few short days :D But don't worry, we haven't seen the last of fluffy Beth and Daryl ;)


	29. i'm more scarred than my wrist is

_**i'm more scarred than my wrist is**_

 _Beth was newly seventeen and her big sister was getting married. Maggie and Glenn had been dating for about a year when they gathered the family together and announced that Glenn had gotten down on one knee and asked Maggie to marry him. And then Glenn had revealed that Maggie's answer had not simply been "yes," but something more like, "I already planned on it, you idiot, now get up off the ground, you just put your knee in dog shit."_

 _Nonetheless, they all got together and planned a small ceremony. Maggie didn't want anything extravagant – in fact, she insisted that she was perfectly fine with heading to the courthouse the next time they went into Atlanta. But Annette refused to accept that and immediately set about gathering all their closest members of the congregation, as well as assigning chores to almost everyone in order to get the ceremony together. It worked out for the better because Glenn had wanted his parents to attend anyway, and they'd held the wedding on a nice piece of land that was plenty far away from any sort of sulfur smell or the sight of padlocked barns. The early autumn weather in Georgia had been ideal, and even the reception was held outside without a hitch._

 _It was early September and Beth only remembered distinctly because she recalled being especially tired from her first couple of weeks back to school. She was taking all AP classes and, combined with her usual chores at home, she was running on nothing but coffee and fumes. Regardless, she was determined to be excited for her sister and help in any way she could._

 _She'd always liked Glenn. He'd only been around for about a year, but he'd proven himself time and time again. Plus, her daddy trusted him and loved him like one of his own, and he'd revealed that Glenn had come to him first before proposing, to get the blessing of Maggie's father. Of course, Hershel had no objections to it. Beth had even overheard him telling Shawn that he was excited to start teaching "_ _ **both**_ _of his sons" the things they'd need to know. She wasn't confident that she knew exactly what he was referring to, but she had a pretty good idea._

 _But now, as she sat atop her big sister's bed with freshly-inked table place cards scattered between the two girls, Beth was starting to think about what came next. Sure, she'd known that Maggie would most likely end up marrying Glenn. He'd been coming around so often now, he might as well have moved in already._

 _But this made it real. Like,_ _ **really**_ _real. She would be a_ _ **wife**_ _. And then what? Would she want to move away with Glenn? Go get their own home together? Begin working on starting their own family? That was what Maggie wanted, after all. She'd always talked about it. Even more so during the last year that she and Glenn had been seriously dating. Beth wasn't sure she was ready, though. She still needed her big sister. A lot._

 _The two girls had been talking casually about the wedding, some of the excitement coming through in Maggie's voice. Beth could tell she was secretly elated about having a ceremony and exchanging vows with Glenn in front of everyone. Even now, as Beth watched her sister carefully jotting down names in a notebook on her lap, short, brown hair hanging over her face, she could see the big grin that Maggie had and the happy glow about her._

" _So… after the wedding… Then what?" Beth asked hesitantly, twirling the pen between her fingers and continuing to watch Maggie._

 _Maggie raised her head and looked back at Beth, still smiling. "The reception – that's what we're plannin' right now, aren't you paying attention?"_

 _Beth rolled her eyes and smirked. "No, you know what I mean. Like, after yer married – is Glenn gonna move in, or are you guys gonna… move?"_

 _Maggie's smile faded and she furrowed her brow. "He's movin' in. I thought you knew that. What'd you think, we were gonna leave an' get our own place?"_

 _Beth shrugged and glanced down at the place cards scattered atop the bedspread. "I dunno. Kinda. Isn't that what you're s'posed to do?"_

 _Maggie snorted. "Guess so. All the more reason not to. Ain't like this family really does anything that we're_ _ **supposed**_ _to do."_

 _Beth had grown used to hearing her sister talk like this in the recent years, but it still didn't make her feel any better. "Well… don't you wanna, like… start a family? With Glenn?"_

 _She looked back to Maggie's green eyes and saw them clouded for a split-second. Then the brunette shrugged and answered, "Not really an option, so… I think we'll wait. A while."_

 _Beth gave her sister a quizzical look. "Really? The way you guys talk sometimes, it seems like you both can't_ _ **wait**_ _to have a baby…"_

 _Her voice trailed off but she could see Maggie chewing on the inside of her cheek before she said quietly, "Of course we want one... More than anythin'… But I can't bring a_ _ **baby**_ _into all this, Bethy… A little kid, totally innocent? It just… wouldn't be fair. We'd have to be somewhere far away, where nobody knows us, before I'd even consider it."_

 _Beth's heart sunk and she was suddenly feeling very empathetic for her sister. "Well, you could, ya know…"_

 _Maggie raised her eyebrows. "What?_ _ **Leave**_ _?"_

 _Beth nodded._

 _Maggie scoffed. "Don't be stupid. I would never do that. I couldn't leave you an' Shawn like that. Mom an' Dad… Y'all need me here."_

 _Beth watched her sister look back down at the notebook, but she could tell that she wasn't really looking at the page. The pen in her hand remained motionless._

" _It's not fair t'have to give up your whole life for_ _ **our**_ _sake," Beth mumbled after a moment of silence. "To you. Or Glenn... Not just some baby that doesn't even exist yet."_

 _Maggie didn't look up. She was biting her lower lip thoughtfully. But then she let out a 'pfft.' And she raised her head again and looked at Beth to say, "Glenn already quit his job six months ago. He's been workin' for Daddy, so he can't just up an' quit 'cause we got married and got some wild hair up our asses t'move away… We need the income… And Daddy needs people he can_ _ **really**_ _trust… I'm not gettin' off birth control anytime soon, I know that much for sure."_

 _Beth nodded and pursed her lips but didn't say anything._

" _It's not like we don't got time anyway," Maggie continued after a few seconds. "We're still young. These days, women are havin' babies at like, forty years old… Hell, Daddy was way older than than that when he had me an' you."_

 _Beth nodded and feigned a small smile._

"' _Sides, I don't think Glenn will be ready till he's_ _ **at**_ _ **least**_ _thirty-five," Maggie said more light-heartedly, smiling. "He talks about it, but he always sounds like he's scared shitless."_

 _Beth chuckled and Maggie joined her, but Beth couldn't shake the heavy feeling in her gut._

 _All she could really think at the time was, 'This can't be what Daddy wanted.'_

* * *

Beth vomited up whatever had been left of the apple juice in her stomach, as well as parts of her breakfast that she thought would've been digested by now. When she was done and had brushed her teeth and splashed her face with water, she still didn't feel any better. It wasn't even the nausea that was bothering her.

The pregnancy tests, and their boxes, filled up the bathroom trash can and Beth knew she couldn't leave them there. She couldn't even _think_ about Daryl right now, or how he might react or try to interject himself. In fact, she'd prefer if absolutely _no one_ knew about this. So she'd have to dispose of all the evidence.

Once she had everything cleaned up and gathered into a black garbage bag, she tied it up and set it aside for the moment. Then she grabbed her phone and typed out a text message to Clementine that said, " _Sorry I haven't texted you, been… busy. Stupid question: where do I go to take out the trash?_ "

She pressed Send and stared at the phone screen for a solid ten seconds, urging Clem to reply quicky. Even though she knew it didn't matter. She still had hours to dispose of the bag, and she knew that it wouldn't make her feel any better to put the tests out of her sight. She'd still be thinking about it. The hard ball of stress that was growing inside her stomach would still be there.

And so would the tiny parasite that had made itself at home inside her uterus.

 _Fucking… Jimmy_ , Beth thought damningly. She felt completely violated, to say the least. Like her body had been invaded and pillaged. _Goddammit, you son of a… Even in death, you found a way to fucking_ _ **haunt**_ _me. To ruin my life._

She couldn't help but to think of how she'd known she was feeling _too_ good. She'd taken it for granted, allowed herself to get comfortable and reckless. And even if she hadn't gotten pregnant by Jimmy, she'd gone as far as to subconsciously take advantage of her situation and get _risky_ with Daryl. Which could've just as easily resulted in the exact same situation she was in right now.

Well, _almost_ the same.

Either way, she was in no way, shape, or form prepared – or stable enough – to handle a pregnancy, let alone a baby. And then what? Adoption? Keep it? Tell Daryl and hope he's accepting? …Or hide it from him and leave without telling him?

 _But I can't do that because I_ _ **promised**_ _I wouldn't_ , she reminded herself.

Maybe God was punishing her this time for taking advantage of Daryl. She'd lied to him and used him and he was still completely oblivious. And now he was… _feeling_ things for her, all under the ruse that she was an entirely different person. If Beth's list of sins hadn't been long enough before, then it had certainly reached the point where it merited some consequences by now.

And it wasn't like she'd exactly _done_ anything to prevent the pregnancy, so it was her own fault, and she knew it. Once again. Just like August Eleventh… There'd been time, there'd been options. And she'd clammed up. She'd choked. She did _nothing_ , and now that nothing had grown into a huge _something_ that would eventually have a heartbeat and, possibly, a brain.

There had been a handful of times in the last year since she'd opened her wrist up that she'd thought about it again, especially after Shawn and her momma were killed. More times than that, it had crossed her mind briefly, and she'd shoved it out. Beth knew better… She knew she'd never go back down that route. She knew she wasn't _that_ Beth anymore.

But she couldn't stop her brain from contemplating it every now and then. The thought was… _freeing_ , in a way. If even for a second. Reassuring.

But the scar was her anchor and it always brought her back down quickly. All she had to do was run her finger across it. She remembered the dizziness, the nausea, the gasping for breath and the feeling of falling down a bottomless, black pit while she stared up at her family and watched them reach for her.

 _I have to deal with it,_ Beth told herself. _I have to find a way and I have to deal with it._

She tried to imagine Maggie's voice in her head, but for some reason, she just couldn't imagine her sister telling her what she needed to hear about this situation. All she could imagine was the anger and the blame that would surely have arisen.

" _We have to be prepared_ ," Maggie had said. It was the only thing Beth could hear in her head. " _Always be prepared._ "

 _I wasn't, though,_ she thought, fighting back tears. _I wasn't prepared for this. How could I have been? On top of everything else… how could I have ever been prepared for_ _ **this**_ _?_

She pushed back the tears and the knot in her throat and forced her feet to take her to the kitchen. She drank water and leaned against the counter, taking deep breaths and focusing on steadying her trembling hands.

A few minutes later, her phone was vibrating and she picked it up to find a text message from Clem. She opened it and read:

 _Take it down to the lobby, there's a door across from the mailboxes that goes downstairs. Leave it down there for the super. You okay?_

Beth typed out a quick reply and sent a message that said, " _Yeah, I'm fine. How's things with you? And have you talked to Rosita lately?_ "

Then she set her phone down and followed Clem's instructions. She grabbed the black garbage bag and headed out of the apartment, checking around for any signs of Carol first. But when she found the hall to be empty, as it usually was, she wandered out and quickly made her way down the stairs and to the door that Clem had described.

After disposing of the bag, Beth returned to the apartment and locked the door again. Then she returned to her water and her phone, taking a seat on the couch and relaxing into the cushions. She tried to relax and think clearly, sipping the water and willing the nausea away. There was another text from Clem that read:

 _Yeah, I'm fine! And yeah, Rosita's doing good. I think she started hooking up with that Spencer guy. Wanna hang out soon?_

Beth raised her eyebrows when she read the text but shrugged to herself and typed out a response, " _Yeah, sounds good. Let me know when._ "

She pressed Send but silently hoped that Clem didn't want to hang out _that_ soon. At the moment, she felt sick and guilty and terrified and wanted nothing more than to be alone.

When she finally felt like she might not vomit anymore, Beth got up and retrieved the bag from the thrift store. She pulled the hat and vest out, setting the knitted cap aside while she took another moment to gaze at the leather vest. Even now, holding it out in front of her, she felt that it was somehow meant to be with Daryl. She could already picture him wearing it.

She wandered into the boys' bedroom and carefully laid the vest out on the bed so that it would be the first thing Daryl saw, and so that he would have to pick it up to find the wings on the back. She hoped he liked it, but she wasn't positive. Maybe he was the kind of guy who would think angel wings were too "girly." But she took one last glance at the front of the vest and then walked away and left the bedroom. She figured she'd find out eventually whether he liked it or not; he'd either wear it or he wouldn't, and he didn't seem to be the type of guy who would lie to save her feelings.

Despite the bit of excitement it brought her to surprise Daryl with a gift, it did nothing to alleviate her internal panic and anxiety. She absent-mindedly scratched at the persistent itch on her wrist, her mind racing and wandering. The music found its way back into her head and she thought it was odd, but in a way, she still felt… _happy_ , even despite her predicament. Or at least, happier than she could remember feeling in... a long while.

There was a flutter in her lower abdomen and she knew it wasn't any kind of butterflies in her stomach. She felt the nausea building back up and the trembling in her hands and she went to her bedroom, shutting the door. She sat down on the bed and continued trying to calm herself. Another sip of water and she was closing her eyes, focusing on pushing out all the horrific thoughts that were forcing their way into her head.

Unable to reassure herself, Beth thought it might ease her mind to check the news and see that the country was still forgetting about her family's case. No news was good news, after all. And even though she knew today was their court appearance, she also knew it was still early in the day and maybe they hadn't been seen, or maybe the court system would be so backed up that… well, Beth didn't know where that thought was going. There was no good outcome to this, not in any form. All she could hope for was more headlines about politics and other people's missing children.

The national news was still devoid of the Greene name. This helped to alleviate the trembling in her hands.

 _Maybe Jesus was wrong_ , she thought as she navigated to the other sites. _Maybe this won't go national at all. Maybe people won't care about some backwoods, southern family that got busted running a meth operation._

But then she found the top headline on the Atlanta news site and her heart sunk. Bold, red letters spelled out, " _Greene Family Arraignments Begin in Huge Senoia Baptist Church Drug Bust._ " Just as she'd hoped, the tiny intruder in her body was no longer at the forefront of her mind. Except she hadn't been anticipating the pain of reality as she tapped the link and went on to read the article:

 _ **ATLANTA (Sept 12 3:17 PM):**_ _In the latest update on the Greene Family story, whose multi-million dollar drug operation was busted just outside Senoia on August 26th, Maggie Greene-Rhee and several other large players in the decade-long cover-up have had their arraignments and entered their official pleas. The eldest daughter of patriarch and drug lord, Hershel Greene, went before a judge early this morning, followed by husband, Glenn Rhee, and cousin, Arnold Greene. The Greene's head of the ranch, Otis Williams, and his wife, Patricia Williams, were also arraigned._

 _Officials remain tight-lipped about the case due to the condition of Detective Rick Grimes, who remains unresponsive and comatose. Det. Grimes was recently moved from Harrison Memorial Hospital to Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta for more intensive care, where his pregnant wife remains by his side almost daily. The status of missing suspect, Beth Greene, has also kept authorities silent as they continue their search for her._

 _18-year-old Beth Greene is still missing and wanted for the alleged murder of Detective Shane Walsh, partner to Det. Grimes, on the night of August 26th. Police say the anonymous tips have slowed in recent days, and all detained suspects have been proven to have no information regarding her whereabouts. Greene is still believed to be armed and dangerous, and officials say their newest lead has sent them north in pursuit of a possible trail._

 _All suspects involved in the Greene Family operation have been held without bail, and face several charges that include aggravated meth trafficking, racketeering and conspiracy to commit, and production and distribution of meth – a Schedule II drug._

 _On September 5th, Hershel Greene reportedly waived his right to counsel at his first appearance and entered a plea of guilty to all charges. Greene is expected to face multiple Life sentences and has been fast-tracked to sentencing, which has yet to be scheduled._

 _Maggie Greene-Rhee and husband, Glenn, have reportedly pled not guilty to all charges and are being represented in Superior Court by a long-time family retained lawyer. Otis and Patricia Williams have also pled not guilty to all charges and will be represented by the Greene's lawyer. Sources say they are expecting a clustered defense that will claim coercion due to the complexity of the family's case, and state social workers and psychologists have been brought in to assess more accurately for the prosecution._

 _The Greene's and Williams' will go before a grand jury, though no date has been set for the beginning of the trial. Pe-trial motions and hearings are scheduled to begin on September 18th amongst the District Attorney and the defense. Authorities have given an estimate of 3 to 5 months before any of the accused enter a courtroom again. They are each being held in undisclosed detention centers._

 _The Greene Family operated organized, illegal activities for nearly a decade, and Hershel Greene's children became heirs to his heinous legacy beginning from a young age, according to sources working with the defense , the District Attorney has stated that they will make no exceptions for the brutal murder of an officer of the law, and the debilitation of another officer._

 _After two weeks of interrogation and investigation, authorities have discovered that, with dozens of employees and close, quietly loyal confidantes that worked diligently within the Greene's church and farm, Hershel Greene built a small empire that consisted of layers and layers of secrets and complex guidelines. However, it appears their loyalty didn't lie quite as closely as the patriarch had thought._

 _Several of the unnamed suspects working below him have been arraigned and, reportedly, have agreed to multiple deals offered by the DA to give up small pieces of information in exchange for shorter sentences and confidential prison locations. The outcomes of these deals, and how they will affect Hershel Greene and his daughters, have yet to be specified. Officials have refused to comment at this time._

 _The District Attorney has also refused to comment on how the outcome of Detective Rick Grimes' medical status will affect the sentencing for Glenn and Maggie Greene-Rhee, as well as Hershel Greene. Our sources within the Greene's defense team have stated that sentencing could be more complex when it comes to suspects such as Glenn Rhee, whose involvement only dates back to 2015. Meanwhile, Otis Williams is known to have been heavily involved since the operation began in 2008._

 _No matter what happens, this is surely to be a very long, complex, and drawn-out trial. We'll keep you updated as information arrives. Stay tuned._

 _If you have any information regarding the possible whereabouts of Beth Greene, call the toll-free numbers listed below. She was last spotted heading north or northeast of Senoia on the night of August 26th. She is 5'4" and 110 lbs with blonde hair and blue eyes, and a possible scar on her left wrist._

Beth reread the article again and again, but couldn't get her mind off the most important part: Maggie and Glenn pled not guilty. They were _fighting_ it. They were using the lawyer their daddy had hired years ago, they were making the court give them a trial. They'd go before a jury and let _them_ decide.

Beth knew what this meant: Maggie would get a chance to tell her side of the story – _their_ side. And if the Atlanta news wasn't just bullshitting or sensationalizing, then maybe they'd bring psychologists into the mix and they'd see just how deeply everything ran. Maybe they'd see that her daddy wasn't the evil man they wanted to make him out to be. Just maybe, someone in that jury would understand what it was like to struggle and to be willing to give up everything you thought you believed in for the people you love.

And Glenn? He'd only been involved for two years. Things were already looking good for him. Or at least, Beth was going to tell herself that. The news had mentioned it and that had to mean _something_. Right?

The only part that truly made her sick to her stomach was finding out just how easily swayed most of the congregation had been. But then she grew nauseous again and it wasn't because her daddy had been ratted out… it was because she was wrong and she _knew_ it. At the very core of herself, she knew it was _wrong_. How could she ever expect all those people, with lives and loved ones and futures of their own, to give up their small chances at freedom for the sake of her daddy? Her family? She was completely selfish and shallow for even thinking about it.

She could never expect all those people – the family friends and long-time members of the congregation that she'd grown to know and love – to give up decades of their lives in prison just to keep their mouths shut. It didn't matter anymore anyway… her daddy was old. She didn't like to think about it, but he was. And not only that, but he was _ready_. He was accepting of his punishment, and once Beth could get past the initial anger and feeling of betrayal, she knew in her heart that this was what he truly wanted. She knew that he was probably accepting it and that he had expected absolutely nothing less.

Because he knew that Beth was still out there somewhere, and that she was free, _somehow_. And Maggie would be free eventually – long after he was gone, but she'd most likely still have plenty of time to live her life. Especially if the lawyer turned out to be as good as Hershel had always thought.

But _Beth_ was her daddy's hope. _She_ was his purpose. And so was Maggie. And Beth had freedom and a chance at a new life, and the happiness her daddy had sacrificed everything assure her. And Beth knew it, when she finally thought about it and admitted it to herself. It was just… a heavy thing to carry. And it only made her more nauseous.

She grew worried when she saw the last paragraph and the big, bold phone numbers listed below the article. But there was no photo of her, and she was grateful for that. She didn't even fit their description anymore.

The Georgia news had a headline that was very similar and the article was nearly identical to what Beth had already read. She hoped that the headlines would drift farther and farther down the page as the day went on. She also hoped there wouldn't be any more updates. From the sounds of it, she would have just enough time to get her paperwork from Jesus and flee the country before the trial would begin. Once it began, though, and they started getting cameras inside the courtroom and on the jury and Maggie… that could be it. It may be the one thing they needed to make it go national. What better way to capture attention than with a high-profile trial and lots of emotional pleas and dramatic reveals? Beth could already imagine all the ways the media would try to sensationalize the trial.

She wondered, for just a second, if she should be dwelling on the mention she'd read about police following a tip that was taking them north... If it had been a week ago, she'd probably be hyperventilating right now. But she had a feeling that they were clueless. She'd been careful and discreet and quick. She hadn't left any trail they could follow, at least not that they could follow to the apartment, or even the East Village. Not to mention, she wasn't even sure if "north" meant Canada north, northwest, or northeast. And even if they somehow tracked her to New York City, how would they find her? The city was huge, and they had no inkling of an idea as to where she could be.

If they did, she'd be on the news. Her photo would be up, her name would be out there. But it was quiet. Beth was willing to bet that Dawn Lerner and all her goonies had more than enough on their plates with the aftermath of the bust. Lerner was mostly talk anyway – she was constantly putting on a front. But even from a distance, Beth could see her waiver. She could see the hesitation in her movements and the doubt hiding in the lines on her face. Lerner was _nothing_. And if she even _started_ to get close to Beth, Beth was confident that she'd slip away and be miles out of reach before Dawn could even blink.

She _wasn't_ her daddy. She refused to drop to her knees and silently accept her fate. She wouldn't sit still and let them surround her.

 _Except… you promised someone very important that you wouldn't_ _ **run**_ _, either_ , A voice piped up in the back of her head.

Beth sighed and set her phone down, closing her eyes and putting her face in her hands, thinking, _Right… and how would I convince him to up and leave with me like that…?_

 _You wouldn't,_ the voice answered. Her own voice. _He doesn't even know your fucking_ _ **name**_ _._

Her stomach was twisting and knotting up now. She'd wanted a distraction, but not like this. Her mind was racing and battling with itself and her wrist itched like crazy. She thought she might take a long swig of moonshine if it weren't for the fragile state of her esophagus.

It was an odd feeling she was left with. There were traces of happiness still in her, for reasons she couldn't quite pinpoint. Pregnancy hormones, maybe…? But then there was the other part that was nothing more than a giant ball of anxious stress. And while she was struggling with the concept of being simultaneously happy and hopeless, dozens of impulsive thoughts were running through her brain – flashing by like passing cars. Thoughts of running, disappearing, taking a blade to the tender skin of her wrist and slicing vertically this time, or leaping from that beautiful rooftop on Denise and Tara's condo building…

This was exactly the kind of time Beth had always relied on her journal the most. Writing everything out felt like organizing her mind and sorting through the jumble of feelings. But she hadn't been able to do that in what felt like ages, and now everything inside was one, big clusterfuck. Elation was shoving its way onto a crowded shelf right alongside anxiety and depression, squeezing in where there was no room for it.

So instead of dwelling on the intrusive thoughts or the nausea or the itching, Beth got up and went straight to her guitar. She picked it up and brought it with her to sit on the bed, placing it in her lap. And, just as she'd hoped, as soon as she placed her fingers on the frets and held the pick over the strings, her heart seemed to slow. Her breaths came more evenly, and the giant ball of tension and worry that had formed in her stomach was slowly shrinking. Her mind slowed and emptied, if just for a few moments.

The music started playing and she was strumming along to a tune that had been in her head. She didn't know where it came from, like usual. Another snippet of the past popping up to surprise her and bring her flashes of a distant life she once knew. This song was by a band she'd never really listened to, but she'd heard a classmate listening to it and had asked her about it. Beth had liked the song ever since, and it would randomly pop into her head from time to time. It was simple, and she'd learned to play it within a couple of hours back on the farm.

The tune was upbeat and she strummed happily, letting the music fill her head and push out all the other thoughts. She sang aloud and her muscles instantly relaxed, the tensions and pressure forgotten for a short time. The music filled the small apartment, accompanied by Beth's melodic voice.

" _My legs are dangling off the edge, the bottom of the bottle is my only friend. I think I'll slit my wrists again and I'm gone, gone, gone, go-one…_ "

She felt another flutter somewhere below her abdomen. She pressed her fingers harder into the frets and strummed a little louder.

" _I wish that I could fly-y… way up in the sky, like a bird so high… Oh, I might just try. Oh-h, I might just try…_ "

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** The title of this chapter, last chapter, as well as the song that Beth was singing at the end are all taken from the song "Bullet" by Hollywood Undead. I felt it really fit this chapter rather perfectly.

There's been some questions about the timeline and I've tried to make it clear with context clues but I need a reference while I write, so I figured it's only logical that it would be helpful to post a little breakdown of the timeline so far. It's probably most confusing because there are several days that took place over several chapters, so it feels like it's been longer than it actually has been. I'll post a full, detailed timeline at the very end of the story, with the epilogue (yes, I already KNOW there will be an epilogue!).  
Chapter 1 began on August 26th. All the flashbacks are pretty much out of order, but they usually explain what month/year it is if you read closely. If you have any questions, comment or message and I'll clear it up for you! Until the epilogue, hope this helps with the confusion.

 **All flashbacks take place between 2008 and 2017. The bulk of this piece takes place in late 2017.**  
 **April 12, 2017:** Annette and Shawn are murdered.  
 **June 2017:** Beth graduates high school.  
 **August 11, 2017:** Jimmy rapes Beth and impregnates her.  
 **August 23, 2017:** Beth turns 18.  
 **August 24, 2017:** Beth breaks up with Jimmy, he gives her a black eye and a cut lip. Late that night, her family finds him and beats him within an inch of his life.  
 **August 25, 2017:** Jimmy breaks into the Greene farmhouse on this night and steals from Hershel. He is arrested and never seen again.  
 **August 26:** Shane and Rick infiltrate the Greene Farm, Beth runs and the rest of the farm/church is placed under arrest.  
 **August 27:** Beth runs until she is found by Dale and Irma. They take her in on their way northeast.  
 **August 28-29:** Beth travelling with Dale and Irma.  
 **August 30:** Jimmy is killed in jail but the information is not released to the media. Beth arrives in NYC and meets Daryl and Malachi.  
 **September 1:** The anniversary of the death of Daryl's ex/Malachi's mother.  
 **September 2:** Beth attends her first self defense class and meets the girls.  
 **September 3:** The news of Jimmy's death is released.  
 **September 4:** The video of Lori Grimes pleading the public for answers is posted online.  
 **September 5:** Detective Grimes I.  
 **September 6-11:** Beth and Daryl's relationship develops.  
 **September 12:** News about the court proceedings is released. The Georgia media begins digging deeper into the case.

That's where we're at so far. Like I said, if you have any other questions or something is confusing, please let me know so I can clear it up for you and everyone else! :)  
And as always, please let me know what you thought! I hope you liked this flashback and news update, and I already have the next 2 chapters written so I'll post chapter 30 in a couple of short days! Thanks for reading!


	30. cause i don't do too well on my own

' _ **cause i don't do too well on my own**_

Beth played her guitar and sang intermittently for a while, until her anxiety felt like it had reached a more manageable level. The music had certainly helped to stop her hands from shaking, and her wrist was no longer itching or aching. Of course, she couldn't push the worry out of her head quite so easily. It found its way back quickly and demanded her attention. So she got up and set about preparing dinner in the hopes that it would distract her and that, by the time Daryl and Malachi got home, she would feel better and the nausea would subside.

She turned on the TV and left it on a music channel, half-listening while she prepped and cooked and checked the clock. She glanced at the front door every few moments, anxiously awaiting the boys' arrival. When she caught herself, she couldn't really explain why she was anxious to see them. But she didn't feel like admitting that she was _excited_ to see Daryl. She'd just seen him less than twelve hours ago, after all.

Plus, it made her feel guilty because a part of her knew that she deserved nothing more than to be depressed and overwrought after reading the news article _and_ finding out about the pregnancy. She had no deserved right to continue feeling any sort of optimism considering the circumstances brought about by her poor choices.

And yet, Beth realized she was smiling.

The front door opened shortly after six and soon, Malachi's voice was filling the small apartment. Beth glanced over, still smiling, and met Daryl's gaze. To her surprise, he was smiling, too. She couldn't remember ever seeing him appear so content right after getting home from work before.

Malachi rushed up to Beth and greeted her happily, then ran off to his bedroom at his father's urging. Daryl paused in the hall on his way to join the toddler and stepped into the kitchen to investigate.

"Smells good," he commented, looking around while slowly approaching Beth.

"It's almost ready, if you guys are hungry," she told Daryl, placing a lid over the pot she'd been stirring and turning to face him.

He nodded. "Cool. Jus' gotta wash up and change an' we'll be out here."

She noticed the way his eyes were briefly glancing at her lips. "Okay."

But then he furrowed his brow and asked quietly, "You good?"

Beth nodded and gave him a quizzical look. "Yeah – what d'you mean?"

Daryl shrugged but still seemed to be studying her face. "Dunno. Jus' look… different, somehow. Maybe I'm just tired."

 _Does he know?_ She thought, and her stomach churned.

"Maybe. How was work?" She asked, grasping at the chance to change the subject.

"Alright, I guess. Nothin' special," he grumbled in reponse, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Thanks for cookin'."

"No problem," she smiled, though now she was doubting herself and wondered if her own facial expressions were betraying her. "You, uh… tell your buddy that he was right?"

Daryl's eyes seemed to light up and he smirked at her reference, and she thought she could see a bit of a blush in his cheeks. He scoffed. "Hell nah. Last thing Dwight needs is t'hear that he was right about somethin'. I'd never hear the end of it."

Beth chuckled but didn't say anything. Daryl shrugged, adding, "Figured he'll find out eventually anyway."

She opened her mouth to ask what he meant but stopped herself. The timer went off behind her, signaling that the rolls in the oven needed to be checked.

But before she could turn away from Daryl, he was stepping forward and leaning in, reaching out to grab her gently by the arm. And then he was kissing her softly, and she closed her eyes to lean into it.

She could've stood like that longer, kissing him back, but he pulled away and she opened her eyes to look up and see him smirking down at her. He let go of her arm and stepped back, briefly glancing over his shoulder to make sure Malachi wasn't nearby.

"Alright, be back in a few," he muttered sheepishly.

Beth nodded, smiling weakly, and watched him turn and head down the hall to his bedroom, where the faint sound of Malachi's voice was coming from.

Her stomach was fluttering like crazy now, but it wasn't from the parasite in her uterus this time. She smiled to herself while she turned off the TV and finished preparing dinner, beginning to portion it out onto three plates.

She was working on setting the table when Daryl reappeared from the hall, an extremely intriguing look on his face and the vest in his hand. Beth looked up and smiled, wondering why he wasn't getting ready for dinner, then she saw the vest and blinked. She'd already forgotten about it, and the anticipation she'd had for Daryl's reaction had even slipped her mind. But now she smiled again and watched him holding the vest up in his hands, staring at her quizzically.

"Where'd you find this?" He asked, and Beth thought he sounded a bit baffled.

She shrugged, expecting a sheepish "thanks" at most. She hadn't realized he'd be so surprised. She muttered, "I dunno – came across it at a thrift store today. I just, uh – just thought you might like it."

Daryl was still staring at her with raised eyebrows. "A thrift store? Like, here in the Village?"

Beth nodded and gestured toward the direction she'd walked to find the shop. "Yeah, maybe like… twelve blocks that way…? Why? D'you want me to return it, or – "

Then she saw a small smile forming on his lips and she returned the expression hesitantly. He looked down at the vest again and gripped it in his hands.

She began to ask, "What…"

Daryl shook his head and met her eyes again. "Nah, it ain't that. This – I had this back in _Georgia_. But it got packed away when I moved and… well, Mal's mom accidentally donated whatever box it was in. I ain't seen it in… five, six years, I think. Pro'lly closer ta seven by now. _Goddamn_ , ain't that some _shit_ …"

He was grinning now as he stared down at it, turning it over and over and inspecting every stitch. Beth was awestruck. She opened her mouth to say something but could only blink in disbelief.

"Still looks exactly how I 'member," he marveled, still smiling as he ran his fingers over the angel wings.

From the look on his face and the way he was admiring the vest, Beth could guess that it meant more to him than just some piece of clothing he really liked and had lost. But she didn't want to ask at the moment.

 _Should I tell him about that weird-ass dream?_ She thought. _I'd probably sound crazy._

"Well, I guess it stayed nearby," she finally said. What other explanation was there?

Daryl shook his head and looked back at her. "Nah, we were stayin' clear up in _Harlem_ when she donated this. I can't… Jesus Christ, that's a _hell_ of a coincidence. Huh... Small world."

 _To say the least,_ she thought.

He continued smiling and Beth said, "Glad I grabbed it. I almost walked right past it. It just… looks like it belongs on you."

He chuckled and nodded, "Thanks. Can't believe that… Man, wait till Dwight hears _that_ one."

Beth raised her brows and he scoffed at her expression, exchanging a silent inside joke and causing her to giggle briefly.

Daryl moved to turn around and walk away, but paused and stepped toward her instead. She froze, a stack of napkins still clenched in one hand, and closed her eyes as he leaned in to kiss her longingly. When he pulled away, she stared up at him with surprise and a sheepish smile.

"Thank you," he said quietly, smirking down at her and pulling his hand back. "Really. Means more'an you know."

Beth nodded. "You're welcome. It's not a big deal. I'm jus' glad you like it."

"Hmm," he grunted, and gave her another nod of gratitude before turning away and disappearing down the hall once again.

Her lips continued to tingle while she finished setting the table and portioning out the plates. She was discreetly smiling to herself again without realizing it. For the moment, she didn't even care about the way her stomach was flip-flopping, or the burning at the back of her throat as the nausea continued to brew like a tiny storm. The food had smelled delicious when she began cooking, but now it was reminding her of the inside of a toilet bowl. Despite that, she laid out dinner and drinks and had the table ready by the time the boys joined her.

Malachi was chattering away about his day with Carol as Daryl helped him into his seat and guided him along with placing a napkin in his lap and the correct way to hold his fork. Beth poked at her food with a fork and placed a couple of tiny bites into her mouth while she watched Daryl absent-mindedly. He settled into his seat and, once he had Malachi busy with feeding himself, began digging into his own food gratefully.

His eyes met hers from behind his shaggy, dark hair and he swallowed a mouthful of food before speaking, "Delicious. Thanks again."

Beth nodded and smiled, but she was struggling with the small bites she was taking. The food tasted bland and dissatisfying for some reason, and she was confused because she thought being around Daryl and Mal would make her feel better. But somehow, sitting down at the table and staring at Daryl over a nice meal was only making her mind race faster with all the stress of the news article and the pregnancy.

And if she looked different now, maybe he knew. Was he going to ask her about it? She suddenly felt very unsure, and she wondered if he could tell what she was thinking from the way he seemed to be studying her face.

 _I got rid of the tests. No one knows. There's no way he knows,_ Beth assured herself.

"Ya alright?" Daryl asked after a few moments passed in silence.

Malachi was so preoccupied with his dinner that he had taken a short break from his usual stories and questions. Beth snapped out of her thoughts and realized Daryl was still studying her. She nodded silently and picked up the roll from her plate to tear off another small piece and place it in her mouth.

"Ain't really eatin'. You sick again?" He asked, and she could hear a hint of concern in his voice.

 _I guess this is the downside of the whole intimacy thing_ , Beth thought with the slightest hint of regret. _Now it's gonna take even more to keep shit from him. Why does he suddenly care so much?_

She shook her head and swallowed the bit of roll, taking a quick swig of ginger ale. The nausea was less of an impulse to throw up and more of a constant battle with her own stomach to just accept nourishment and stop making her feel miserable. And she thought if this was what women had to go through for months at a time during pregnancy, then she wasn't sure how anyone had _ever_ made it all the way through.

She was forming a bluff in her head, trying to act and appear convincing while brushing off Daryl's worry. Then Malachi took the opportunity to chime in, still gripping the fork in his tiny hand.

"Yer sick?!" He asked loudly.

Beth's eyes widened and she was sure that some of the irritation from the loudness of the toddler's voice was showing on her face. But she feigned a small smile and looked at him, immediately feeling guilty.

"No, I'm okay," Beth said, and she knew it would be easier to distract a toddler than it would be to distract Daryl. So she added, "How about some reading tonight? I could use some _Harry Potter_."

Malachi's face lit up and he turned his head to look at his dad expectantly. Beth looked at Daryl as well, and asked, "If Dad says it's okay."

Daryl smirked as he looked back at his son, then met Beth's gaze and nodded. "'Course. Sounds nice."

She smiled and took another sip of ginger ale to ease the building sensation at the back of her throat.

"Only if yer up to it," he added, quickly looking back down at his plate.

Beth watched him for a few seconds before muttering, "I'm fine, I promise."

She saw his shoulders relax at this statement and he met her eyes again and nodded.

"Did you get that job finished today? At work, I mean," she asked, attempting to change the subject and pull the attention away from herself.

Daryl finished chewing the bite he'd taken and nodded, "Oh yeah. Wasn't a big deal, jus' kinda tedious. Couldn't work on nothin' else…"

Then Malachi spoke up once he realized his dad was finished talking. "Um, Dad, did you know – um, did you…"

The rest of the meal was mostly filled with Malachi's chattering. His conversation jumped between several topics, and he asked Daryl random questions all throughout. Beth listened idly, trapped in a silent cycle of pervasive thoughts. When she wasn't imagining Maggie and Glenn in a courtroom, she was imagining herself with a huge, pregnant belly. And handcuffs. And then she was wondering just how good her daddy's lawyer was, and if he'd be willing to represent her after all the trouble she caused.

At one point, her masochistic mind had wandered its way to thinking about Jimmy. What would he say if he could see her now? She didn't really think it'd be anything, in all honesty. He'd chosen drugs and his own narcissism over her a while back. But would a baby have changed things? What if that's what he'd been _trying_ to do? Was he so high that he didn't think his actions would have consequences, or was he looking for that one thing he needed to latch onto Beth for good? …Or was she just grasping for meaning in a situation that was completely meaningless and unplanned?

 _Shit,_ she thought. _Fuck Jimmy… What would_ _ **Maggie**_ _say? What would she have told me to do?_

Something sick and twisted inside her head reminded her that she was carrying the last living piece of Jimmy. But she didn't like to think about that because it only made her feel more nauseous. She hated how easily she could make herself feel sick with guilt.

She could almost picture Maggie's reaction. And something told Beth that her big sister would've never approved of keeping the fetus that Jimmy had invaded her body with against her will.

 _So what option does that leave me with?_ Beth asked herself. Even though she already knew the answer.

"You want me ta take that?" Daryl's voice snapped her out of her thoughts and she looked up to realize he was standing next to her, empty plates in his hand while he pointed with his other hand to the plate sitting in front of her. She hadn't taken more than a dozen bites.

"Thanks," she said, and nodded as she sat back to let him pick up the plate and take it away to the kitchen. She was grateful that he wasn't prodding her about why she barely ate.

Malachi hopped up from his seat and eagerly grabbed the empty glasses and carried them to the kitchen to help his dad. Beth could hear him telling Daryl another story while they moved about the kitchen. She picked up her ginger ale and sighed to herself, then went to the bookcase and pulled out the _Harry Potter_ book with a bookmark inside and took it to the couch, setting down her glass on the coffee table and waiting for the boys to join her again.

For a short time, while she read aloud and Daryl's leg rested against hers on the couch, and Malachi stared at her with big, blue eyes and a grin, Beth completely forgot about all the things weighing on her shoulders. Even her stomach had calmed itself for the time being. She stifled giggles when she did dramatic voices for the characters in the book and saw Daryl smiling and gazing at her from the corner of her eye. And a warmth ran through her body when he placed a hand on her thigh and rested back into the couch, a lazy smile still resting on his lips.

Malachi laughed at Beth's impression of Dobby the House Elf and she couldn't hide the grin on her face. Nor did she want to.

At one point, she asked herself, _How is it possible to feel so content and miserable at the same time?_

They read about three or four chapters before Daryl was nudging her and motioning to the clock, then to Malachi's drooping eyelids. The toddler was still enthralled by the story, but he was visibly fighting sleep, and Beth realized it was about ten minutes past his usual bedtime. She found a stopping point and ended the chapter dramatically, then replaced the bookmark and shut the book.

"Alright, bud, it's time fer bed," Daryl announced, quickly removing his hand from Beth's thigh and standing up from the couch.

Malachi was too tired to argue. He stood up and yawned, rubbing his eyes with tiny fists. Then he walked over to Beth as if it were part of a routine and held his arms out for a hug. Beth felt herself blushing, though she wasn't sure why, and leaned down to hug the toddler tightly and tell him goodnight.

"'Ni-ight," Malachi said, almost sadly.

"C'mon, bud," Daryl placed his hand on his son's back and guided him toward the hallway, then turned back to Beth momentarily. "You wanna watch somethin', or you goin' ta bed, too?"

Beth rubbed her neck awkwardly and shrugged. She wasn't sure how much more stress her stomach could handle tonight, and in the back of her head, she had the nagging urge to hide away and begin seriously researching options on her phone. A part of her wanted to sit close with Daryl and enjoy his presence, but she wasn't trying to feel any more flutters in her stomach. She knew she could only keep the pregnancy a secret for a short time, especially now that Daryl was watching her more closely. And at this point, she was less worried about how he'd interpret her actions and more worried about how he'd react if he found out the truth. So it was a case of priorities by now.

"Think I'll try to lay down," she muttered quietly, and watched his face closely for a reaction.

She saw the shadow of disappointment cross his features but he quickly shrugged it off and nodded. "Alright. Wake me up if ya need anythin'…"

Beth nodded and gave Daryl a tight-lipped smile, then watched him head back to the hall and toward his bedroom with Malachi. She didn't fail to notice that he'd actually offered to have his sleep interrupted for her sake, if need be. But she couldn't give in to her superficial desires tonight. She just didn't have the energy or the capacity to hold more guilt.

That didn't stop her from briefly wondering if he would've kissed her again had it not been for Mal's presence, though.

She returned the book to its place in the bookcase and went to the kitchen to grab the Tupperware containing the remaining gingersnaps, then took them with her to her bedroom. She shut the door and sat down on the bed, lightly snacking on the cookies in the light from the bedside lamp. Her mind was still doing plenty of work to keep her busy, and even though the cookies didn't taste much better than dinner, she forced down two of them and found her stomach thankful for it.

Beth lay in bed and scrolled through her phone, clicking dozens of links and searching all different variations of pregnancy resources and New York state laws. It only eased her for a short time until she came to the conclusion that she wouldn't be able to do a damned thing without _some_ form of ID. And things were looking grimmer and grimmer as she realized she may have no choice but to ask _someone_ for help. Though she wasn't sure who that could possibly be yet. A few possibilities ran through her head, like Clem or Rosita or even Carol – maybe Tara, since she worked in the medical field. But Beth was extremely irresolute, and her anxiety was reaching sky-high levels.

The only thing that really relaxed her at all was navigating through the news websites and finding nothing new about her family. As a bonus, the headlines from Georgia and Atlanta were slowly making their way farther down as newer headlines popped up and outrage about political issues became the forefront again.

 _Maybe it won't be interesting enough to grab anyone's attention,_ Beth thought hopefully. But she knew that only time would really tell.

She lay in the dark, beneath her comforter, and darkened the screen of her phone before shutting her eyes. She could hear Daryl's light footsteps in the hallway, and she thought she might've heard him hesitating in front of her door. But he had probably just stepped into the kitchen for a moment. Then she heard him in the living room, and only the faintest sound of the TV drifted through her door from the living room.

Surprisingly, it didn't take long after that until she was drifting off. Sleep welcomed her with open arms, and she was more than happy to embrace it.

But instead of comforting darkness and the slightest taste of non-existence, Beth found herself standing in an unfamiliar room. She was cold. It was dark except for a single light hanging from the ceiling, focusing on the center of the room. Then Maggie was there. And Glenn. And Daddy. All seated right beneath the spotlight.

She couldn't find her voice, couldn't muster the energy to open her mouth and form words. She just stared, wordlessly, mouth agape and eyes brimming with tears.

They were all in handcuffs, sitting in hard, plastic chairs and wearing bright orange jumpsuits. The fronts of the jumpsuits were spattered with dark red blood, and Beth wondered whose it was. She looked at her daddy and saw that his hands were covered in it, dripping pools of crimson at his feet. His head hung low and he wouldn't look at her.

Maggie moved her mouth but her voice sounded distant and muffled by static, like it was coming through an old walkie-talkie. Yet she was right here, sitting just feet away from Beth, hands cuffed together in her lap and an angry expression on her face.

"… _Bethy, what did you get yourself into…?_ "

Beth wanted to argue back, to defend herself. But again, the words wouldn't form. She turned to Glenn and saw the tears on his face, and then he suddenly looked shocked. His expression startled her, and she looked to Maggie again to see her gazing pointedly at Beth's abdomen.

She looked down and her heart skipped. Her belly was huge and pregnant. She could feel a sharp pain in her gut and she nearly cried out loud in pain.

And then she was awake. Her eyes opened and Beth gasped inward sharply. She realized her pillow was damp and her face was streaked with tears. She wiped them away roughly with the backs of her hands and rolled over. The dream was quickly fading from her memory but the pain it left in her stomach wasn't.

She blinked and adjusted her eyes to see that the clock on the nightstand read 2:51. She listened for the sounds she'd fallen asleep to, but the apartment was just as silent and dark as her bedroom now.

Beth closed her eyes and willed her mind to slow again and allow her to fall back to sleep, even though she was a little fearful of having another nightmare. But her body had other plans and refused to let her muscles relax. Her wrist was starting to itch again. She felt another flutter, like a period cramp, and it made her wince – though not from pain.

She stared at the clock and watched the minutes tick by. The faintest images of her family in handcuffs were imprinted on her mind and kept drifting into view before dissolving, like paper in water. It made her chest physically ache. For about ten minutes, she strongly comtemplated picking up her phone and attempting to contact Jesus. She'd even composed the message in her mind, asking him if he could just pass _one_ , simple message to Maggie, no matter how risky it may be. But the logical side of her won in the end.

Her body was restless and her muscles wouldn't relax and lie still. There was an urge deep inside Beth and it was something far more than physical. She fought with it for at least ten minutes before giving in and pulling the comforter off to stand up.

The apartment felt colder than usual, and Beth slipped out into the hall in silence. She navigated the dark apartment, using the dim light from above the stove in the kitchen to find her way to Daryl's bedroom door. It was left ajar and she quietly pushed it open enough to slip inside.

She hesitated just past the doorway, pausing and squinting through the darkness to see Malachi sleeping soundly in his toddler bed. And on the other side of the room, she could barely make out Daryl's motionless form beneath the blankets. Despite her apprehension, Beth's feet urged her forward, and she tiptoed across the carpet without making a sound. Then she was standing at the edge of Daryl's bed, but she wasn't thinking about what they'd been doing the last time she'd been here. All she could think about was how warm and inviting the spot beside him looked, and how his arm was resting across the open spot like he was waiting for her to fill it.

He was facing away from the wall, sleeping in the middle of the bed with plenty of space between the edge and his body for Beth to slip in. She carefully and quietly crawled into the bed, gently lifting Daryl's arm and sliding in beneath it before stretching her legs out and slipping them underneath the covers. She rested her head on the empty pillow beside him and nuzzled her way in closer, until she could feel his body heat against hers.

He had stirred when she'd disturbed the mattress and lifted his arm, but he didn't make any sounds or open his eyes until she was settled in beside him. She closed her eyes and breathed in his smell, finding comfort in it. Then he was wrapping his arm around her a little more tightly and pressing his body against her back and she felt a twitching against her thigh, but he quickly adjusted himself and she didn't feel it again.

She heard him, and felt him, hum contentedly from his throat. He pressed his lips softly against the skin of her neck, planting a kiss before nuzzling his face into the back of her hair and breathing in deeply.

Beth had expected him to say something, or ask if she was okay. But he didn't and that was fine with her. Maybe he really _had_ been waiting for her to fill the empty spot in his bed.

Her muscles finally relaxed in a way that they hadn't been able to in her own bedroom, and her mind slowed. Her breathing steadied and she didn't feel like throwing up for a change. She could've sworn that even her heartbeat had evened out.

His lips were just below her ear again, kissing softly, and he breathed out against her skin, "'S gonna be okay…"

Then she felt Daryl's large, warm hand opening up and his even warmer palm was being placed flat against her tummy, over the thin cotton of her shirt. He pulled her in just a little closer, pressing their bodies tighter together. She swallowed back a knot forming in her throat and leaned into him, his words bringing back the ache in her chest. His hand seemed to press meaningfully into the soft part of her tummy, just above her waistband.

But she didn't have the energy to worry about whether he knew about the tiny invader beneath his palm, stowed away in her uterus. At least, not for now. Everything around her was drifting away and sleep was welcoming her back again.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** The title for this chapter comes from "7 Minutes in Heaven (Atavan Halen)" by Fall Out Boy. I also feel like the song kinda fits the chapter :)  
I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm a total slut for dream sequences. Sorry. And yeah, dudes, Beth totally blames herself for everything. She has a pretty heavy victim mentality in this fic, if you couldn't tell. But it's also one of the things that she and Daryl relate on, at a subconscious level. This was kind of a short chapter, sorry about that, but next chapter will be up in just a couple days! And things are about to get pretty eventful... ;)  
Leave a review and let me know what you think! What's your opinion on the decision Beth is leaning towards? Thank you to everyone reading and favoriting and following and reviewing! Y'all are the reason we've made it to chapter 30 :D


	31. years in perspective to put them all on

_**years in perspective to put them all on the line;**_

Beth awoke to Daryl gently nudging her and whispering in her ear, "Rosie… _psst_ , hey… wake up, babe…"

She stretched out and sleepily asked, "Hmm?" She'd forgotten, in her sleepy haze, that she was sleeping in his bed and that Malachi was just across the room. It was still dark and quiet in the apartment. Daryl planted a few soft kisses along Beth's neck, below her ear.

"C'mon, I'll take ya t'yer room," he whispered against her skin.

She blinked and tried to wake up, but she was groggy and felt like she could roll over and go back to sleep for a very long time. However, she resisted the call and allowed Daryl to help her up and out of the bed. He led her quietly through the bedroom, tiptoeing past Malachi, who was still sound asleep in his bed. She leaned againt Daryl and he practically carried her through the hallway, her body exhausted and unwilling to wake up. When they made it to her bedroom, he guided her over to crawl into bed, where she glanced the clock and saw that it was just after five in the morning. She'd only been asleep a couple of hours and she definitely felt it.

Beth was so groggy and tired, she couldn't even keep her eyes open to see Daryl pulling the comforter up and over her, and tucking it in around her until he was satisfied with her level of comfort. She was drifting back to sleep when she felt his fingers lightly caress her cheek and his lips plant a soft kiss on her mouth. She couldn't remember hearing him leave the bedroom.

The next thing she knew, she was waking up and it was nearly noon. The apartment was no longer dark but filled with the sunlight that was pouring into the living room. The central air had kicked on and the only sound that could be heard was coming from the vents. The apartment was warm and Beth could tell it was another summer-y day before autumn began outside.

She lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling for a while, recalling everything she could from the night before and that morning. But it was all quickly outweighed by the stresses of the day before. Slowly, they weighed down on her once again, and then she was just as tense as she'd been before crawling into bed with Daryl. Even the nausea was beginning to make a reappearance.

Beth reached over and grabbed her phone, unplugging it from the charger and checking for notifications. She was surprised to find a text from Daryl, and she quickly tapped on it and read:

 _Need anything tonight?_

She wondered what exactly he meant because it could be several different things. Either way, she had the same response, and she quickly typed it out and sent a reply that said, " _No, don't think so but thank you for asking :) How's work?_ "

She checked her inbox and found another text message from Irma, but she chose to check the news sites again instead. She spent several minutes checking and double-checking for any national coverage, and then she moved on to Georgia and Atlanta news and was relieved to see that her family's headline hadn't been updated, and it had also been bumped down to nearly the bottom of the page. This helped to ease her nausea somewhat, until she remembered she had a bigger and much more imminent problem to figure out. And she didn't know how much longer she could keep it hidden.

Beth got out of bed and dragged herself to the kitchen, brewing some fresh coffee and willing her stomach to calm itself. She went to the bathroom and washed her face and brushed her teeth, washing away the last remaining haze of grogginess. When she returned to the kitchen and poured herself a small cup of coffee, she found the smell to be unpleasant in her nostrils. She was only able to swallow about half of what she'd poured before she gave up and poured it out. She opted for a bottle of water and the last of the gingersnaps instead.

On her way out of the kitchen, she glanced at Carol's dish resting in the dishrack, clean and dry and waiting to be returned. Beth hesitated and debated with herself on taking it back. But if Daryl could see something different in her face, what would Carol see? She wasn't sure that she was ready for _that_ conversation and the questions that were sure to arise.

Even though a small part of Beth really, really wanted to confide in someone. And in a weird way, Carol had a maternal sort of aura about her, and it only made Beth feel even more vulnerable in her presence. It intrigued her as much as it scared her away.

 _What I wouldn't give to talk to Momma one more time_ , Beth thought sadly.

She finished the gingersnaps and relaxed into the bed with her phone in her hand, scrolling through more research about pregnancy. She'd created a list of realistic possibilities in her mind and had managed to narrow it down to a few viable options, working things out in her head as she learned more. For the next half hour, she stared at the screen of her phone and read all about pregnancy symptoms, complications, costs of doctors and necessary paperwork, the laws in the state of New York concerning all forms of reproduction, and even locations of all the women's clinics in the city.

After about an hour, she found herself reading about adoption laws. She shook herself from the trance and set her phone down, sighing and blinking tiredly. She rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes, the aching in her chest appearing once again.

Without much more thought – because it was becoming more and more painful – Beth picked up her phone and opened Irma's text message. She learned that Irma and Dale were still living it up in the Midwest, visiting some friends they hadn't seen in years. Beth began typing out a text message in response, but she had the strongest urge to hear the voice of someone who cared for her in the way only a mother would.

And she knew she could pray all day, but her momma wasn't answering. Beth wasn't even sure if she was _listening_ anymore. Maybe she was just six feet underground and that was that. Maybe she and Shawn were the only ones who'd truly made it out of the farm.

Beth pressed the Call button and held the phone to her ear. She was slightly trembling, though she didn't know why. Her heart sped up as she listened to the ringing in her ear, doubting her choice more and more with each ring. She was starting to wonder if Irma was busy with her friends. Maybe she'd just be bothering them and she should let the sweet, old couple enjoy their lives without the burden of Beth and her existence –

"Rosie!" Irma's voice came through the phone loudly, and it startled Beth at first. Then she smiled.

"Hi! Um – are you busy?" Beth asked.

"No, no – Dale and I just got done with lunch," Irma said happily, and Beth could hear the smile on her face. "We're meeting some friends later for a barbecue but right now, we're just sittin' back and enjoying the weather! How are you? Is everything alright?"

Then Beth could hear Dale's familiar voice in the background, calling out, "Hi, Rosie!"

"Oh – Dale says hi," Irma said, chuckling.

Beth laughed. "I heard. Tell him I say hi! I'm doing – great, um, sorry I haven't called, I've been kinda busy."

Irma clucked. "Don't worry about it, I understand! Did you find a job? And you're still spending time with those friends? What about the living situation?"

Beth spent the next fifteen minutes talking casually with Irma about her living situation and the friends she'd made, though she was sure not to get too specific with any details. Irma didn't prod, and she seemed genuinely happy for Beth and concerned for her well-being. Beth's eyes watered at some of Irma's comments more than once.

She tiptoed around her giant predicament, trying her best to sound optimistic and hopeful so as not to worry the older woman. But when it came down to it, she couldn't bring herself to say it, or to even attempt at putting it into words. Instead, she retained her sanguine façade and, when her voice finally gave her away, she chose to make the issue appear as small as possible. The last thing Irma and Dale needed was to worry about some fugitive murderer's moral dilemma.

"What is it, honey? Just tell me – you sound so worried about somethin'. I know you called for a reason, not t'hear about _our_ silly old butts," Irma prodded, and Beth swallowed hard.

"I – I dunno," Beth sighed, all the words building up and then crumbling away in her mouth. "It's… I dunno what t'do. I can't seem to… Well, I have a pretty important decision to make, but I'm afraid – um, I'm scared I'll do the totally _wrong_ thing…"

She could hear Irma _tsk_ ing on the other end sympathetically, and her voice grew softer. "Oh, _honey_ … you're not thinkin' of going back to that _guy_ , are you?"

Beth scoffed. "No, of course not! It's not – _that_. I mean… I've tried to move on and forget him, but it's like… everythin' he did was jus' plantin' seeds to pop up and ruin my life later on. I can't just – I can't run away from him like – like I thought…"

Irma was silent for a few seconds and then she said, "Oh, _that_ … Well, you just have to do what you think is best. You're young, you're in a new place, you've been through a lot. Just… take a breath. For _yourself_. Whatever that means. Don't make a decision just 'cause you think it's what somebody else would want. Don't let the fear make your choices for ya, sweetie – you're _strong_. You can do whatever you put your mind to, I know it."

Beth nodded and pursed her lips, forcing back tears. She couldn't get the image of her momma out of her head.

"Thanks," she choked out, and turned away from the phone to sniffle loudly.

"Will you be okay?" Irma asked, still sounding worried. "If you need _anything_ , you know – "

But Beth interjected, "No, no – I'm fine. Thanks. It's really… it's not that bad, ya know. Jus' gotta have faith, I guess."

Irma seemed to accept this but didn't hesitate to voice her concerns a few more times before she and Beth agreed to speak again soon and ended the call. As soon as she set the phone down, Beth burst into tears.

She cried into her hands, sobs wracking her body and tears pouring from her eyes. It felt like it had all been building up and the dam had finally been broken. After a few seconds, she didn't even have an explanation for why she was crying, and then she felt ashamed while she tried to calm down and steady her breathing. She wiped away the tears and grew frustrated, getting up and going to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. Something about talking to Irma and hearing someone's genuine, motherly advice had been the one thing to really push Beth over the edge. She was glad the apartment was empty.

Beth was on her way back to the bedroom, walking through the hall after she'd gotten her face to return to its normal color. Her eyes glanced across the kitchen, as usual, but this time they paused on the plate sitting in the dishrack. She stopped and stood in silent contemplation for a second.

What was it about Beth that Carol thought gingersnaps would help? Was it that mythical "pregnant glow" she'd heard about? Or was it the way her face was always flushed from either needing to throw up or having just been throwing up? Maybe Carol could spot signs that other people couldn't?

" _The women in my family have been eatin' 'em for generations,_ " Carol had said.

 _Who?_ Beth thought. _The_ _ **pregnant**_ _women in your family? And here I thought she just liked gingersnaps and made too many. But then she went on to ask me if I felt okay… She_ _ **knew**_ _I wasn't hungover…_

Shaking her head, Beth went into her bedroom and sat down on the bed, mind racing. She put her face in her hands and tried to focus. But everything was clustered, it all felt like too much. She thought she might explode from everything she was holding inside. She'd thought talking to Irma would help her to feel better, but it had only made her more forlorn. And crying only made her want to cry harder, which was a slippery slope she wanted to avoid.

At her core, she knew what she needed to do. What she _had_ to do. But she'd have to do some digging and pull back a lot of layers to get there. To feel sure about anything.

Before she could change her mind, Beth got up and changed into real clothes, slipping her phone into her pocket. She went to the kitchen and grabbed Carol's plate, then headed out the front door and straight across the hall to the door of apartment 3B. She almost hesitated with her hand at the door, ready to knock, but she willed herself to rap on the wood. Then she stood and waited, nervously turning the plate over and over in her hands as she stared at the door.

A few seconds later, she could hear Carol approaching on the other side, then the lock was clicking and the door was opening. Beth swallowed back tears as she stared at the short-haired older woman standing before her, a look of pleasant surprise on Carol's face.

"Rosie, hey," Carol greeted with a smile, glancing at the plate in Beth's hands. "Oh, just bringing the plate by?"

Beth shrugged. "Um… yeah. I – thanks for the cookies. They were really good."

Why was she wimping out now? She scolded herself silently and pushed back against the dread building inside her.

Carol continued smiling, holding her hand out for the plate. "No problem, glad you liked 'em."

Beth handed the plate over and Carol took it, then paused and watched Beth as if she'd expected her to turn and leave. Beth could see Carol's eyes studying her, and she willed herself to speak.

"Is there… somethin' else?" Carol asked, furrowing her brow. "Are you feeling okay?"

She was growing concerned and Beth could tell, so she swallowed and looked away from Carol's piercing blue eyes in order to muster enough courage to say what she needed to say. It came out weakly and a bit jumbled, but she pushed it out nonetheless.

"I… I need your help. Or – _somebody's_ help. I dunno who – I-I dunno where t'go, or who to… talk to. It's… kinda serious."

Carol's face grew even more concerned, but she looked like she already understood. She glanced behind her into the apartment, then stepped aside and gestured for Beth to step inside.

"C'mon, come sit down," she urged, leading Beth to the couch after closing the front door and setting the plate on the kitchen bar. "Sophia's at school and Malachi's down for his nap, so we won't be interrupted."

The two women sat together on the couch, leaving half of a cushion's worth of space between them. Carol leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, giving Beth her full attention. Beth felt herself shrinking under her gaze, and she wondered if Carol had any idea how intimidating she could be sometimes.

The TV was on but left at a low volume and Beth could smell cookies in the air. Carol's apartment was warm and cozy, but not too warm, and something about the calm setting made Beth relax just slightly into the couch. She mulled over her words, any sort of sentences she might've had prepared long gone by now. It felt like half her brain – and courage – had stayed behind in the hallway.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" Carol asked quietly, her voice steady and soothing.

Beth shook her head. "No – well, not really. It's… somethin' that happened before I left. Before I got to the city."

Carol furrowed her brow and Beth could see her playing a silent guessing game. "Okay… well, you don't have to tell me. But if it's something you need – just tell me that. Tell me what I can do t'help."

Beth swallowed and looked down at her hands in her lap, picking at her fingernails anxiously. She wished there were some way to get the help she needed without having to reveal specifics. But there just wasn't any way around it.

"I… have nowhere else to go," Beth said, her voice coming out strained and quiet. Carol leaned in to hear her better. "I… Can you promise you won't… _tell_ anyone?"

"You mean Daryl?" Carol asked softly.

Beth nodded without hesitating, still looking down at her lap. " _Especially_ him."

She saw Carol nodding in her peripherals. "Of course I won't. No one. _Especially_ not Daryl."

Beth took a deep breath and tried to find the right words. She was still asking herself if she could _really_ trust Carol, but then again, wasn't she way past that by now?

"I'm… pregnant," Beth finally said, and the word spilled from her mouth like vomit. Hearing it aloud made her want to _actually_ vomit.

She cringed and shut her eyes for a second, and when she opened them, she met Carol's gaze. But her face didn't appear as shocked as Beth had expected. In fact, she looked more relieved than surprised.

"Is that it?" Carol asked gently.

Beth nodded, biting down on the inside of her cheek. What else was there to say? Wasn't it pretty obvious that she had a _huge_ problem on her hands?

"Well, I guessed that much," Carol said, and gave Beth a small, reassuring smile.

Beth raised her eyebrows and choked back her shock. She still felt like she could start pulling her own hair out any moment, and the itch on her wrist kept coming and going. But seeing Carol's expression calmed her a bit, and she began to think that maybe, if this woman wasn't appalled by her secret, then just _maybe_ it wasn't as much of a disaster as she'd thought.

"How far along are you?" Carol asked.

Beth shrugged and swallowed hard. "Uh… I dunno, exactly. Probably… a month, I think."

She watched Carol furrow her brow again. "Wait – you _just_ found out?"

Beth nodded, eyes growing wider. Had she really thought Beth was trying to hide a pregnancy since the moment she got here? As if she would've thought that was even _possible_?

"Uh… _yeah_ ," Beth said.

Carol sighed sadly and stared at Beth with a pitying look in her eyes. It riled up a tiny flare of anger inside Beth and she had to look away, down at her hands again.

"Oh… honey," Carol muttered quietly. "From… your ex?"

Beth nodded without looking up, picking at her fingernails.

"I thought… you _knew_ already," Carol explained. "I could see it in your face this whole last week. Then Daryl said you haven't been feelin' well… Wasn't hard t'figure out – but I didn't realize…"

She sighed again and paused, but Beth didn't even want to talk. She kind of wanted to stand up and leave, go back to her bedroom and back into hiding.

"So what do you wanna do?" Carol asked, and Beth hadn't been expecting to hear that next.

She raised her head and looked at Carol. "I… have no idea."

 _Well, I have a lot of ideas, actually. But none of them make any sense when I think too hard, and you'd never be able to understand the full gravity of the situation anyway, since you have no idea that I'm a wanted fugitive who is right in the middle of trying to flee the fucking country,_ Beth thought sourly.

A few moments of heavy silence passed, and Carol seemed to be giving Beth time to think and mull things over. She watched as Beth looked back down at her hands thoughtfully.

"Did you do any research?" Carol asked softly.

Beth didn't look up, mumbling, "Yeah… a lot…"

 _Too much,_ she thought. _I know just about every conceivable thing that could go wrong in this pregnancy._

Another few moments of silence and Carol seemed to be in no rush whatsoever to move the conversation along. Beth appreciated that, and she thought it was probably a good trait to have in someone who wanted to be a counselor.

"Okay… D'you have any questions, maybe that I can answer?" Carol asked, her voice apprehensive.

Beth shook her head, still not looking up. "Not… really…"

More long silence. But it wasn't silent at all because Beth's mind was still running a hundred miles a minute. Her heart was nearly keeping up at the same rate.

"Are you… wanting to _keep_ it?" Carol asked, and her voice was even quieter than before.

Without much hesitation, Beth shook her head.

 _Totally outta the question,_ she thought, and something inside her knew with great conviction that Maggie would agree on this one. _There's no possible fucking way. I can already imagine holding my first child in my arms and staring down at it and seeing…_ _ **him**_ _. Seeing the farm. Seeing August Eleventh... That day would become a milestone in the baby's conception. If not for them, then for me. I might love them, but they'd always remind me of how careless I was and how many mistakes I made, of all the hurt I caused and felt… I may be strong, but I'm not_ _ **that**_ _strong… I don't know_ _ **anyone**_ _who is._

Carol seemed to understand without explanation, though, and Beth saw her nodding from her peripherals. There was another long bout of silence, as if they were both mulling over the remaining options together.

"Okay, so there's… adoption…?" Carol worded it like a statement but the way she said the last word made it sound like a suggestion that she was looking for an opinion on.

Beth scratched at her wrist absent-mindedly. _Yeah, carry a baby to full-term, go through this miserable pregnancy while I'm also running from the cops. Try to get a fake ID, try to find a doctor who won't recognize me… Put myself on all kinds of hospital cameras, all over medical records… Try to find a family that wants a baby in a country where there's over a hundred-thousand kids already waiting to be adopted… And then what? Even if I make it, then I still have to leave the country. I can't stay. I can't keep in contact with them… God forbid, they recognize me one day. What if the kid grows up and puts two-and-two together? Do I really think I'm capable of moving to an entirely different country while knowing I left behind a child with half my DNA in America? I can't do that… I can't abandon a baby that never asked to be here… I could never_ _ **live**_ _with myself. That would eat me alive eventually… It already is._

She sighed tiredly and heard Carol taking in a deep breath. But she didn't say anything. Beth could feel the older woman's eyes on her, but she was still focused on her own train of thought. It was all the same things she'd been thinking about in her bedroom, all coming from the same list she'd already mentally formed. But now it felt like Carol was holding a big, red pen and helping Beth cross out the options and make her way down the list until she found the only plausible solution. Somehow, her brain seemed to think more clearly and fluidly as she sat on Carol's couch, the other woman's presence comforting her.

"I mean, you don't even have to make a decision right away," Carol explained softly. "Not that I'd advise it, but… you can always change your mind. If you have it, and you don't think you can do it – there's other options. You can still adopt it out. You can even leave it at a fire station, like the old days. No questions asked – it's all completely legal… No one will judge you for whatever you decide. No one _can_ judge you."

Beth almost laughed aloud. _Yeah, right. That'd be even worse than having to pick a family and lie to them. I'd still be leaving behind my own flesh-and-blood, except there'd be way more questions. "No questions asked" never actually means that… Someone would poke around, get nosey, get curious. Or the kid would put it together eventually... I can just imagine the field day they'd all have if they used my abandoned baby's DNA to track me down. Dear God… what kind of person would I be to just abandon a baby I carried like that?_ _ **Everyone**_ _would judge me. That baby would hate me – and for good reason._ _ **I**_ _would hate me._

Beth's stomach was turning and she shook her head, dismissing the suggestion completely.

A few seconds of silence and then Carol said, almost in a whisper, "Then there's… abortion."

Beth raised her head at this and met Carol's eyes. She expected a look of judgment or dismay or just plain disappointment, but there was none. She looked exactly the same as when she'd suggested keeping the pregnancy to full-term. Beth swallowed hard and blinked, but didn't nod or shake her head decisively. She was studying Carol, still unsure of whether she was serious or not.

But she raised her eyebrows and watched Beth expectantly, and when Beth didn't say anything for a solid minute, she added, "Those are… your options. I wish I had more for you, and I know they all seem… really _shitty_. But – well, you don't have any questions? I wanna help any way I can, Rosie…"

Beth remained silent and thoughtful, but she was battling with herself on the inside. She'd come to the same conclusion on her own, and it seemed even more logical right now, in the comfortable haze of Carol's apartment. The word didn't even sound dirty coming from her mouth. Beth had always been taught to believe that was a taboo subject altogether. It was forbidden, one of the most heinous sins. But admittedly, she'd done worse to protect her family… Hadn't she?

Yet all she could keep thinking was, _What if…? What if… what if…_

"Whatever you decide, I can help," Carol said. "I have a lot of friends around here. A lot of resources. There's tons of people who've been in your _exact_ situation… You're not alone."

 _Oh, but I am_ , Beth thought resentfully. _No matter what I decide, I'll always be the one who has to live with it. I'm alone. I'm_ _ **really**_ _alone._

But she nodded and looked down at her lap. She scratched her wrist and realized it was red from her fingernails. She stopped herself and muttered, "Okay… I think… How can I do it?"

She looked up to see Carol raising her eyebrows, a bit taken aback at Beth's sudden resoluteness. She spoke slowly and clearly, like she was measuring each word. "Well, what do you think you wanna look into…?"

Beth blinked and cleared her throat, unsure of why there were tears building behind her eyes. "Um… ab-abortion. I-I think I need… t'get rid of it. I can't – I can't keep it. I just… _can't_ …"

 _I can't have any more connection to him,_ she finished in her head. _I can't give birth to a living ghost of the past I ran away from._

She expected more questions and she was reflexively building a defense and an explanation in her head, but Carol didn't ask for it. She just nodded and gave Beth a reassuring smile.

"Okay," she said simply, as if they were planning a lunch date. "I'll call my friend and get an appointment for you."

 _That easily?_ Beth thought.

"But, I don't have any ID, or anythin'," she started, an intricate lie already planned out in her head since long before she finally pushed herself to knock on Carol's door. "I – I don't wanna risk him findin' me if I…"

Carol put up her hand dismissively and shook her head. "I know. Don't worry about it. No one even has to know your _name_."

Beth raised her eyebrows in disbelief, swallowing all the words she'd been prepared to recite. "Really?"

Carol put on another reassuring smile. "Like I said, don't worry about it. I told you, I can help. You don't have t'explain yourself to me… Okay?"

Beth nodded hesitantly and the women gazed at each other for a moment, sharing an unspoken understanding and gratitude.

"D'you want a couple days to think about it?" Carol started to ask softly. "Maybe we go on Monday – "

But Beth stopped her and said, "No – as soon as possible. If you can… please. I… don't wanna change my mind. I know what I need t'do…"

Carol pursed her lips and nodded, and Beth could see through her polite smile. She thought Beth needed more time.

But what did _she_ know about this decision?

She didn't argue, though. She continued smiling and nodded. "Okay. I'll call her later today, maybe she can make you an appointment tomorrow morning. They might have time for you in the afternoon… if you want."

Carol made it clear that she wasn't rushing Beth and that she could say no. But Beth nodded and said decisively, "Yeah. I do… Thank you."

Carol nodded and her polite smile finally faded and was replaced by a real one. Then she stood up and began strolling to the kitchen.

"You want something t'drink? Some cookies?" She offered, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "Oatmeal raisin today."

Beth was still reeling from their conversation but she felt stuck to the couch, frozen in her own little bubble of thought. She answered weakly, "Sure…"

"Tea? Water? Juice?" Carol asked, rummaging around in the cupboards. " _Wine_?"

She chuckled at her little joke but Beth didn't find it very funny. In all honesty, she could probably chug a whole _bottle_ of wine right now.

"Tea sounds nice," she said, loudly enough that Carol could hear her from the kitchen.

Carol returned a couple of minutes later with a tray holding napkins, two glasses of sweet tea, and a small plate of cookies. She set it down on the coffee table and held one of the glasses out for Beth to take, which she did.

"Thank you," she mumbled, taking a long sip. The taste reminded her of summers on the front porch of the farmhouse.

Carol nodded and took a grateful drink from her own glass, setting it down carefully and sighing in relief. "Sorry, I really needed a drink. And you look hungry – have a cookie. I can make you a sandwich, if you want…?"

Beth shook her head and smiled politely, setting her glass down on the coffee table and carefully picking up a cookie and a napkin. "Oh – no, this is fine. Thanks."

She nibbled on the cookie and felt Carol's eyes still on her. The older woman watched her take a few bites before she spoke again.

"You don't have any more questions?" She asked, eyes softening. "Ya know, you can ask me _whatever_ you want, I'll give you an unbiased answer. And you can still think about it… there's still time. You're early on – "

There'd really only been one major question in Beth's head, and she wasn't sure that Carol would have an answer for it. It was more of a private moral dilemma. She'd already read most everything she could find about abortion. It wasn't even the procedure that terrified her the most – it was the risk of being seen, or recognized, or documented. It was the feeling of being a lost soul in God's eyes. It was the aftermath, and how she'd be able to cope with her own thoughts and feelings after it was all said and done. There was always some sort of downfall to her choices, and now that she was expecting it, she didn't know how she was supposed to be prepared.

Maybe it was the sudden, small sugar boost she was getting from the tea and cookies, but Beth interjected and asked, "D'you think… it makes me _evil_? To do this…"

She couldn't think of a more suitable word right now. Evil felt right. She knew she was already practically evil after what she'd done on the farm. But this… this was an entirely different kind of choice, and whatever she chose was solely because of her own selfish reasons. She wasn't saving anyone with this decision except _herself_. Was that enough reason to go against everything she'd been taught to believe?

Carol didn't answer for what felt like a long time, and Beth looked up hesitantly from her cookie to see the older woman studying Beth's face thoughtfully. There was a trace of sadness in her expression. She blinked and gave Beth a small smile.

"No. I don't," Carol said matter-of-factly. "Do you feel like it makes you evil?"

Beth averted her eyes back to the cookie in her hand. _Here we go with the counselor shit_ , she thought.

She took another small bite and chewed slowly before replying, "I dunno… Kinda."

Carol reached over and picked up her glass to take another swig of sweet tea. Beth awaited another question or more prodding, but it didn't come. She finished her cookie and looked up to see that Carol was still watching her, studying her. Observing her.

 _Stop trying to figure me out. You can't._

"That's what you were taught, huh?" Carol finally asked.

Beth nodded. Not that it was difficult to guess. She didn't hide the cross around her necklace, and she and Carol had discussed something similar not long ago. It wasn't like there were tons of churches that promoted a pro-choice mindset.

Carol sighed as if it were something that exhausted and saddened her. She spoke gently, "Life isn't so black-and-white. Period. And when it comes to this sin, in particular… well, I'm no expert. I believe, like you. I also have faith… I have faith that God wouldn't want us to be prisoners in our own bodies. Under _any_ circumstances. Ever."

To Beth's surprise, Carol's words rang through her and felt reassuring. She didn't know what her daddy would say, she wasn't positive what Maggie would say, and God only knows what her momma would think if _she_ were alive. But _Beth_ was the one who had to live with it. _She_ was the one who had to deal with whatever consequences came next. And she felt a common thread that connected her and Carol's faith.

After a couple of seconds of contemplation, Carol added softly, "No matter what I've been taught over the years, I just… can't even force myself to believe that God sent us here to suffer."

Beth couldn't help but think that her daddy would agree… Wouldn't he?

 _I've already sinned in a way that can't be forgiven,_ she thought, oddly optimistic. _Maybe some things really_ _ **are**_ _accidents. Maybe some things really are just meant to be… tests. Of strength. Or perserverance? One hell of a test, but… shit. What kind of god would test me like this? Maybe Daryl has a point, after all… Or maybe it's just a punishment. Maybe I wasn't sent here to suffer, but I made my own suffering. Maybe this is just one of many punishments that I've brought upon myself…_

She knew her guilt wouldn't fade away that easily. She'd have to sit with it, live with it, sleep with it. She'd have to learn to work her way around it, or at least navigate it and figure out where it would take her next. Like Carol said, she could always change her mind.

But she had a feeling that there was really only one option in this situation. And for the first time in her life, Beth Greene would have to learn to put herself first.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Y'all already guessed that Carol knew, and of course you were right lmao but I didn't wanna spoil the surprise of her and Beth's conversation - and the surprise of Beth actually seeking out help.  
The title of this chapter, as well as the next 3 chapters, are all taken from the song " _I'll Get My Just Deserve_ " by Touche Amore and La Dispute. Once again, it fits these chapters rather perfectly.  
I'm excited for y'all to see what's to come in the next 3 chapters. I already have them written and chapter 32 will be posted in the next 2-3 days! Thanks to everyone for reviewing, following, favoriting. If you're reading, let me know that you're liking it! Reviews encourage me to write more, even if you say nothing but "WOW!" or whatever! :D


	32. thoughts of moving forward with the fear

_**thoughts of moving forward with the fear of falling;**_

Beth spent the rest of Malachi's nap time at Carol's, mostly sitting in silence and watching TV while she ate the food Carol pushed on her. Before she left, she'd accepted a sandwich out of politeness. But once she was back inside apartment 3A, she found herself grateful for having eaten it. Her stomach felt more settled despite the raging storm that continued inside her head.

Carol had urged her to stop by the next morning and discuss her next move. Beth agreed, but she had a feeling that Carol was expecting her to change her mind. Beth hoped it wouldn't stop Carol from contacting her friend, because she definitely didn't plan on changing her mind overnight. She'd known, somewhere in her head, that this was the only _real_ choice. But her conversation with Carol had cemented it. And Beth was nothing if not stubborn – her family would attest to that.

 _Would_ … if they could.

 _Maybe they are. I can see Maggie spittin' in the pigs' faces and telling them they'll never find me unless I_ _ **wanna**_ _be found,_ she thought with the tiniest smirk.

She felt tired again after all the emotional and mental energy she'd spent. But she was starting to understand that it was probably the pregnancy, as well. The little parasite inside her had sapped her of energy for at least the last week. She wound up napping for a couple of hours, dozing on the couch before she moved to her bed. The conversation with Carol kept replaying in her mind every moment that she was awake, and the weight of her decision was heavy inside her chest.

The only thing that distracted her, besides sleep, was finding a text message back from Daryl. It had taken him a few hours and Beth had nearly forgotten he'd texted her in the first place. She read:

 _Busy as hell. I'll make supper when I get home. See you tonight._

She smiled weakly to herself but decided against responding, not wanting to bother him while he was working. But six o'clock still seemed so far away.

When she found herself lying in bed, staring at the wall and wishing Daryl and Malachi would walk through the door, she picked up her phone again and began researching everything she could find about abortion. It only took about fifteen minutes of that before she was turning over and closing her eyes again, fighting the rising bile in her throat. Her thighs were instinctively clenched together.

She dozed on and off as the apartment grew darker, the sun setting outside. At one point, she awoke to find another new text message. This one was from Clementine, and it read:

 _We're going to go get lunch together after class on Saturday if you want to come. And I think I might be free on Friday ! Want to hang out then?_

Beth blinked and adjusted her eyes, taking a moment to wake up and comprehend what she'd read. Then she sleepily typed out a response that said, " _Sounds great. Friday would be cool! Lmk if you can._ "

She pressed Send and tossed her phone aside again, rolling over and quickly drifting off.

Somehow, she fell into a deep sleep this time, and it kept her in a dark and dreamless state for several hours. By the time she opened her eyes again, her bedroom was completely dark and she could hear the faint sound of the TV coming from the living room. She blinked in confusion and stretched out her stiff muscles, rolling over and looking at the clock. She was shocked to see that it was 8:45.

 _How did I stay asleep so long?_ She wondered, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She ran a hand through her messy hair and grabbed her phone to find no new messages.

Disappointed in herself for sleeping well past Malachi's bedtime and missing out on dinner and reading, Beth got up and wandered to the bedroom door. She opened it slowly and quietly, peeking her head out to see Daryl sitting on the couch in the living room. He didn't seem to hear or notice her until she approached the couch and sat down beside him, leaving a few inches of space between their legs.

"Hey," he said quietly, looking at her.

She met his gaze to find him studying her, and she gave him a weak smile. "Hey."

He raised an eyebrow and asked, "Ya alright?"

Beth nodded. "Yeah – sorry, I fell asleep. I dunno what happened…"

"Checked in on ya when supper was ready, but ya didn't budge an' you looked pretty tired, so I left ya be," he explained, his voice hushed. "Left a plate in the microwave, if yer hungry."

She smiled again without much effort. "Thanks. I guess I didn't even hear you. Sorry…"

Daryl shrugged. "Don't worry 'bout it. Sure yer alright?"

 _No_ , Beth thought.

"Yeah, 'course," she said, pausing only for a second before adding, "How was work?"

"Good. Kept me busy," he grumbled, studying her face again.

She glanced behind the couch toward the coat rack by the front door and saw the wings of the vest facing outward from where it hung neatly on the rack. She looked back to Daryl and raised her eyebrows. "Did Dwight like your vest?"

Daryl smirked and his expression looked content and sleepy as he gazed back at her. "Yeah. Like a blast from the past – he thought I'd found a duplicate, but I told him it's _gotta_ be the same one. And it is."

Beth furrowed her brow. "From Georgia? He recognized it?"

He nodded. "It was the uh, only thing my brother ever really gave me. 'Fore he got inta drugs an' all that shit… his initials are still sewn inta the inside of it. Real small, hard ta find, but it's there."

"Oh," she said quietly, unsure of how else to react. At least that explained the deeper meaning it held. She hadn't intended to gift him a giant piece of nostalgia, but it seemed to have reminded him of better times rather than worse, so she couldn't be upset.

A few seconds of silence passed, then Daryl said, more quietly, "Sometimes I think Luce mighta donated it on purpose. She didn't want me fallin' back inta the place I was at when I lived in Georgia. Jus' wanted t'protect me, I reckon…"

Beth could tell there was a lot more darkness in Daryl's past that was going untold, but she didn't pry. She was almost reeling from hearing him speak his ex's name aloud. But she just nodded and replied softly, "She loved you… only makes sense she'd wanna try to protect you."

He nodded and leaned forward, reaching out and picking up a small glass of whiskey he had sitting on the coffee table and taking a sip. Then he swiftly leaned back, glass in one hand, and let himself slide a few inches closer to Beth, closing the distance between them until his leg was touching hers. He rested his other hand gently on her thigh and she felt her cheeks heating up.

The parasite inside her was quiet and nearly forgotten while she sat in comfortable silence with Daryl and idly watched a rerun of that zombie show he liked. They remained like that for at least twenty minutes, content with each other's presence. And for possibly the first time, Beth wasn't thinking about any sort of tension between them – sexual or otherwise. With everything else on her mind, sex was about the last thing she had any desire for at the moment. It was comforting just to sit with someone who was warm and made her feel safe and relaxed.

Her stomach was feeling rather empty so she eventually stood up and wandered into the kitchen to find the plate of dinner that Daryl had left for her in the microwave. It was still luke warm, so she heated it up for about thirty seconds. While the microwave whirred, she stepped closer to the couch and glanced at the glass resting on the coffee table.

"Need another?" She asked, pointing to it as Daryl turned around in his seat to look at her.

He glanced toward the glass, then reached over and grabbed it, handing it to her. "Sure – thanks."

Beth nodded and smiled, returning to the kitchen to pour a little more whiskey into the glass and retrieve her warm plate from the microwave. She returned to the living room and handed him his drink, hearing him grumble out, "Thanks." Then she sat down next to him, making sure to get just as close as before, and perched the plate on her lap while she slowly ate, absent-mindedly watching TV at the same time.

She was grateful for Daryl's cooking because it seemed to be just the right thing to agree with her stomach tonight, and she looked over at him between bites to give him a small smile.

"Thanks for leavin' me a plate," she said, stabbing her fork into another piece of food.

He nodded and sipped his whiskey. "Don't mention it. Good ta see ya eatin'."

After swallowing another bite, she frowned and looked at him again. "Did you guys read without me?"

She couldn't hide the hint of disappointment in her voice, and she was sure Daryl noticed it because he smirked a little.

"No, we watched a movie tonight," he assured her. "Kid didn't even _want_ me ta read this time. Said if it wasn't you, then he'd rather jus' skip it altogether."

Beth couldn't hold back a giggle at hearing this. "No, he didn't…?"

Daryl nodded. "Oh, he did. That boy gets _dramatic_ , trust me."

She chuckled again and he joined her, but a part of her was happy that Malachi seemed to like her as much as she liked him.

Or was that something she should be _concerned_ about…?

Beth finished her plate with a lingering smile on her face, feeling Daryl's eyes on her every couple of minutes. When she was done, she took the plate to the kitchen and grabbed a water before returning to her spot on the couch. She wasn't sure if it was the food or something else, but she felt more relaxed than she had all day. The dread that was consistently building inside her seemed to be sleeping for now. She knew it would poke its head back up once the sun rose, but for now, she could enjoy another night of something that resembled normalcy. With Daryl.

They continued watching TV in comfortable silence, and Beth eventually leaned into Daryl until his arm was around her and she was scooted in close against his side. He sipped whiskey from the glass in his other hand and occasionally chuckled at something in the show. The time slipped by before she'd even noticed it. She was enveloped in a private cocoon of contentment, made up of Daryl's warmth and the smell of leather and whiskey and whatever soap he'd used that evening.

Her eyelids grew heavy and she was struggling to stay awake, the combination of Daryl's body heat and her level of comfort lulling her into sleep. His fingers absent-mindedly traced up and down on her arm and sent soothing tingles through her body. She could feel herself falling asleep for the hundredth time in one day, but then her eyes were far too weak to stay open and she wasn't fighting it anymore.

Beth's eyes fluttered open and she awoke to find the apartment still dark, but it was much later. She was no longer nuzzled into Daryl's side, but stretched out on the couch, on her back with Daryl practically wrapped around her and his head resting on her chest. She quickly realized he'd fallen asleep, too, and she glanced around to see that the TV was still on, playing informercials now, and the glass of whiskey was sitting empty on the coffee table. Then she saw the clock and blinked her eyes until she could make out the numbers to find that it was 1:34.

Daryl was still breathing steadily and Beth didn't want to wake him, but her leg was stuck beneath him at an odd angle and a serious cramp was developing. She also knew he had to work in the morning and probably didn't want to sleep on the couch all night. So, hesitantly, she began nudging him, starting out gently and growing a bit more persistent until he was coming to and opening his eyes. He slowly lifted his head and groaned in exhaustion, looking around like Beth had done just a moment before.

It took a few seconds, but Daryl oriented himself and sat up, freeing Beth's leg and allowing her to sit up as well. She sighed in relief and he rubbed his eyes, then looked over at her in a sleepy haze.

"Shit," he grumbled. "Guess we both fell asleep."

Beth cleared her throat. "Yeah. You were really comfy, I couldn't help it."

He grunted in a half-chuckle, reaching over and grabbing the remote to turn off the TV. "Better get t'bed. Gotta be up in a few hours."

She nodded and rubbed her eyes, standing up and stretching out the rest of her body. Daryl stood and picked up his empty glass, taking it to the kitchen while Beth headed toward her bedroom.

She hesitated and left her bedroom door open for a bit, but then she saw the rest of the lights in the living room being turned off and heard his footsteps heading back to the bedroom at the end of the hall. She reminded herself that they were still roommates and she shouldn't expect much more, especially so soon. She wasn't even sure why she'd left the door open in the first place.

After shutting her bedroom door and turning off the bedside lamp, Beth crawled into bed and relaxed into the mattress. It was miles better than the couch, but it felt cold. And her stomach was beginning to wake up and grow angry again, making her regret getting up and moving at all. She wished she'd just stayed on the couch with Daryl and gone back to sleep.

She picked up her phone and scrolled through the news sites for a few minutes, though she didn't find anything and hadn't expected to anyway. Her mind was awake and overworking again and she was desperate to ease it. Sometimes she just had to lie there and take the silent self-punishment for a while until she could drift off.

Her phone sat on the nightstand, dark and quiet like the rest of the bedroom. Beth closed her eyes and tried to focus on steadying her breathing. She could still smell that familiar scent she attributed to Daryl.

Then there was a sound at the door and her eyes popped open, heart racing for just a second until she saw the shaggy-haired silhouette slipping inside her bedroom. He left the door ajar and moved silently across the carpet, no more than a sliver of the stove light leaking into the bedroom. It was so dark, she figured he probably couldn't even see that her eyes were open and staring at him as he approached. Then he was right beside the bed and leaning down, reaching out carefully, and she was able to see his face and his sleep-mussed hair.

"Scoot over," he whispered out, placing his hand gently on her arm through the comforter. He met her eyes and she realized he'd somehow known she was still awake.

Beth was smiling as she scooted backward across the mattress. Once she made room, Daryl lifted the edge of the comforter and slipped into bed beneath it, scooting in close to her. Then they were cuddled together, much like they'd been on the couch. He was even warmer than before, and the bed didn't feel nearly as cold anymore.

"Thought you'd wanna sleep in your own bed for a night," she whispered, her words landing softly on the pillows beneath their heads.

He turned his head to face her and she saw how low his eyelids were drooping. His voice was heavy with sleep when he whispered back, "Jus' had ta check on the kid. Ya want me t'sleep in my own bed?"

Beth smirked again. "No."

He turned his head back and closed his eyes, grunting out, "Me either."

There was a sheepish smile appearing on Beth's face but Daryl wasn't looking at her anymore. She pressed herself closer against him and rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply. His broad chest relaxed beneath her and he brought a hand up to gently grab her chin and nudge her to face him.

She did, lifting her head slightly and turning to look at him, finding his eyes open and staring down at her from beneath the same heavy eyelids. His lips were barely parted and she stared at him questioningly for a second, his thumb and index finger still lightly holding her chin. Then he craned his neck to lean in and kiss her and she quickly closed her eyes to kiss him back. He lingered on her mouth, breathing her in much like the way she subconsciously breathed him in.

When they parted, his fingers lingered on her chin and he gazed down at her with an expression she couldn't quite recognize. No one had ever looked at her like that, let alone a man. She didn't know how to interpret it… but it felt nice. _Really_ nice.

"Been waitin' for you t'do that all day," she whispered with a half-smile.

He smirked, his gaze deepening for a moment and sending chills down her arms. Then he tore his eyes off of her to rest his head back against the pillow and close them again. Beth followed suit, her head returning to its spot on his chest. Her stomach was still fluttering, but it wasn't trying to evacuate its contents for a change.

She relaxed without having to think about it. There was a warmth running through her that had been sparked by the look Daryl had on his face as he stared back at her in the dark. And just like the meaning of his expression, she couldn't quite place what this feeling was. Then her mind slowed along with her breathing and heartrate, and Beth fell asleep before she could really commit the feeling to memory.

* * *

Beth only dipped into consciousness long enough to feel Daryl giving her a kiss goodbye and hear him whisper, "See ya tonight." And when she actually woke up, it took her a while to figure out whether it had really happened or if she'd just dreamt it. But then she found a text message on her phone from Daryl, which had coincidentally arrived just a few minutes before she awoke. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and read:

 _Let me know if you need anything tonight._

This assured her that she hadn't dreamt up his goodbye kiss. She set her phone aside and took a few more moments to wake up, but her stomach was beginning to form knots at the thought of what the day might hold. It was shortly after nine in the morning, so she decided to get up and get dressed before she drifted off again. She knew that if she fell back to sleep, she wouldn't wake until noon.

After a quick shower, Beth put on some clothes and made herself presentable while a fresh pot of coffee brewed. By the time she'd finished a cup – only fighting the urge to vomit about three times – she headed across the hall to Carol's with nothing more than the phone in her pocket. The coffee was sloshing around angrily in her stomach and she tried to ignore the burning at the back of her throat. She needed the caffeine too badly to pass up coffee today.

As she stood in front of the door to 3B and knocked, that familiar cramp appeared below her abdomen. She bit down on her lip, wanting nothing more than to punch herself in the gut right now.

 _Just shut up, just go away,_ she thought scornfully. _Aren't you making me sick enough as it is…_

Carol appeared with a smile and urged Beth inside. "You want some breakfast? Juice? Milk?"

Beth shrugged and approached the bar of the kitchen, hesitantly sitting atop one of the seats. "Um, I'm not feelin' that great this morning but yeah, I'll take some toast, I guess… Thank you."

Carol nodded in understanding and went into the kitchen, setting about making Beth some toast and pouring her a glass of something that looked like it was probably ginger ale. Beth looked around, finding the TV still playing cartoons on mute but no sign of Malachi.

She turned back to look at Carol and started, "Where's – "

Carol met Beth's eyes and pressed a finger to her own lips briefly, then said in a slightly hushed voice, "I put him in Sophia's room with the iPad when I saw you were here. I almost never let him use it, so he'll be distracted while we talk."

Beth nodded and she understood that neither of them needed to explain aloud why they were keeping Beth's visit a bit of a secret from the toddler. The last thing Beth needed right now was more questions from Daryl. She was grateful to Carol for thinking to prepare beforehand. She hated to admit it, but she'd been a little worried, at first, that confiding in Carol would eventually lead back to Daryl. But it seemed that she was taking this very seriously, and didn't consider Daryl to be a part of it at all – which he wasn't.

Either way, Beth was grateful for Carol's generosity and compassion. Once again, she couldn't help but think that God had blessed her in at least a few ways. But at this point, was it to give her a fighting chance, or just to watch her struggle all that much more? Like those old cartoons where they'd dangle a carrot in front of the horse to get it running faster.

Carol placed a small plate with two pieces of perfectly buttered, golden-brown toast on the counter in front of Beth, along with a tall glass of what turned out to be nothing less than ginger ale. Beth smiled and thanked her, then tentatively nibbled on the toast and took a few sips of the ginger ale. It actually turned out to be a good defense against her nausea, at least for the time being.

She idly watched the short-haired woman moving about the kitchen, cleaning up dishes and leisurely wiping down countertops. She was beginning to wonder if she'd have to bring it up first, but then Carol spoke as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

"I called my friend last night," she said, glancing over and briefly meeting Beth's eyes to check that she was listening. "She said we can stop by this afternoon, if you want."

Beth's eyes widened and she looked down at the plate in front of her, the toast suddenly becoming bland in her mouth. She forced down the bite and asked, "That soon…?"

Carol approached the opposite side of the bar and set her mug down on the countertop, facing Beth and resting her elbows on the edge of the bar. "Oh – no, it'd just be for a blood test and a pelvic exam. Only if you want, though. If you need more time…"

"Oh, right," Beth mumbled, still staring down at her plate and holding the toast meaninglessly in her hand. Of course they'd want to do a real test and see how far along she was. How could she forget that part. "No – yeah, that'd be good. Let's – today would… work."

"Like I said, if you need more time," Carol started.

Beth finally lifted her head and looked back at Carol, hoping her face was showing something close to determination. "No, I wanna get it over with. I mean, this is step one, right?"

Carol pursed her lips and nodded, then smiled softly. "Right. Then we can go from there."

Beth nodded and set her toast down, looking away from Carol's eyes and busying herself with taking another drink. But a large knot had formed in her throat and now she was dreading every single part of this. Her heart raced at the thought of looking at a black-and-white blob on a monitor and knowing that it was hers. Her… _something_. Her parasite. Her mistake. Her violation, emobodied. Somehow, not being able to see it was the only thing keeping it from being _really_ real.

A long moment of tense silence passed, then Beth asked, "Where's it at?"

"The Bronx," Carol replied, sipping her coffee. "We can take the bus. You have a metro card, right?"

Beth blinked and looked at Carol awkwardly. "Uh… no? I've been taking cabs…"

Carol smiled, excitement showing on her face. "Perfect! I'll just borrow Sophia's for you today and then I can show you how to get around the city like a _real_ New Yorker."

Beth grimaced and Carol chuckled.

"If you absolutely _hate_ it, we can get a cab home," she assured Beth. "But I'm not payin' for that. A cab from here to the Bronx is pricey. Won't take that long on the bus either."

Beth still wasn't sure. All she could think of was all the sketchy people she'd always heard about, the kinds who took public transportation and preyed on young, seemingly defenseless girls like Beth in big cities like New York. Not to mention, all the cameras. She'd avoided the subway system mostly for that exact reason. Well, that and the fact that the concept of travelling underground just kind of sketched her out. She had no desire to become a "real New Yorker" anyway – even though Clementine and Carol seemed to think she did. She didn't even plan to be here half a year, why did it matter?

At the moment, though, Beth needed all the help she could get. So she just nodded and tried to tell herself it would work out okay. Besides, a public bus didn't sound _so_ bad. It wasn't likely to have cameras, she knew that much.

* * *

Beth left apartment 3B and returned home without Malachi ever knowing she'd been there. Carol had instructed her to go home and try to feel better before she came back, then they would leave together and take the bus to the Bronx to meet Carol's friend at her clinic. Apparently, Sophia had a half-day at school today and would be home shortly after noon, so she would watch Malachi for a couple of hours.

Beth didn't want to lie down or try to distract herself, though. Instead, she immediately set about pulling out the box of hair color she'd bought and following the instructions to darken her hair again. The blonde was showing through in the sunlight and she didn't want to take any chances in a new part of the city.

By the time Beth had finished with her hair, it was time to gather up her things and prepare to leave. She put in a pair of brown contacts, simultaneously preparing a lie in her head if Carol asked – hopefully she'd empathize with Beth's level of paraoia, but there was a chance she'd be a little suspicious of it. Beth grabbed the bag and got ready to throw it onto her back, but then she stopped. Now that she was really thinking about it, she would be in a new part of the city, taking public transportation and entering a building she'd never even seen before. And then she'd inevitably be taking off at least half her clothes at one point or another, and who knew if this building had metal detectors that would pick up on the Beretta. Not only was the gun-holstering undershirt out of the question, but so was the bag full of cash. Plus, she didn't feel comfortable leaving the gun by itself in the drawer, or even shoved beneath her pillow anymore.

So she pulled out a wad of cash – at least fifteen of the hundred-dollar bills – and stuffed them into her shoe, then carefully stashed away the Beretta in its safe spot nestled amongst the wads of money. She closed the bag tightly and tucked it neatly into the far back corner of the dresser drawer, shutting the drawer tightly. The photo and pocket watch were stuffed inside the bag, too.

Even though all her prior knowledge would tell her to keep the bag and gun on her at all times, _especially_ when wandering to a new part of the city with a person she didn't actually know all that well, she inexplicably felt that these vital pieces of evidence were safer in the apartment. She couldn't tell if she was growing too comfortable and reliant, or if she was adapting her survival techniques. Maybe a little bit of both.

Her hand was on the doorknob and she was about to open the door and leave when she felt the familiar itching on her wrist and she glanced down, reminded of her not-so-discreet scar. She was also reminded of the last paragraph of the latest news article. With a sigh, she turned back around and went to her bedroom. She rifled through the array of various clothing items she'd bought at the thrift store, half of which she still hadn't had a chance to wear yet. Then she spotted the corner of the black bandana she faintly remembered grabbing amongst the armfuls of second-hand clothing and pulled it out.

It was dark black, probably never used for anything before, and decorated with tiny white wings and skulls. She'd thought it was cute at the time and had no intended purpose for its use, especially since it appeared to be half the size of a normal bandana and would never fit around her head. It was an impulse buy during her small spree. But now she realized it was perfect for something else.

Beth folded the thin cloth of the bandana carefully, then wrapped it around her left wrist, strategically covering the scar – including the tiny, white dots along each side from the stitches Maggie had put in. Then she tied a tiny knot at the side of her wrist and tucked it in. It was just wide enough to cover the scar while remaining thin enough to look like an everyday accessory.

And it kept her from scratching at it or rubbing it or otherwise bringing any attention to its existence.

With the black leather jacket on over her T-shirt, dark sunglasses resting atop her head, money stuffed into her shoe and phone stuffed into her pocket, Beth finally left apartment 3A and locked up behind her. She walked across the hall to the door of 3B and knocked, finding herself feeling much less nervous to see Carol again and worrying more about their upcoming trek. Her hair was still a bit damp from rinsing out the color and she ran her fingers through it nervously.

But Carol greeted Beth with her usual warm smile and turned around to say goodbye to Sophia one last time, reminding her to call if there were any issues, before stepping out into the hall with Beth and closing the door behind her. She was still dressed in the same clothes as earlier, with the addition of a light cardigan and her purse. The two women walked together down the hall and the stairs in silence, passing through the lobby. Beth saw a man standing at the mailboxes who she'd never seen before, but she remembered that there were plenty of other tenants living on the first two floors that she hadn't seen yet.

Beth glanced at him as they passed and saw that he was tall and looked to be around Daryl's age, maybe a little younger, with milky white skin and short brown hair. He turned his head to look at Beth and Carol as they passed, and his eyes skimmed right over Beth to stop on Carol. He smiled briefly.

"Hey, Carol," the man greeted cheerfully over his shoulder as Carol breezed behind him toward the front door.

"Hey, Gareth, good t'see ya," Carol replied, turning back to flash him a polite smile while she held the door open for Beth.

The women stepped outside and the doors fell shut behind them as they began strolling down the sidewalk. There was a brisk chill in the air, but the day was warm from the sun. It beat down on the city from behind a scattering of broken clouds. Beth left her jacket open to ward off the heat and put her sunglasses on over her eyes, then glanced at Carol.

"Neighbor?" She asked casually, walking quickly to keep up with the older woman's pace.

Carol looked over at her and nodded. "Yeah, he lives on the first floor. I think his mom's sick, he hasn't been around much lately."

"Hmm," Beth made a thoughtful sound of acknowledgment and went back to staring straight ahead as they walked.

After a few moments of walking in silence, both women paying more attention to the busy Thursday afternoon happening all around them, Carol spoke. She walked a little closer to Beth's side, leaning in so they could hear each other clearly.

"How're you feeling today?" She asked.

Beth shrugged, glancing over at her. "I'm okay."

Carol nodded but didn't push it. "We just have a few more blocks to walk, then we'll be at the bus stop. It's about an hour ride, but it's pretty much a straight shot so we only have t'take two buses."

Beth grew nervous at the talk of their commute, but she knew she'd just have to push through it. This would probably end up being the easiest part of the day, after all.

They waited at the bus stop for only about fifteen minutes, Carol idly explaining some of the lesser-known facts of the city while Beth half-listened and nodded, gazing around at buildings, people, and cars. When the bus arrived, they loaded inside along with a handful of other people who'd been waiting with them. Beth kept her sunglasses on and her head low, avoiding looking into anyone's face or attracting attention to herself. Carol didn't seem to notice as she helped find them a seat together and they got situated before the bus started moving again.

Beth glanced around briefly from behind her dark glasses, surprised at the size of the inside of the vehicle. The only kind of bus she'd ever really been on had been the public school bus when she was little. That was before her daddy could afford to send her to private school. She'd hated it, dreading the commute to and from school every single morning and afternoon, and she feared a similar experience when it came to public transportation. But it was vastly different so far.

Even though the bus was packed full with people of all different colors, shapes, and ages, they all seemed to be preoccupied and none of them had given Beth so much as a second glance. Several of the commuters had earbuds in, staring down at their phones or gaming devices. A handful of them were reading books or magazines. And the rest were talking quietly with each other, though some didn't realize how loudly they were talking and Beth couldn't help but overhear more conversations than she cared to. But there weren't any "weirdos" or "creeps" trying to invade her personal space, and no one seemed to realize they were in the midst of a wanted murderer.

About fifteen minutes passed while Beth listened to the various conversations going on around her and gazed out the window at the passing buildings. Carol had pulled out her phone and was reading what Beth thought looked like a news article or something. But she tried not to be nosey and resisted reading over Carol's shoulder.

Then the short-haired woman returned her phone to the inside of her purse and turned to face Beth with a small smile on her face. "So what d'ya think of the public transportation thing so far?"

Beth shrugged. "It's not so bad. Kinda loud sometimes."

Carol nodded. "Yeah – you get used to it."

Beth pursed her lips and looked down at her lap, fiddling with the edge of the bandana around her wrist. She'd tuned out all the voices around her and quickly became lost in her own head. She had hoped a little conversation with Carol would help ease her quickening heartbeat, but she didn't know what to talk about besides something stupid and obviously fake like the weather.

Well, she knew what she _wanted_ to talk about, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to talk about it because she was looking for an attempt at reassurance, or if she just wanted to speak the words aloud and get them out. Maybe if she could just form them and push them out of her mouth, they'd leave her head, too. Or maybe Carol would have an answer for her. A _real_ answer, not just a polite smile.

A few more minutes of silence passed between them and then Beth turned her head and looked at Carol from behind her sunglasses, waiting for the other woman to turn her head and meet her gaze. When she did, Beth raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn't come out.

"What is it?" Carol asked, furrowing her brow and recognizing the unvoiced question on Beth's face.

Beth closed her mouth to swallow, then opened it again and asked, almost too quietly to be heard over the chatter in the bus, "If I do it… d'you think it's – d'you think that makes me selfish? Like, isn't it a really _selfish_ thing to do…?"

She was grateful for the glasses hiding her eyes because she was struggling with keeping eye contact as she tried to form a comprehensible sentence. But Carol seemed to understand what she was trying to say and her face grew very serious and empathetic at the same time.

"You mean – if you terminate?" She asked softly.

Beth nodded, swallowing again past the knot forming in her throat.

Carol slowly shook her head, eyes locked on Beth's. "No... But if it is, that's not necessarily a bad thing. We all have to be selfish sometimes."

Beth furrowed her brow. "What d'you mean?"

"You have to be self _ish_ before you can be self _less_ ," Carol explained matter-of-factly. "It's like the old saying goes: you can't pour from an empty cup. You have t'take care of yourself so you're able to help others… In my opinion, it's the farthest thing from selfish t'want to protect yourself from something you _know_ you're not ready for. And at that point, you're protecting more than just yourself, whether you realize it or not."

Beth stared at Carol thoughtfully, chewing on the inside of her cheek and mulling over her words.

She knew Carol was right. But that didn't make her feel any less guilty. For some reason, Beth just couldn't imagine a world where she put herself before someone else.

But then again, wasn't that what she'd been doing since the moment she watched Maggie and Glenn get tackled by the police?

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** I said fuck it and posted a little quicker this time because I'm halfway through chapter 35 and I'm honestly just so ready for y'all to see how this particular conflict plays out so that we can move on to the next one lol. Let me know what you think and next chapter will be posted in the next 2-3 days :)


	33. behind that wall that i've built so tall

**Warning:** If you're triggered by, or just really don't want to read about abortion, I'd suggest skipping this chapter, as well as chapter 34.

* * *

 _ **behind that wall that i've built so tall;**_

The city passed by in a blur. At each stop, a handful of people would exit the back doors and another handful would enter at the front, swiping their cards and finding seats. Still, no one paid Beth any attention. Carol remained watchful of her, glancing over every minute or so. But she was perceptive enough to see that Beth was too busy in her own head to want to talk for now.

At one point, they drove across a large bridge called the Tri Borough Bridge and crossed over the East River. Beth marveled through the window at the sight of the water and all the other cars driving on the bridge. She couldn't stop thinking about how they were suspended hundreds of feet above water. But then they were back on the regular street, and Manhattan and the East River were behind them and the passing neighborhood was gradually morphing again as they passed signs with arrows pointing towards the Bronx and Queens.

After nearly an hour of riding through the city and passing through more neighborhoods than Beth could count, they stood and exited at a stop in the Bronx. She noticed that once they'd passed over the Tri Borough Bridge, everything had started getting a little greener. There were more parks, trees, houses with actual yards. Silently, she followed Carol off the bus, keeping her head down and focusing on staying out of other peoples' way. The older woman led her across the street, to another bus stop that was caddy-corner from where they'd arrived.

The neighborhood they were in still looked distinctly "New York," though the differences varied. Beth gazed around in wonder, taking in as much of her surroundings as she could. The sidewalks were lined with businesses, all connected to each other, and there were more brick buildings than she could count, with windows and metal fire escapes up above the businesses that led to apartments. Carol read something on her phone while they waited for the next bus with a few other people. The others were all preoccupied with their phones or talking to each other, and again, Beth was grateful to be in such a large city where no one gave a shit that she existed.

Their second bus arrived after about twenty minutes and Carol and Beth boarded, finding a nearly identical interior. They found a seat together and the bus headed off again, making its way through the Bronx. They passed more Italian markets than Beth could count – tiny stores with generic names, as well as various delis and food shops and tiny, family-owned eateries that she'd never even heard of. She didn't know why, but she began to wonder if she'd have time to enjoy the city before she had to flee the country – to do the typical tourist things, like having a "New York slice" and seeing the Statue of Liberty. She wondered if Daryl would want to do those things with her. Then she thought about how much Malachi would probably love it. She could already picture the expression he'd have on his face, looking out from the tallest window in the Statue…

"We're almost there," Carol interrupted her thoughts, pointing out the window at something in the distance, toward the direction they were heading in.

Beth nodded, gazing out the window at nothing in particular. She wanted to say something, but she didn't know what. The only thing she could really see in the window from this angle was her own reflection, brought about by the way the sun was shining into the bus.

And she didn't even recognize herself at first. She could no longer tell where "Rosie" ended and Beth began.

"Doin' okay?" Carol asked more softly, her eyes showing concern as she looked at Beth.

Beth feigned a small smile. "Yeah. Just… ready t'be there."

Carol seemed to understand that Beth was struggling with a heap of thoughts and didn't ask her any more questions as they approached the bus stop and slowed to a halt. The women got up together and headed out the door, stepping onto the sidewalk and finding another neighborhood filled with a mixture of businesses and apartments and commuting citizens. Beth kept her sunglasses on and her head low. Still, no one seemed to be giving her a second glance.

She breathed in the air, wondering if she was imagining it or if it really was a little fresher in this part of the city. She wondered if it was all the plants and trees she kept seeing. It didn't hurt that she was getting whiffs of various foods from several different directions, and from the looks of the signs on nearby buildings, the smells could be coming from anywhere.

"You dyed your hair again?" Carol asked, and Beth looked over at her in surprise at first.

"Oh – yeah," she said, absent-mindedly reaching a hand up to touch her hair. The sun had dried it completely by now.

Carol nodded. "Looks good."

Beth smiled back. "Thanks."

They continued up the sidewalk and turned, then Carol's pace slowed and she pointed up ahead at one of the many interconnected businesses along the side. The street was lined with various businesses, from a fried chicken place to a market that simply called itself "Grocery Store," and across from that was a laundromat right next to a large apartment building. The building Carol pointed to was brick and had a glass front window, nearly indistinguishable from any of the other businesses on the street. The blinds were drawn inside, hiding the interior from public view. But they were close enough that she could read the white sign hanging above the entrance, its large, red letters reading: _Sanctuary Women's Clinic_. Just below that was a short tagline in smaller, black font: " _Mercy For The Lost_."

"That's the one," Carol announced, and they walked a little faster again.

 _Where are all the protestors?_ Beth thought, confused. _Is that just Planned Parenthood? I thought it was_ _ **all**_ _the abortion clinics. I thought you had to push through a whole crowd of people calling you a murderer and holding up pictures of dead fetuses just to get inside one of these places._

But it seemed that none of those things were true. Beth had never stepped foot near an establishment like this. She'd had the same doctor in Atlanta since she was a baby, and when it came time to get a gynecologist, she just went with the same one Maggie had – another friend of Daddy's, of course. It felt like he knew _everyone_ in Atlanta and Senoia sometimes.

She'd been so antsy to approach a place like this, so sure that it would bring her nothing but unwanted attention. Yet she stepped into the small building and found a waiting room that looked no different from the waiting rooms she'd sat in back in Atlanta. There were a few other women there, but no crazy crowds or angry protestors. No sobbing women, no doctors rushing around in a frantic rush to attend to all the patients who needed help. And the posters and pamphlets scattered around the room weren't even abortion related – most of them were about STDs and birth control options. If she hadn't known what this place was for, Beth probably couldn't have correctly guessed.

She lifted her head high enough to glance around and spot a solitary camera hanging in the far corner, surveying the entirety of the waiting room with one lens. She looked away and kept her head low and facing away from the camera. She could deal with _one_ – that was no big deal. Besides, who would think to check _here_ for evidence of her presence?

Carol led her to the front desk, located to the left of the entrance. They passed a couple of other women sitting in chairs, staring down at their phones or magazines. But no one in the waiting room had given Beth another glance once they saw her enter, and she took off her sunglasses to rest them atop her head cautiously. She glanced around, but everyone in the room was looking down or talking amongst themselves. There were a couple of men there, but they seemed even more disinterested than the women.

A woman sat behind the front desk, a thick window separating her from the waiting room. Carol approached and placed her hand on the desk, leaning in close to the window to talk quietly. There was a TV in the corner of the room playing _Family Feud_ at a low volume, but other than that, the waiting room was as quiet as a library.

"Good afternoon," Carol greeted with a polite smile, her voice coming out sweeter than sugar. "Can you let Dana know Carol's here? When she has time."

Beth could see the woman behind the desk nod and walk away, and then Carol turned and urged Beth to come with her and find a seat. They did, choosing a couple of stiff, cushioned chairs in the corner nearest to the door that sat opposite of the front entrance. There was a large sign posted on the door that read: _Authorized Entrance Only_. Beth guessed that was where the doctor or nurse would be coming from.

"So… Dana?" Beth asked quietly, leaning in closer to Carol and staring at her with wide, nervous eyes.

Carol nodded and gave her a reassuring smile. "Yeah, she's a friend. You'll like her – she's a pretty incredible woman. She gave up her position as one of the top surgeons at New York Presbyterian Hospital to open this clinic… But she said this is her dream job – ta help low-income women who need it the most. And women who can't turn to anyone else for… whatever reason."

Beth's surprise showed on her face and Carol smiled in satisfaction. They shared an unspoken understanding that she was referring to women like Beth – women who were running, or who couldn't run and didn't have the choice of hiding. Beth could only hope this doctor was as nice and understanding as Carol was making her out to be. What if she turned Beth away because she didn't have any ID or paperwork? Or, though less possible but certainly _worse_ , what if she recognized Beth from the news?

"Is she nice…?" She asked, quiet and hesitant.

Carol's blue eyes softened and she smiled. "Yeah… she's really nice."

Beth pursed her lips and nodded, then looked away to feign interest in the stack of magazines sitting on the table a few feet away. She reached out and picked one up, thumbing through articles about "spicy sex tips" and "embarrassing dating confessions" in an attempt to slow her overworked mind. This passed the time, slowly but surely, for the next thirty minutes they spent waiting. Meanwhile, a nurse was opening the door nearby and stepping out with a clipboard every five or ten minutes to call the name of another woman. By the fifth time the door opened, Beth didn't even look up from the enthralling article about sex trafficking that she'd come across. Then Carol nudged her leg lightly and she lifted her head, looking to Carol and then to the brown-haired woman standing by the door.

This woman was older than the nurse who'd been calling names, maybe in her forties or fifties. She was heavyset and had pale skin and thin-framed, black glasses over her green eyes, and the hints of forming wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. She wore light makeup, her short, brown hair trimmed short, a few inches past her ears, and what looked like a pants suit beneath a long, white labcoat. A silver badge pinned to her chest held a red cross symbol and read: _Dr. Dana Hatfield_.

Silently, Beth thought this woman looked like she had at least eight photos of her grandchildren sitting on a desk in her office. And it made her feel a bit better, because meeting Dr. Hatfield's eyes and seeing the kind smile on her face was already helping to put her at ease.

She set the magazine down and Carol gently grabbed her arm, standing up and leading her over to introduce the two women. Beth followed along, pulling her arm back to her side as soon as Carol had let go. She stared up at the doctor, who was still smiling at her. But she noticed Dr. Dana studying her in more ways than one. Beth could practically see the question in her eyes: _And what's_ _ **your**_ _story?_

"Thanks for doing this, Dana," Carol said with a smile, then gestured to Beth. "This is Rosie."

Dana's voice was soft and patient when she spoke, still watching Beth's face thoughtfully. "Nice to meet you, Rosie. I'm Dana. Or Dr. Hatfield. Whichever you prefer."

Beth smiled and Dana reached out a hand. Beth took it for a brief handshake, replying, "Nice to meet you, too…"

Then the women all looked at each other, Dana raising her eyebrows. Carol returned the look, then smiled and stepped aside.

"Alright – I'll wait here," she said, looking to Beth. "If you need anything."

Beth nodded. "Okay – thanks."

"Well, let's head back," Dana said cheerfully, then led Beth through the door and into a hallway that smelled a lot like the doctor's office she used to go to as a kid.

They walked past several identical doors, reaching one near the end and stepping inside to find a small exam room. There was a small stool near a desk at one side and the bed on the other, surrounded by a few darkened machines and a sink with medical supplies across from it. The walls were decorated with more posters like the ones in the waiting room.

"Go ahead and have a seat on the bed," Dana instructed as she took a seat on the stool, setting down the clipboard in her hands and pulling out her pen to begin writing at the desk.

Beth went to the bed and stepped on the small platform in front of it, then hopped up atop the crinkly, plastic sheet, legs dangling over the edge as her boots hovered a few feet off the ground. She picked at her fingernails nervously, heart racing in her chest.

"Okay, so first of all – don't worry about your confidentiality. We hold discretion to the highest priority here, and no one but me and Carol will know that you've been seen. And whatever is discussed in this room won't be shared with _anyone_ , not even her," Dana explained, scribbling something down onto the clipboard before turning in the stool to face Beth and meet her eyes. "Do you have any questions for me?"

 _Where do I start_ , Beth thought.

But she said, "Um… you don't need ID or… my last name, even?"

Dana smiled and shook her head. "No. Don't worry about it, it's taken care of. Carol is a good friend and this is exactly the kind of stuff I wanted to help with when I opened shop."

Beth let out a small breath and nodded.

"Now, it's my understanding that you've taken a home pregnancy test and gotten a positive result…?" Dr. Hatfield continued, her tone signaling that she was ready to get down to business.

Beth nodded again, glancing down at her dangling boots. "Fourteen."

"Excuse me?" Dr. Dana asked.

Beth cleared her throat and spoke a little louder, "Fourteen… tests. I took fourteen. And they all said… positive. I had one that said I was three to five weeks."

Dana's eyebrows rose but she didn't say anything, immediately turning to grab her clipboard and jot something down. She held it before her, pressed against her palm, while she faced Beth and continued asking questions.

"Okay, that's probably pretty conclusive then," she said. "We'll do a blood test anyway… And what was the first day of your last period?"

Beth paused, brain kicking into gear and trying to recall those exact dates again. But she wasn't sure she could remember any specifics, especially after everything else that had happened. She knew the conception date, wasn't that enough?

When she was silent and staring off thoughtfully for more than a few seconds, Dana suggested, "Would it help to look at a calendar? Your best estimate will do, we just need an idea."

Beth nodded and Dr. Hatfield grabbed a small calendar off the desk and handed it over to her.

 _August Eleventh… and then a week before that,_ Beth thought, staring down at the tiny, black numbers on the calendar, her finger pointed to the month of _August 2017_ and guiding her eyes back to _July_. She focused, forcing herself to remember everything she could. _It was… late July? I think. I didn't wanna go swimming that one day because I had cramps… but what day was that?_

She sighed to herself in frustration, deciding that her best guess would have to do for the doctor. Beth raised her head and handed the calendar back. "I wanna say the end of July. Like, maybe the twenty-fifth or somethin'."

Dana nodded and returned the calendar to the desk, jotting down another note on her clipboard. "Okay, that works. And you usually have normal periods? Three to five days, every thirty days?"

"But – it was August… eleventh," Beth said, brow furrowed as she watched the doctor pause and look at her quizzically. "That was… that's when it happened. When I got pregnant. I _know_. It's the only possible time I _could've_ gotten pregnant."

Dr. Hatfield nodded in understanding, lowering her clipboard for a moment. "And you're probably right. But with pregnancy, we measure from the last day of your last period to estimate gestation. It's always an educated guess, you could be later or earlier."

"Oh," Beth said, nodding as she tried to absorb this information. That was a small detail she'd skimmed past during all her research, and now she felt foolish. Her cheeks heated up.

But Dana smiled reassuringly and went on, "Now, about your period…"

The questions continued and Beth rolled out her answers, watching the doctor scribble things onto the clipboard. Dana asked about Beth's period, her PMS symptoms, her pregnancy symptoms, and of course, her sex life. Beth explained through a grimace how her ex had continued after the condom broke and she didn't realize until it was too late. For the first time, she realized she couldn't – and didn't really _have_ _to_ – lie. The details didn't matter anyway. She even revealed, sheepishly, that she'd been having sex for the past four or five days, blushing and looking away when she admitted to going without protection. But the doctor didn't give her any judgmental glares or glances, and Beth was grateful for that. It didn't make her face any less red, though.

When the interviewing process was done, Dr. Hatfield brought a nurse in to take Beth to a separate small room and draw her blood. She explained that they'd test her for most STDs, as well, just to be on the safe side, and Beth didn't object. She followed the nurse to the small room and let her prick her finger and arm. It had been ages since she'd had to get blood taken or get a shot, but it didn't hurt nearly as much as she remembered. She also had to do a swab of her mouth, and after that, Beth was sent into a small bathroom with a plastic cup that she had to fill with urine. Luckily, she hadn't taken a bathroom break since before the bus, so it didn't take long. When all that was done, the nurse made small talk about the weather and Beth put on her fakest smile until she was back in the exam room and sitting on the bed again.

They'd instructed her to wait while they got the results of her pregnancy test and a couple of her STD tests. But before the nurse had left the exam room, she'd pulled out a big, paper gown and explained that Beth needed to strip from the waist down and prepare for her pelvic exam whenever the doctor returned. Beth could only nod and watch the door shut securely.

It felt odder than usual to be stripping down in a new place, wearing the thin, paper gown and feeling the cold AC draft between her legs as she struggled to hop back onto the bed without sitting completely bare-assed on the ripped paper sheet. Not only was this a new place, but it was a new city, a new state, all new people. She tried not to think of it, but it was just one more thing to make her feel completely alone.

She'd left her boots and pants in a pile on a nearby chair, and after a few minutes of sitting uncomfortably and looking around at the same bland decorations she'd already been staring at for ten minutes, Beth reached over and grabbed her phone from the pocket of her jeans. She didn't intend on doing anything in particular, it was more for the sake of a distraction than anything. But when she unlocked the screen, she found a new text message from Daryl.

With a sheepish smile, she read:

 _Thinkin about ya…_

The blood rushed to her face and she felt herself blushing, even though there was no one else in the room and no cameras to see her. Now, was that fluttering coming to life in her gut from the parasite, or the memory of Daryl's arms around her less than twelve hours ago?

Despite the circumstances and how inappropriate it felt, Beth typed out a response and pressed Send on a message that said, " _Well that's interesting… same here. :)"_

There were a million other things she could've, and kind of wanted, to say.

A couple of minutes later, there was a knock on the door and the nurse's voice coming from the other side, "Are you ready?"

"Yeah!" Beth called back, and watched the door slowly open.

The nurse slipped inside, holding a clipboard that looked similar to the one Dana had. She raised her eyes from the paper and met Beth's expectant gaze.

"Okay, the results came back from your blood test," she explained gently. "And… it's positive. You are pregnant."

 _Okay, there it is,_ Beth thought. _I guess those tests were… well, they_ _ **had**_ _to be right._

She smiled weakly, though, and nodded. "Yeah… Thought so."

A look of concern crossed the nurse's face for a second, then she glanced back down at the paper. "Okay. So, Dr. Hatfield will be back in a minute to do a pelvic exam and talk about your options."

Beth nodded again and watched the nurse leave.

Her mind wandered back to the same old depressive routine while she sat and waited for Dana to return. The typical, self-admonishing pity party. She couldn't help but feel ashamed as she sat there, exposed and more vulnerable than ever. Not that she needed any more reasons to blame herself, but the situation almost felt like a punishment. For being so reckless and so weak when she'd always been taught the exact opposite. If she'd only been smarter like Shawn, or tougher like Maggie, or more unwavering like Daddy…

She pushed these thoughts out as quickly as they'd come the moment she heard the door opening.

Dr. Hatfield stepped inside and shut the door behind her, clipboard in hand. She took her seat on the stool and faced Beth with a solemn and expectant look on her face.

"Well, the home tests were accurate," she said softly, and Beth wondered if Dana was expecting some sort of dramatic breakdown.

 _I do that shit on my own time, lady,_ she thought. _Don't worry, you don't have to deal with it._

Dana continued, "The good news is that you're clear of STDs… Now, it's time to think about what you'll do. There are lots of options, and – "

"I can't have it," Beth said. The words burst out before she could really think about them, and she hadn't meant to interrupt the doctor, but she couldn't stand to hear this speech again. Her stomach couldn't handle it. She took a small relief in knowing that Jimmy hadn't left her with any _more_ parting gifts, but that was a tiny light in a sea of darkness.

Dr. Hatfield raised her eyebrows, a bit surprised, but then nodded understandingly. "Okay. As long as this is completely your _own_ decision, then we can discuss moving forward with termination."

Beth nodded insistently. "No one else even _knows_. It's… I _can't_ have it. I just can't – I can't be pregnant. I need to feel better. I need you t'take – take it _out_ of me..."

She hadn't intended to let so much desperation leak into her voice, but the reality of the situation was really starting to fall down upon her and sitting in this exam room, exposed beneath the paper gown, made her feel ready to burst. She _was_ desperate. Her heart was starting to beat so loudly, she was sure it would echo off the walls. Her lungs felt tight. She was forcing back tears but they pooled in her eyes and she blinked them away quickly.

Dana's voice came out calm and soothing as she stared into Beth's eyes. "Okay. I understand. Don't worry, there's still plenty of time. You won't be forced to do anything you don't want to… I know you're probably scared right now. This is a _scary_ thing, but I don't want you making any decisions based solely on that emotion."

Something about this sentence made Beth's breathing slow and she nodded, willing herself to relax. Even though this doctor didn't have the faintest clue just how dire the situation actually was.

" _Don't let the fear make your choices for ya,"_ Irma's voice echoed in her head.

For a brief moment, she thought about Daryl's crooked half-smile and his sleep-mussed hair. Her heart stopped thumping against her chest like it was trying to escape.

"If you need some time to think, you can come back – "

"No," Beth had interrupted her again. But once again, she didn't want to be talked out of it. She just wanted to get it over with. "No, I already talked with Carol… I-I just want it… done. Over with. I wanna move on."

 _In more ways than one,_ she added silently.

Dr. Hatfield nodded and looked down to scribble something on her clipboard. Then she raised her head again and said, "Okay. You wanna do it today?"

The question took Beth by surprise and she blinked, staring back at the doctor with wide eyes. Her heart leapt. "You could do that?"

Dana smiled faintly and something about her face relaxed Beth and made her feel more confident. "If you're certain, yes. I had a cancellation shortly before you arrived, so the time isn't an issue. But I want you to be absolutely _sure_ first. Do you wanna talk to Carol first? I can bring her back."

Beth chewed on the inside of her cheek and thought, _A cancellation? Conveniently? Sounds like I was meant to do this. Today._

She shook her head. "No… that's okay. I… I know. I kinda decided… before I got here."

Dana nodded and listened attentively, and Beth aspired to reach her level of self-composure. But it took everything she had just to keep from overflowing nearly every single day. And right now was no different. Her throat was sore from fighting back tears. She hated being so emotional, so visibly fragile.

Just one more thing to make her ready to be rid of the parasite once and for all.

When Beth didn't say anything else for a long moment, Dr. Hatfield softly explained, "We'll need to do a transvaginal ultrasound and confirm how far along you are, then we can discuss the options. But one more thing – is Carol going to be taking you home today?"

 _Options?_ Beth thought, recalling the research she'd done. _I guess she means pill or surgery… Shit, I didn't even think about making_ _ **that**_ _decision. I wasn't prepared to get that far today._

"Um – yeah, we took the bus. Why?" Beth answered, a bit confused.

"Because whichever method you choose, I want to make sure someone is helping you get home," Dana explained. "Are you staying with her? Or do you live alone?"

These questions made Beth a little nervous but she cautiously answered, "No… we're neighbors. I live with a roommate and – uh, his kid… Why does that matter?"

Dana raised her eyebrows as if Beth should've been able to figure it out for herself, then her expression softened as she gazed at Beth. "Because you'll need a support system. And if you don't have one, I'll make one for you. But I won't let you walk out of this clinic today until I _know_ you have someone there who will be ready to help you – and comfort you – after it's all said and done."

Beth's mouth fell open a bit but she didn't have anything to say. Should she _thank_ the doctor? She didn't know. Dr. Hatfield was very straight-forward and her candor had surprised Beth.

And why had her mind jumped to Daryl at the mention of a support system? There was no way in _hell_ she could start leaning on Daryl. If she began to rely on someone else, that's when she'd start to get too comfortable. Too vulnerable. She was already taking a risk by opening up and trusting Carol as much as she had.

Dana continued, "We care about mental health just as much as physical health here. And I don't take these things lightly. Do you understand?"

Beth nodded, pursing her lips. _I'm not unstable. You don't need to act like I'm gonna implode._

The doctor asked again, "So do you have someone? Or will you allow Carol to help you?"

Beth swallowed and nodded again. "Yeah, I… yeah. I'll um, stay with her for a bit…"

For the first time since meeting Dana, she'd blatantly lied to her. Beth had no intention of staying with Carol. Nor did she have any intention of going home and confiding in Daryl. The last thing _he_ needed was to find out that she'd had an abortion. She could only imagine how he'd react, especially as a father. But she didn't need _help_. Beth knew that Dr. Dana knew best, but she also knew that the doctor didn't really _know Beth_. She didn't know what she was capable of. The only help Beth needed was to get this thing out of her uterus. Past that, she'd be fine. She wasn't going to slit her wrist again, she wasn't going to swallow a bottle of pills. Sure, those things seemed awfully tempting sometimes, especially lately. But she had something much, much larger to live for these days.

She could never send herself to the grave with that many tons of guilt packed away inside her chest.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Of all the doctors who've been on TWD, I chose Dana to be in the women's clinic. If you don't remember, she was killed by zombie Tobin in the show. RIP.  
As has been the case with the majority of NYC-related things in this fic, it wouldn't have been possible without **GracieMae11** , so THANK YOU for helping me to accurately depict the Bronx! lol


	34. but now i'm at the top

**Again:** abortion trigger warning.

* * *

 _ **but now i'm at the top**_

It had finally come time for the part of the appointment that Beth had been dreading most: the pelvic exam. Dr. Hatfield explained that they had to do a transvaginal ultrasound, which meant sticking a very cold, very uncomfortable wand inside her vagina to get an image of the invader that had set up shop inside her uterus. Even with a giant glob of lubricant, Beth couldn't help but tense her muscles, and Dana told her to relax at least five times before Beth was able to stop clenching. She stared up at the ceiling, feet resting in the stirrups, and was thankful to find an array of stick-on stars and planets placed on the ceiling, directly above the exam bed. It wasn't much, but it was better than staring at white tiles.

The exam was finished quicker than she'd expected and she was more than happy to remove her feet from the stirrups and close her legs again. Dana stripped off her gloves and disposed of them, handing Beth a small pack of wet wipes to clean up with. She had turned the monitor of the ultrasound machine away, so Beth couldn't see the screen. For a moment, she didn't say anything, focused more on watching Dr. Hatfield stand up and gather her things, preparing to leave the room and give Beth some privacy.

 _Isn't this supposed to be the part where she shows me the picture and makes me feel guilty for wanting to get rid of something with a heartbeat?_ She thought.

"Can – can I see it?" Beth asked just as Dana was reaching for the Power button on the monitor, clipboard in the other hand.

Dr. Dana paused and raised her eyebrows. "The ultrasound?"

Beth nodded, hands resting in her lap and fiddling with the packet of wet wipes absent-mindedly.

"You don't have to… It might be better if you don't," the doctor said, her voice softening.

 _I probably won't know what I'm looking at anyway, I was just curious to see what my uterus supposedly looks like,_ Beth told herself.

She shrugged. "I think… I'd like to. If that's okay."

"Alright," Dana said hesitantly. "It's your choice."

She turned the monitor and faced the screen toward Beth, then pointed to a few specific parts of the black-and-white blob on the screen and explained what they were. Beth stared at it with wide eyes, trying to take it all in as quickly as she could. But there was nothing about it that looked like a baby, or a fetus, or whatever it was supposed to be. And a part of her had expected to feel… _something_ when she looked at it. Wasn't that what people said, after all? It always became real when they saw the ultrasound? Or they always changed their mind when they saw that "adorable" blob on the screen? But here she was, staring at it, hearing the terms "embryo" and "placenta" and feeling absolutely _nothing_. Except the deep dread that came with knowing it was inside her, and knowing that it was half-Jimmy.

 _Maybe I really am evil. And unfeeling,_ she thought.

When Beth was silent for a couple minutes, staring at the screen, Dr. Hatfield asked softly, "Are you okay…?"

"How… far along am I?" Beth asked, eyes still glued to the screen.

Dr. Hatfield was eyeing her with concern. She replied, "Five weeks… give or take."

 _Heartbeats begin at six weeks. So it probably doesn't have a heartbeat,_ Beth thought.

But that didn't make her feel any less evil. Or selfish.

"You can safely take the pill, if that's what you want to do," Dana added. "But surgery is still an option. It's completely up to you… There's still plenty of time to wait, too. If you don't think you can decide just yet…"

 _Why does she keep thinking I'm gonna change my mind?_ Beth thought with the slightest bit of frustration.

"No, I – still want it," she said, more firmly than she'd spoken all day. "I want it over with."

The doctor nodded and gave a small, tight-lipped smile, then turned off the screen of the ultrasound machine and pushed it away once more, off to the side. She went back to the desk and set down the clipboard, jotting something down with her pen. Then she took a seat on the stool again and turned to face Beth.

"So how do you want to do this?" She asked, rather matter-of-factly.

Beth swallowed, looking down at her socks. Why hadn't she put more thought into this? Why hadn't she done more research?

"Um… how does – how's the pill work, again?" She asked quietly, hesitantly looking up to meet Dana's eyes.

The doctor smiled understandingly, then explained, "Well, we give you a pill here that basically stops the pregnancy hormone. Then we send you home with another pill and you'd take that one in the morning, whenever you wake up. Then you'd have a lot of cramping and bleeding, essentially a miscarriage, at home. It usually takes about six hours or so, altogether. Maybe all day."

 _I guess that doesn't sound so bad,_ Beth thought.

"How, um… how bad does it hurt?" she asked.

Dana made a slightly cringing face and shrugged. "It varies. But most women describe the cramping as pretty intense. It's painful, I won't lie to you or try to downplay it. I want you to be prepared. But it'll also be over before you know it. You could even be feeling up to going back to work the next day."

 _Not that I have a job_ , Beth thought. _Although it wouldn't make me feel any less paranoid to be incapacitated, so I guess it is kind of important._

"And the surgery?" She asked, staring at Dana's green eyes through her glasses.

"About the same recuperation time," the doctor explained. "We usually suggest local anesthesia as it's not necessary to be put under. It's a fairly quick procedure and you'll experience some cramping and bleeding, but most women say they were able to sleep it off and get back to work the next day. We don't make any incisions or anything like that, but we will have to dilate your cervix and evacuate the uterus through the vaginal canal. And, with either option, you'll be bleeding anywhere from one to three weeks afterward. It might be sporadic, it might be like a normal period, but no matter what, it's unavoidable. No tampons, no baths, no douching, no sex – all of these things pose a risk for infection while your body is healing. You can do everything else normally, though."

Beth nodded. "Right…"

She looked down at her hands, still holding the packet of wet wipes, and thought to herself. Her mind was racing. She tried to imagine going home and hiding away in her bedroom long enough to essentially go through a miscarriage. There'd be a lot of blood to deal with. Could she manage to get that much time alone in the bathroom? Maybe she could try to do it while Daryl and Malachi were gone for the day… But then what if it took longer? What if something went wrong and she ended up having to get help? What if Daryl got worried or curious? Or what if she had no one else to ask for help _but_ Daryl? She couldn't hide out at Carol's, either. That'd just bring more questions.

It didn't take her long to decide she'd feel safer, and more relieved, if she got it taken care of under the supervision of a trained medical professional. The thought of any kind of surgery scared her, but the thought of heavily bleeding all alone in the bathroom and having to make up lies to tell Daryl scared her more.

A few long moments of silence passed and Dana started, "If you need more time to think – "

"No, I – think I want the surgery," Beth said, the conviction building in her voice as she spoke. "I mean, I want it. I _definitely_ wanna do the surgery. How much is it?"

Dana blinked, as if she hadn't expected such an absurd question. "Well, money isn't the issue here, we can talk about that afterward. I work with lots of low-income women and we have a system that – "

"I have money saved, I want to do it and pay for it and be done with it. Today," Beth said. Her fear was quickly dissipating as she looked ahead, a light finally visible at the end of the tunnel.

Dr. Hatfield quirked an eyebrow in curiosity but seemed to brush it off rather quickly. "Okay, I understand. I don't charge for any of the testing, but the surgery and appointment altogether are six-hundred. But like I said, we'll worry about it _after_. Right now, I'm going to step out and get prepared. I need you to go ahead and strip off the rest of your clothes and keep the gown on. I'll give you a few minutes of privacy and then a nurse will come in to take you to the operating room."

Beth nodded, clenching the wet wipes tightly in her hands. Her mouth was going dry.

"Do you want me to let Carol know what's going on? Or should I just tell her it'll be a little while longer?" Dana asked, pausing at the door.

"You can tell her," Beth answered without hesitation. "She's… she already knows what I decided."

* * *

 _The Georgia breeze was hot. So was the sun. The humidity was heavy in the air, and there were no clouds to ease the sun's harsh gaze. But the leaves on all the trees rustled in the breeze and waves rippled across the tall grass. And Beth had never been so in love with the sight of open, grassy fields._

 _She'd never been so in love, period._

 _She and Jimmy lay in the bed of his pickup truck, loosely cuddling in their bathing suits, still damp from swimming in the nearby pond. They were miles away from the farm, away from her daddy and momma and their scolding voices, always reminding her to "be careful" and "watch herself with that boy." Even Maggie was giving her somewhat disdainful looks lately, pulling her aside every chance she got to remind Beth that she needed to "use protection" and "stay mindful of their situation." She used Beth's high school education and her future at college as an excuse, but Beth knew there was much more behind her warnings._

 _What room did she have to talk, though? Beth knew that Maggie and_ _ **her**_ _boyfrend were doing the same thing, probably taking the same risks. Who was she to preach to Beth about being safe? Beth was always safe, always mindful, she never let Jimmy do anything without taking precautions first. She wondered if Maggie could say the same, or if she just assumed Beth would be running to her for a morning-after pill every couple of weeks because she was another "dumb teenager."_

 _None of that mattered right now, though. She and Jimmy were in their own little world, happy and hot and in love. Jimmy's calloused hands were gently stroking the soft skin of her tummy and she knew he had other plans besides just lying in his truck and cuddling with her._

 _She wasn't sure what they'd been talking about. Something pointless, like usual. They usually spent their time daydreaming together, talking about future plans that seemed less and less likely with each passing day. It was nice, though. Like an escape from everything – all of Beth's overwhelming classes, the tension hanging around the farm. And especially the aftermath of her little suicide attempt… which she was still dealing with. It seemed that now her depressive disorder was exposed, everyone looked at her differently._

 _Everyone except Jimmy. He didn't care about the fresh scar on her wrist. He didn't care that sometimes, Beth felt so lost and swallowed down by a big, black hole that she wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. None of that mattered to him. He just loved her. And he loved being with her. And it didn't matter that they'd only been dating a couple months, because it already felt like they'd been meant for each other._

" _Our kids are gonna be so damn handsome," he said with a proud smile, gazing down at Beth as the sunlight made his eyes sparkle._

 _Beth chuckled, blonde hair splayed out beneath her head, drying in the sun. "_ _ **Handsome**_ _? What about the girls?"_

 _Jimmy scoffed with a playful smile. "Girls? Nah, we're gonna have boys. All boys. Like, seven."_

 _Beth laughed aloud. "_ _ **Seven**_ _? Jeez, what d'you think I am, Super Woman?!"_

 _He laughed along with her, hand resting across her tummy now. "You can handle it! You were_ _ **born**_ _t'be a mom. Jus' got that natural maternal instinct about ya."_

 _Beth rolled her eyes. "Yeah, okay. What d'you know about maternal instincts?"_

 _He grinned. "Hey – I got a mom. An' I love women. I know all about maternal instincts."_

 _She chuckled again. "Whatever. I'll agree with ya… they'll be some cute kids. But that's 'cause they'll be mine."_

 _She was already picturing two little kids, a boy and a girl, one with blond hair and the other with brown – but both were the spitting image of Jimmy. And she and Jimmy both had good jobs, somewhere far away from Senoia. Maybe they owned their own farm – smaller, way less chaotic. But they were happy. And so were their beautiful children. And they were married, and just as in love as they were right now._

 _Jimmy quirked an eyebrow at her, smirking. "And half me. Mostly you, yeah… but c'mon, ya can't deny that we're a couple a good-lookin' people. Boys or girls, they'll be li'l heartbreakers."_

 _Beth gave a half-smile, still picturing their imaginary kids in her head. "Nah. They'll be li'l ass-kickers."_

 _Jimmy laughed. "Whatever they turn out ta be… they'll be ours."_

 _Beth grinned and sat up to rest on her elbows, gazing up into his sparkling eyes. Then she leaned forward and closed the distance between them to plant a soft kiss on his lips._

* * *

The time seemed to drag by as Beth waited. For every step they took, she was sitting and waiting for another ten or fifteen minutes. Or at least, that's what it felt like. She wasn't sure if it was quite that long. All she knew was that she was already sick of the doctor's office smell and all the bland decorations, and she was more than ready to go home and hide away in her bedroom. She wanted it to be evening time and to walk into the apartment and find Daryl and Malachi sitting on the couch, waiting for her to read with them while Daryl urged her to sit closer.

But then the nurse gave her a shot, some sort of combination of drugs to prepare for the abortion. They explained every step of the process but she didn't have any questions, all she could do was nod and follow their instructions. Their words drifted into her ears and right back out, her mind barely comprehending their meaning. When she was lying back with her feet in stirrups again, legs spread wide while she stared up at the ceiling, she could barely feel whatever it was that Dr. Hatfield was doing down there.

And then she felt the cramping, and the pain quickly intensified and she winced, fingernails digging into the hard bed beneath her. The doctor might've asked her if she was okay and she probably responded with some sort of lie, but she could barely remember when it was all said and done. The whole thing seemed to go by in somewhat of a blur. The only thing she could vividly remember thinking was that she needed to just grit her teeth and bear the pain, because it was the _least_ she deserved for the horrendous sin she was committing.

Beth knew the guilt was building and knotting up in the pit of her stomach, but for now, it was a numbness. She either still hadn't processed it in her mind, or it was a subconscious self-defense mechanism to keep her from making a scene or making a fool of herself in front of the doctor. Or having a breakdown in public. She didn't care either way. The lack of emotion was surprising, and it made her feel a little more guilty. Shouldn't she have felt something more? More sadness, more loss? More remorse and regret and shame? Wasn't she supposed to be feeling… _something_? Besides numb?

The only emotion she could really identify after the procedure was done, though, was relief. And she was ashamed to admit that, even to herself. How could she be _relieved_ to have had an abortion? To have ended her own pregnancy, when she didn't have to? When there were so many women who hoped and prayed and tried for years to attain what she'd had so effortlessly? And then she just threw it away, like it was nothing. She should be _disgusted_ with herself, absolutely repulsed. Surely.

Yet none of those things surfaced. Even as the feeling returned to her legs and she slipped her clothes back on. Even when Dana had finished explaining Beth's aftercare instructions and the cramping in her abdomen grew more and more prominent. Even when the thick pad in her underwear crinkled as she walked through the hall, stepping farther and farther away from the abandoned tissue that had once been the amalgamation of Beth and Jimmy. She tried and tried to get herself to feel something, some shred of humiliation or disgust. Yet it didn't come. Her chest felt lighter, and her muscles were half as tense as they'd been all day.

Which only made the guilt more intense.

She stopped thinking about what she should and shouldn't be feeling once she was standing in front of a desk that was placed out of sight of the waiting room, behind the _Authorized Entrance Only_ door and away from outsider access. Another woman sat behind it, typing on a computer. The nurse approached next to Beth and handed over a thin folder, which the woman behind the desk took with a polite smile.

"She's going to pay," the nurse started, pausing and turning to Beth to ask, "Cash? That's what Dr. Hatfield told me."

Beth nodded, gripping the wad of bills in her closed fist. She'd pulled them out and prepared them while she was putting her boots back on in the exam room.

The nurse turned back to the woman behind the desk and nodded, and the woman began tapping more keys on the computer while she looked at the screen. The nurse pulled another small stack of papers from the clipboard tucked under her arm and handed them to Beth, who took them and glanced down at them.

"Here's your aftercare instructions, and a list of support resources with websites and phone numbers for more information. And all of Dr. Hatfield's contact information is on there," she explained, pointing to the bottom of the paper atop the stack she'd placed in Beth's hand. "If you have any questions, she wants you to call. If it's past seven, just call her personal line. She wants you to know that you can call her at _any_ hour of the night, especially if it's an emergency – physical _or_ mental. Come back in two weeks and we'll do a quick follow-up to make sure you healed properly."

Beth nodded, looking back at the nurse's eyes after she'd investigated the list of phone numbers on the bottom of the page. "Do I need to schedule an appointment?"

The nurse shook her head. "No, just come in. We'll fit you in, it'll only be a few minutes."

Beth nodded and the nurse gave her a brief smile before turning and walking away, disappearing around the corner. Beth turned back to the woman behind the desk, who was watching her and waiting patiently.

"Okay, that's six-hundred," the woman said, glancing at the computer screen.

Beth nodded and handed over the money, pulling her hand back once the woman had the wad of bills in her palm. She watched her pull them out and count them, then give Beth a quizzical look.

"Oh, you gave me too much, honey," she said, plucking out about seven of the hundred-dollar bills and holding them out for Beth to take back.

Beth bit her lip, then said quietly, "Actually… um, the doctor told me that – uh, a woman cancelled before I came in today. And I took her spot, so – so uh, I wouldn't have been able to get this done if that person hadn't cancelled. Can you just… take that money and try t'help them, or – put it towards somebody else's appointment? I want – I'd like fer you to help somebody like Dr. Hatfield helped me. If you can, please…"

The woman stared back at Beth with wide eyes and a look that Beth couldn't really identify. But she nodded and smiled, and Beth let out the breath she'd been holding, then turned and walked toward the door to the waiting room before there was a chance for any more questions. Her face was hot and bright red.

 _Shit, I shouldn't have made myself so memorable,_ she thought as she stepped through the door and into the waiting room.

She realized that was the first time she'd felt regret all day.

Carol was still sitting in the same chair in the waiting room, reading a magazine that was laying open on her lap. She looked up when the door opened and met Beth's eyes, giving a surprised look and then a reassuring smile. She quickly closed the magazine and returned it to the table nearby, picking up her purse and slipping it over shoulder as she stood up. Beth folded up the papers in her hands and stuffed them into her jacket pocket before she weakly smiled.

"Ready t'get outta here?" Carol asked, and Beth nodded gratefully.

They left the clinic in silence, turning and heading down the sidewalk at a much slower pace than when they'd arrived. When they approached a bench on the sidewalk about a block down, Carol gestured toward it in a suggestion that they should sit. Beth was feeling particularly exhausted so she agreed, walking over and sitting down for the first time since she'd finished putting on her boots in the exam room. The women sat close together, and Carol looked over at her.

"Feeling up to the bus, or you wanna take a cab?" She asked softly, the idle sounds of the city playing as background noise to their quiet conversation.

Beth shrugged, staring down at her lap and picking at her fingernails. The scar on her wrist was itchy beneath the bandana but she resisted the urge to fiddle with it under Carol's studious gaze.

"Dana told me you went ahead and got the procedure done," Carol said, voice still soft like she was gauging Beth's reaction as she spoke. "How are you feeling?"

Beth cleared her throat. "I'm fine. It went well. A lot quicker than… I expected."

 _A lot less painful, too,_ she added silently.

Carol nodded and waited for her to say more, but Beth pursed her lips and continued staring at her hands. "You don't have to be okay. When I ask how you're feeling, I'm not looking for a reassurance – I just wanna know how you really _are_ doing. Even if I can't help. It's good ta talk about it."

Beth nodded but still wouldn't meet Carol's eyes. "I know. I… I dunno how I feel yet."

Carol leaned back a bit. "I understand that. It'll take time to… sit with it. Process it. For now, though, how do you feel physically? I was only kiddin' when I made that comment about paying for the cab – I brought some cash, I can cover for us to take a quicker way home. I know you're probably tired."

Beth smirked weakly and nodded. "No, I know. It's okay. I have the money, don't worry about it. You've done enough for me already."

"Don't think that this was some kind of favor for you," Carol assured. "I mean, it was, but – we _care_ about you, Rosie. And you don't have to go through this kinda stuff alone. This was the least I could do to help you. And you don't owe me anything for it, okay? So don't think that."

Beth nodded, but she felt the tears forming in her eyes and she fought to push them back. She felt the strangest urge to reach out and wrap her arms around Carol, even though they barely knew each other. But she resisted, twisting her hands together tightly in her lap.

"I think I wanna take a cab," she finally mumbled, lifting her gaze to meet Carol's.

The older woman gave her a soft smile and somehow, it faintly eased the vines of anxiety that were wrapping their way around Beth's heart.

"Okay," Carol said, and pulled out her phone to call the nearest cab company.

* * *

It took them half the time it had taken on the bus to ride in a cab back to the East Village. Beth didn't open her eyes this time to watch the water passing beneath the bridge, or to see the scenery change back from greenery and brick to concrete and more brick. She rested her head back against the seat and listened to Carol making small-talk with the cab driver, resting her eyes and focusing on pushing out the pain in her abdomen.

The sun was getting lower when they approached the familiar apartment building, the day quickly dissolving into late afternoon as the evening set in. Traffic was beginning to grow hectic, and Beth was glad they'd left when they did and avoided the long waits at intersections. She handed over two of the hundred-dollar bills she'd had stuffed into her pocket with a quiet "thank you" and exited the cab with Carol before the driver could say anything in return.

The air was back to what she was used to, although there was still a light aroma of cooking food wafting around as dinner time approached. But the smell was noticeably different from the Bronx and Beth almost missed that aspect. The spot on the side of the street where Daryl's bike usually sat covered in a tarp was empty. It would still be a couple of hours until Daryl got home, and this was another thing Beth was grateful for as she passed through the empty lobby and climbed the three flights of stairs with Carol. The two women moved at a much slower pace than normal, and Beth felt the cramping get more intense halfway through the second flight. But she pushed through and put on a resilient smile when Carol gave her a look of concern. The thought of her big, comfy bed was keeping her going and helped to fuel her as she pushed through the last few stairs and reached the landing of the third floor.

Beth had expected them to part ways and she paused at the door to 3A, giving Carol a quizzical look when the short-haired woman stood in the hallway and watched her expectantly.

"I'm gonna make sure you get inside and have everything you need first," Carol explained when she realized that Beth was waiting for her to step towards her own apartment.

"Oh – you don't have t'do that," Beth assured her.

Carol smiled and shook her head. "Don't worry about it. Let's unlock the door and get inside, you need ta lie down."

Beth didn't feel like arguing – didn't have the energy for it. Instead, she just nodded and pulled out the key from her pocket, unlocking the door and pushing it open to step inside with Carol close behind.

The apartment was exactly how she'd left it, with the exception of the air having grown stale since she'd left. She pulled out the folded papers from her jacket pocket before slipping the jacket off, her arms hanging heavy and the exhaustion setting in as she hung it up on the coatrack. There was a rustling of paper in her hand and she gripped them tighter, her feet dragging as she stepped away and headed straight for her bedroom. She didn't give so much as a glance backward.

Carol wandered over to the kitchen wordlessly while Beth shuffled into her bedroom and began the tedious task of taking off her boots. She was glad she hadn't taken the bag, and especially not the gun, considering it would've been difficult to keep them concealed while Carol was hanging around. Beth had grown so tired that she could barely even exert the energy it took to be paranoid right now. She could hear the fridge door opening and closing and some dishes being moved around in the kitchen, and Beth quickly changed into comfortable sleeping clothes while the door sat half-open.

Just as she was setting her phone down on the bedside table – after checking and finding no new texts from Daryl or anyone else – and preparing to crawl into bed, Carol stepped into the bedroom. Beth turned around and gave a small smile, spotting the mug of hot tea in the older woman's hand, and something else being clutched in her other hand.

Carol walked over and set the tea down carefully beside Beth's phone, then turned to her and held out the bright green package in her hand. Beth reached out and took it, realizing it was a package of pads.

"Here, you'll need these," Carol explained. "I didn't know if you had any already or not but just in case, I had these layin' around and I knew you could use them. They're the overnight kind so you might actually be able to sleep through the night comfortably without havin' t'get up and go to the bathroom every few hours."

Beth furrowed her brow and stared down at the package quizzically, then looked up and met Carol's soft, blue eyes. "Thanks…"

Carol gestured to the folded papers lying on the nightstand. "She gave you aftercare instructions, right? And explained it all to you?"

Beth nodded, her face relaxing. "Yeah. They want me t'go back in two weeks for a follow-up…"

"I'll go with you, if you want," Carol suggested.

"Thanks," Beth said.

"Not a problem," Carol replied, smiling. "I made you some tea, it might help you sleep better. But right now, you just need t'rest, so lay down and get some sleep. I'll leave you my number – I want you to send me a text later and let me know how you're doing, whenever you wake up. If you don't, I'll come check on you. Okay?"

 _So I basically have to let her know I'm doing well or else Daryl will figure out something's up_ , Beth thought. Not that she would've had any reason to avoid Carol. She just found it kind of annoying that these women were acting like she was going to kill herself because she had an abortion. What had been the point of the bandana if they'd already picked up on how damaged she was?

But she nodded and said, "Okay, I will… Thank you."

Carol nodded and gazed at Beth for a second, studying her. "Sure you're okay? I won't tell Daryl anything that's goin' on, so don't worry about that… just focus on feelin' better, okay?"

Beth blinked and took in a discreet deep breath. "Right… I know. I kind of already feel better."

 _At least the nausea's already gone,_ she thought. And it was true, she hadn't felt incessantly nauseous since shortly after she'd left the clinic. But she wasn't sure if it was because of the abortion or because she had one less giant predicament weighing down on her conscience.

"Give it a week and most of the symptoms will be gone," Carol said.

"What about the… other stuff?" Beth asked. She hadn't quite intended to blurt the question out, but there it was. She knew she didn't have to specify because Carol understood, and her expression confirmed that. _The mental stuff_.

"Well… a little longer. But that's a different ball game," Carol replied gently. She opened her mouth like she was about to say something else, but then closed it again and glanced away for a second. The words were forming in her head as Beth watched expectantly. Then she visibly swallowed and met Beth's eyes again, continuing with more hesitation, "I've done it, too. But it's different for everyone. I don't want to compare my experience and my choices to yours."

Beth furrowed her brow and stared at Carol with slight disbelief. She weakly asked, "You did…?"

Carol nodded but didn't waiver. "Yes… I got pregnant a couple years after I had Sophia. Ed wasn't happy about it. The abuse got worse until… one night, he kicked me so hard in the stomach that I miscarried. It was some of the most _horrific_ pain I've ever felt, and I've had just about every bone in my body broken at one point or another... I wouldn't have wished that kind of suffering on my worst enemy… A few years later, we had an accident. I don't know what happened, the birth control I was on failed or something. One of the nights that he forced himself on me, I got pregnant. As soon as I found out, I scraped together every dollar of savings I'd managed to hide from him and got an abortion… It was the only choice I had. Even if I was able t'protect it from him until I gave birth, I couldn't have brought another child into that _hellhole_. Sophia already had to deal with enough... I wouldn't have been able to live with myself knowing I'd dragged another innocent baby into that. He probably would've killed me just for having it, in all honesty."

Beth stared at Carol wordlessly, mouth slightly agape. She quickly closed it when she realized and swallowed hard. She empathized with Carol and felt a light stab of pain in her chest for the other woman.

Maybe they had more in common than she'd thought.

But then Carol put on a tight-lipped smile and an expression of resilience, giving Beth a meaningful gaze and letting the silence settle over them. "But it's different for everyone. Every woman who's done it has had her own reasons. And there's no reason that's any less valid than another. Whatever reason you had, it was _your_ choice to make."

"I… had no idea," Beth muttered quietly, her voice trailing off. "That you… had t'do it, too. I didn't really think…"

Carol shrugged and her expression didn't change. "Well, I didn't wanna tell you before, in case it affected your decision… I didn't want you to feel like it was your only option. You had to come to a conclusion on your own."

Beth nodded in understanding. "Still… I would've never guessed…"

Carol shrugged and said simply, "Of course not. No one really knows… till you _tell_ them… Now c'mon, let's get you into bed."

Beth didn't question the vague sentiment or the sudden change of subject. Or why Carol was being so motherly towards her. Instead, she fell right into it and allowed it to happen without hesitation. She crawled into bed and beneath the comforter, mind still reeling from hearing Carol's story. Carol tucked the comforter in around Beth and fluffed her pillow before taking a step back and gazing down at her with soft, concerned eyes.

"Need anythin' else? Are you hungry at all?" She asked, and Beth blinked with heavy eyelids.

"No," she mumbled. "I'm just gonna nap…"

Carol nodded. "Okay. I'll lock up behind me, I have a spare key. Daryl will be home in a couple hours but I'll tell him t'let you sleep."

Beth was suddenly a bit more awake and she quickly spoke, "Can you – actually, can you not mention it to him? Like, at all...? He won't bother me, just… don't say anything. Please."

Carol furrowed her brow for a second but said, "Okay… I won't."

She hesitated inside the bedroom, triple-checking that Beth had everything she needed before heading toward the door. She reminded Beth to text her later, then left the bedroom and shut the door tightly. A few seconds later, Beth heard the front door open and then close.

With the clinic's drugs still flowing through her veins and the cramping still prevalent in her abdomen, Beth rolled over and got comfortable. It didn't take more than thirty seconds before she was drifting off to a deep, dreamless sleep.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** The flashback is from late summer 2016.


	35. Detective Grimes II

_In the midst of his coma, a few particular moments continue to echo through Rick's seemingly endless dreams..._

* * *

 _ **Detective Grimes II**_

"Things might get a li'l shifty in there."

Shane was smiling. It was that cocky smile he'd been wearing way more often since being promoted, and as much as Rick hated it, he knew he was probably wearing a pretty similar smirk more often than he'd like to admit.

"That's what yer hopin' for, huh?" Rick drawled, sipping his coffee and resting back into the driver's seat of the parked car.

Shane chuckled and turned his head to gaze out the tinted passenger's side window. "Nah. I mean – it'd be nice ta see some action. But I'm really hopin' I don't gotta take any of 'em out… Lerner'd probably suck my dick if I brought back every last Greene, alive and ready fer interrogation."

Rick had to laugh out loud at this. The thought of Dawn Lerner doing _anything_ sexual just wasn't a thought that he was capable of forming. But then again, Shane's taste in women was questionable sometimes.

"Like you could keep it hard under that kinda pressure," Rick teased, causing Shane to laugh.

"Shit – ya prob'ly got a point there," the olive-skinned man said.

Rick's smile faded and he spoke in a more somber tone. "No jokin', though – we should be prepared. We got no clue how many weapons they have in there."

Shane grew more serious as well and nodded. "Think I ain't ready? I'm gonna have my finger on the trigger after the first _step_ I take inta that place."

Rick shrugged and took another sip of coffee. "Let's not start anythin' we don't have to, though. We need to go in with level heads. Keep our eyes peeled, utilize the backup we got on standby… No need to escalate if they're willin' to go quietly."

" _Quietly_?" Shane repeated. "Ain't nothin' gonna be _quiet_ about this, Rick. We're walkin' straight into the snake's nest, man. That farm's prob'ly got a quarter-billion dollars an' just as many guns. Even if ya don't think about how outnumbered we are, they're still dangerous. Ain't no way in hell a single one of 'em is gonna wanna come quietly, let alone cooperate."

Rick didn't say anything. He knew Shane was right, but he also knew that if Shane had it his way, he and Rick would be busting down the front door and throwing Hershel Greene to the ground within five seconds of stepping out of the car.

Sometimes he wondered why Shane didn't join the SWAT team or go back to being a regular officer. But he liked being partners with his best friend too damn much to ask.

"Call it my instinct," Shane said. "But I got a feelin' we're gonna have some runners. Best tell 'em ta have the active guys on standby – let's keep those ol' donut-eaters out on the backroads. They ain't gonna be no help outside a their cars."

Rick smirked and said, "Too late, Lerner already assigned everybody. You know I ain't got no say in that anyhow."

Shane grinned. "Fer now. After tonight, though…"

"So you get a blowjob an' I just get more work?" Rick joked.

"Hey – you wanted it."

"Yeah, yeah. Just remember, Clint Eastwood – level heads."

"Ain't no glory in level heads," Shane put on that cocky smile again.

Rick chuckled and pulled his seatbelt across his chest, then turned the key in the ignition and started the car. "Yeah, well, ya can't get yer dick sucked if yer dead."

Rick had to look away and laugh when Shane raised his eyebrows and said defiantly, "Oh yeah? _Watch_ _me_."

 **to be continued…**


	36. control yourself, take only what you nee

_**control yourself, take only what you need from it;**_

Beth awoke a few separate times to squirm in pain, but she quickly drifted off again each time. Carol had offered to lend her a few pain pills to get her through the next day or two, but Beth had declined. She felt that the pain was just another part of the punishment, and she didn't feel right accepting any sort of medication to numb her further. So she lay in bed and writhed beneath the comforter when a wave of cramping would sweep over her. And then she'd roll over and ignore the throbbing ache to sleep a little longer.

At one point, she managed to wake up long enough to grab her phone and find Carol's number jotted down on a piece of paper next to it. Beth sent a text message assuring Carol that she was okay, then set her phone down and rolled back over. Another wave of cramping passed through her middle, and then she relaxed and fell back into a deep sleep.

When she finally woke up and opened her eyes, the pain a passing sensation in her lower half, she glanced at the clock and realized it was past nine. She hadn't expected to sleep quite so long, but she admittedly felt better. However, there was a stickiness between her legs and she knew it was time to make a trip to the bathroom. Her eyes were also dry and sore, and she realized she'd fallen asleep with the brown contacts in. She carefully plucked them out and placed them back in the dish on the nightstand, rubbing her eyes gratefully, then grabbed the package of pads that Carol had given her and headed out the bedroom door quietly. The mug of tea sat on the nightstand, cold and untouched. She slipped out into the hall and practically dashed to the bathroom, all in silence.

The apartment was dimly lit and quiet, save for the light above the stove in the kitchen and the glow of the TV in the living room, the volume low and barely audible down the hall. Beth didn't take the time to glance at the couch and check for Daryl, but she knew he was there. She focused on making it inside the bathroom and shutting the door before turning on the light, and then she was occupied with changing the blood-soaked pad in her panties.

She was sore, to say the least. Whatever drugs the clinic had given her were completely worn off now and the area between her legs felt extremely sensitive and inflamed. But it was nothing compared to the cramps that kept washing over her, starting in her uterus and vibrating outward to what felt like every nerve in her body. They seemed to be coming less frequently as time went on, though.

Beth washed her hands and flushed her eyes with some cold water before she shut off the bathroom light and slipped back out into the hall. As she approached her bedroom door, she noticed that Daryl was sitting on the couch with his head turned toward her, and in the glow of the TV, she could see that he was staring at her.

She paused at the door, hand on the doorknob as she gazed back at him. She hesitated, part of her wanting to go sit on the couch with him. But a larger part of her wanted to go and crawl right back into her still-warm bed. Her body still felt exhausted and she was almost certain she could sleep for another twelve hours without interruption.

She didn't have to approach him, though, because he was standing up from the couch and quietly stepping toward her. He must've noticed her hesitation, or maybe he could see how pale her face was, even in the low light. She pulled her hand back from the door and faced him as he stopped a few feet in front of her. His eyes were assessing her, and she could see the lines of concern etched onto his face.

"Hey, you alright?" He asked quietly, his voice coming out low and growl-ish.

Reflexively, Beth nodded. "Yeah, wh – sorry. I'm jus' really tired today…"

She didn't have a lie prepared for this. Now she was grasping at straws, positive that he could see right through her. The concern on his face didn't go away and she suddenly felt the slightest bit sick to her stomach.

Daryl furrowed his brow, still looking her up and down. He stopped on her eyes, his gaze intense. "You… sure? Ya don't wanna… tell me nothin'?"

A jolt of fear struck Beth through the chest and she swallowed hard. "What… I dunno what you mean…?"

His face fell slightly and she saw him let out a long breath. Then he asked, his voice still low, "Y'know… ya ain't gotta go through shit all by yerself. I don't… I ain't tryin' ta get all up in yer business, but… if it's got somethin' t'do with me, I'd like ta know."

 _Shit, of course he blames himself and thinks I'm avoiding him,_ Beth thought remorsefully.

She licked her lips and quickly prepared an explanation in her head, quietly explaining with reassurance, "No, it's – it's not anything with you. I… um, it's not anything you even have t'be bothered with. I didn't mean t'sleep all day – I wasn't avoidin' you or anything, it's just some, like… personal stuff. I guess. I'm sorry…"

Daryl furrowed his brow again. "So, it's… not mine?"

Beth returned his look of confusion, thinking, _Wait, what? Are we talking about the same things…?_

Another jolt of fear went through her chest as she watched his eyes searching her.

"You," Daryl started, but sighed and paused, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he stared back at Beth. "Ya mean… you ain't… pregnant?"

A knot formed in Beth's throat and she blinked in astonishment. "What… _pregnant_?"

For the first half of a moment, she started to form a lie to deny any sort of pregnancy. But then the memories flashed in her mind, and she reminded herself that Daryl Dixon was no stranger to pregnancy. He'd had a pregnant girlfriend at one time, he'd witnessed the symptoms. He'd also observed Beth for the last week and a half, and for at least the last couple of days, he'd made it clear that he noticed she was sick. For the last half of the moment, she was admonishing herself for being so ignorant to believe that the entire pregnancy could go unnoticed by Daryl. He was an observant man, and she should've figured that into the equation long before this confrontation. Even though she'd been able to hide everything else, she couldn't hide the excessive vomiting and sleeping, and whatever look had been on her face that had been so obvious to Carol.

But she hadn't assumed Daryl would figure it out. She'd been so sure that she could keep it _all_ to herself – and Carol. She didn't even have a cover-up prepared. Not a believable one, anyway. And now she was searching for the right thing to say, the best way to explain herself and continue weaving the web she'd wrapped herself up in.

She could see him swallowing hard and licking his lips before he spoke, "Yeah, you… been sick a lot. Sleepin' a lot more. An' yer – well… yer boobs got bigger. Not that I was starin' at 'em or anything, I jus' – when we were in bed, I noticed… but it's another symptom, so I thought…"

His cheeks turned pink and he glanced away, coughing and then stroking the hair on his chin nervously. Then he stepped away for a second and grabbed something from the bar, approaching Beth and holding it out for her to see.

"An' I found this – on the floor, by the coatrack," he explained. "I – well, that's a pregnancy doctor, ain't it?"

Beth's face grew hot and she stared down at the paper he'd just handed her. It was one of the pages from the stack of instructions that the clinic had given her. It was nothing more than an extra copy of Dr. Hatfield's contact information, though. She realized she must've dropped it when she was hanging up her jacket, too tired at the time to notice.

Beth's heart jumped and her mind raced as she quickly tried to figure out the best way to explain herself. She'd have to continue the lie about her horrible ex who ruined her life and admit to being a selfish person who got an abortion for selfish reasons. She had wanted to keep this from Daryl, all of it. He'd already seen how damaged and fucked-up she was, he already had enough to deal with. She didn't want to pile on her own personal problems, she didn't need him worrying about her health like Carol and Dr. Hatfield did. He was supposed to be her escape from all of that, and she didn't want to see the way his eyes would change when they looked at her once he found out the choice she'd made. What if he thought she was evil and wanted nothing to do with her? She couldn't say she wouldn't understand if he told her he didn't want her to be around Malachi anymore. Her stomach churned and it wasn't the cramping this time.

Before she could form a reply, Daryl asked hesitantly, "It's… too soon t'be mine – right?"

His dark blue eyes were searching her face for an answer and she quickly shook her head, folding the paper in her hand nervously. "'Course it ain't yours. It – was my ex's… He-he got me…"

She couldn't finish the sentence because Jimmy's face was appearing in her mind. But Daryl understood and his stance relaxed just a little. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight from foot to foot again.

After a long silence, he grumbled out, " _Was_ …?"

Beth's eyes drifted downward and she was staring blankly at Daryl's socks and the carpet. Her mouth went dry.

"I… got rid of it," she finally pushed the words out. "I ended the – the pregnancy..."

There was a silence that felt like it dragged on forever and her words hung in the air, stealing her breath. She forced herself to look up and finally meet Daryl's eyes. He was still watching her, but his face hadn't hardened with anger like she'd expected. She stared back and waited for his eyes to change, anticipated the shift in his mood and the disgust to appear on his face. But it never did.

"Oh," Daryl said, breaking the silence. The invisible fist clenching Beth's lungs released its hold. "You… today?"

She nodded with pursed lips.

His expression still didn't change, except to show more concern, and he tensed up. "Ya went an' did that – did it _alone_?"

Beth furrowed her brow, unable to interpret his response. She searched for the anger and disappointment that was surely hiding behind his words. "What – no, I… Yeah, today, but I – I went with Carol. She, um… she helped me find a place an' went with me."

Daryl's stance relaxed a bit and his eyes softened. "Shit… you okay?"

She was still a bit taken aback by his reaction. She kept anticipating a more judgmental response, a scoff or a narrowing of the eyes as he tried to imagine how he'd ever been attracted to her. But it wasn't happening. He just kept looking at her, studying her, like he was searching for the bruises or the cuts, or some sort of visible hurt that he could address and try to fix.

Beth pursed her lips again and nodded her head. Then she said weakly, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Disappointment shown in his eyes, but not for the reason she'd thought. He clarified, "No – really. Are you? Ya ain't gotta lie. It's okay ta _not_ be okay."

She felt tears building up in her throat and pushing their way upward, and she had to fight to keep them from pooling in her eyes. She was having an internal battle with herself about whether to confide in Daryl or not. She wasn't sure if it was the lingering pregnancy hormones or just the stress of the day, but a large part of her wanted to break down in his arms. She was so exausted, but not physically – emotionally. It felt like carrying an eighty-pound safe inside her chest from Georgia to New York, and then she just kept adding one thing after another inside it, stuffing it full and letting her secrets pile up until she was bursting at the seams with hidden turmoil. Her sternum was heavy with unspoken words and all the tears she'd forced back.

Beth started to speak, but whatever she'd had planned quickly slipped away and her sentence trailed off. "I'm, um…"

Her eyes drifted downward for a second and Daryl was still watching her, waiting for her to finish. She looked back up and met his gaze again, her brow furrowed, and asked, "Aren't you – don't you think I'm awful now?"

He gave her a look of bewilderment. "Huh? Why would I think that?"

Her fingers were still gripping the folded-up paper. "'Cause I… got an abortion."

Daryl lifted an eyebrow, still giving her a look of confusion. "So? Ain't none a my business, I jus' wanna know if yer okay or not... What d'ya think, I'm some kinda close-minded asshole?"

Beth shook her head but she was searching his face, trying to figure out if he was fucking with her. "No… I – m'not sure what I thought… jus' expected…"

Daryl shrugged and said, almost casually, "Did what ya had ta do. Ain't nobody else's business, but even if it was, ain't nobody's place ta tell ya what's right in that situation… Sure as hell ain't mine."

His words were surprisingly reassuring, and Beth relaxed for the first time since he'd approached. She began to feel guilty for making such assumptions about Daryl, but then again, she hadn't expected Carol to be so understanding either. It was a situation that didn't allow you to properly predict someone else's reaction – which made Beth all that much more grateful that it was done with and that she'd made a decision and followed through.

Even if that meant feeling guilty about it for the foreseeable future. She had to admit to herself that she'd take the extra tally mark on her list of sins if it meant not having to bear a nine-month burden that would emerge as a living, breathing reminder of her past. If it meant she could begin the long trek down the foggy road that lay ahead with a little less fear.

"Thank you," Beth choked out, her voice barely loud enough to be heard.

Daryl nodded and his face relaxed a bit, but he still looked concerned. He asked, "So, are ya okay, or is there somethin' I can do…?"

She watched him chewing on the tip of his thumb nervously, then answered, "Not really. I'm… I really _am_ doin' okay. Er – I will be... When I stop throwin' a pity party fer myself."

Beth put on a weak smile, hoping it appeared more convincing than it felt.

"Alrigh', well I'll leave ya alone," Daryl muttered, though he wasn't moving to walk away. "Jus' – lemme know if you need anythin', will ya? Ain't no reason ya gotta suffer all by yerself."

She let a smirk tug the corner of her lip upward and tilted her head to the side a bit, asking more light-heartedly, "What, you wanna suffer with me?"

He shrugged but didn't smile or hesitate when he replied, "If ya want me to."

Beth's face fell. She was too tired to lie or make up some sort of tough mask to wear. Besides, Daryl didn't seem to care anyway. He was more understanding than she'd thought, and that in itself was a huge relief. For now, her own mind was her worst enemy, and she wanted nothing more than to be weak for a little bit. To give in, _just_ for now. To have someone next to her whose heartbeat could drown out all the taunting memories, all the whispers of old ghosts.

Maybe Carol had just worn her down with all her personal counseling, or the surgery had left her feeling raw and vulnerable to the point that she couldn't hide it. Or maybe she craved the calmness that settled over her when she was lying next to Daryl, lost in their own little bubble for snippets of time.

She stepped forward and closed the distance between them, reaching out and wrapping her arms around him, the paper in her hand crinkling between her hand and his back. Daryl paused for a moment, as if he were surprised, but quickly wrapped his arms around Beth and pulled her in closer. She pressed the side of her face into his broad chest, leaning against his body and breathing in his familiar smell. It was getting harder to force down the tears that were burning in the back of her throat.

His heartbeat was steady and unfluctuating beneath her ear, and it sped up for only a few seconds under her touch. Then it was calm and slow, loud and untiring. Her breaths came steadier and she closed her eyes and felt his chin hair tickling the top of her forehead before she felt him lightly kissing the top of her head. His arms tightened around her.

When they pulled apart after a long couple of minutes, Beth reached down and gently grabbed his fingers. She gazed up into his eyes and asked quietly, "Wanna come lie down with me?"

She spotted the smirk tugging at the corner of his lip and it made her stomach do a little flip-flop – in a good way, for once. He interlaced his fingers with hers and pulled her back in closely, placing his other hand on the small of her back.

"Would that help…?" He asked, voice low and husky as he gazed down into her eyes.

Beth smiled faintly and nodded. "I think so."

Then Daryl was leaning down and pressing his lips against hers and she was closing her eyes and kissing him back, softly at first before growing needier. She pulled back before she got carried away and looked up at him.

"Been waitin' t'do that all day," he whispered with a coy smile, and leaned in to kiss her again. She smiled against his lips this time.

After Daryl had cleaned up the living room and checked on Malachi, and the darkness and quiet had settled over the small apartment, he joined Beth in her bed, leaving the door ajar in case Malachi woke up. They cuddled close beneath the comforter, his arms wrapped around her as she lay close against him, enveloped in his warmth and breathing in the smell of leather and soap.

He hummed in contentment and she listened to his heartbeat while his fingertips snuck beneath her shirt and stroked the bare skin of her back. All her muscles relaxed and she sunk into him, eyes drifting shut and sleep overtaking her.

It wasn't dreamless this time. Her mind seemed to catch up with her and began showing her another conjuring of her guilty conscience. Jimmy's face appeared and she could hear his voice, clear as day, filling her ears and echoing around her. He didn't look the way she remembered, though – like a walking corpse, a shell of his former self.

No, he looked like _Jimmy_. Like the boy she'd fallen in love with, the one she liked to remember when she was forced to think about him.

He looked so sad. She felt a sinking in her chest. He kept asking her, "Our baby? You _killed_ our baby, Beth? How could you…?"

She was frozen in place and couldn't run away, couldn't turn her head or close her eyes. He wouldn't leave.

Then she heard another voice, whispering from somewhere far-off, "Hey – babe, wake up. C'mon, it's a dream…"

Her eyes popped open and she realized she was panting heavily, her face damp with sweat. She looked around for a second in the darkness, disoriented. Then she saw Daryl's face, the concern in his eyes as he stared down at her, propped up on one elbow beside her in bed. The apartment was still dark and quiet, and she couldn't figure out if he'd really been talking to her or if it had been part of the dream.

"Hey – you good?" He whispered, his brow furrowed. He reached out and gently brushed away a few strands of hair from her face.

Her breathing was steady again and her heart had slowed back to normal, but Jimmy's face was still lingering in her mind. "Y-yeah…"

Daryl still looked concerned. "You were whimperin' – you have a nightmare?"

Beth sighed and nodded, then wrapped her arm around his middle and pulled herself in closer against him. He rested back into the bed and snaked his arm around her waist, holding her tightly. She shut her eyes and buried her face into his shirt, willing her brain to stop torturing her. Her body still felt so drained of energy.

"'S okay, I'm here," Daryl whispered, his voice sleepy. "Jus' a dream, it ain't real…"

Something about his voice and his words eased her, and then his fingertips were stroking her bare skin again and lulling her to sleep. The dream didn't return.

* * *

Beth awoke briefly to feel Daryl kissing her lips softly and whispering in her ear, "Hey, I'm goin' to work now. I'll see you tonight." She nodded in affirmation but didn't open her eyes, and she'd rolled over and drifted back off before he was out the door.

When she awoke a few hours later, she opened her eyes and glanced at the clock. It was shortly after nine, yet she didn't feel like complete shit like she normally did at this time of the morning. In fact, she felt more rested than she had all week. She could still smell Daryl's lingering scent and as she rolled over, she faintly recalled him waking her from the nightmare as well as kissing her goodbye. She smiled to herself.

Beth reached over and grabbed her phone, lying in bed and scrolling through her notifications. There was a text from Carol telling her to stop by whenever she got up for the day and was feeling better. It had been received last night, after Beth had sent her text and fallen back asleep. There was also a text message from Clementine, explaining that she would be free that afternoon and that she was wondering if Beth would like for her to come over and keep her company.

It didn't sound like a terrible idea. She had, after all, agreed to hanging out with Clem today. That had been before she'd gotten her last-minute appointment at the clinic, but still. She sent a text in response, asking what time of the afternoon Clem wanted to hang out. Beth didn't want to sign herself up for more social interactions than she could handle on this particular day.

Then again, now that she had nothing to dwell on except the abortion, she kind of wanted to try and do something to keep her mind occupied. At least until Daryl and Malachi were home to distract her. Maybe talking and pretending she was normal with Clem would do her some good. And maybe Carol just wanted to make her some more food and _not_ try to shrink her head. Her appetite was back, that was for sure. She was already thinking about coffee and breakfast as she got out of bed and slipped on some clothes, then headed to the bathroom.

The occasional cramps seemed like a fair trade for the nausea, and Beth was glad she'd been able to mostly sleep it off. She changed her pad, finding the area between her legs to still be sore, but certainly improving from the day before. Then she washed her face and brushed her teeth before heading out to the kitchen and starting a pot of coffee.

While the coffee brewed, she wandered into the living room and opened up a couple windows. The weather was nice again, and the street below was busy with traffic, sidewalks full of passing pedestrians. The low buzz coming from the city exuded the exciting air of another Friday, and autumn was teasing its arrival on the breeze. The sun was bright and there weren't many passing clouds, and Beth breathed in a deep breath of fresh air. Something that might've been hope was floating around her and slowly filling her body, like the breeze that drifted in and filled the apartment.

She made herself a full breakfast and sat down at the table to eat and sip coffee, absent-mindedly watching a sitcom rerun on TV. Her phone sat silent on the table. When she was done, she cleaned up the kitchen, did the dishes, and poured herself another mug of coffee. Then she sat down on the couch and watched TV for a little while longer, enjoying the peace that surrounded her. Thankfully, her mind was keeping mostly quiet, at least for the time being.

Beth's phone vibrated while she was watching TV and she found a text from Clem, asking if she could come over after she got done with class around four. Beth replied and said that'd be fine. At least she'd have time to go assure Carol that she was doing okay. And she hadn't seen Clem in a few days, all the more reason to have her over and ask about the latest gossip, even if it wasn't that interesting. She needed to talk to other people besides just Daryl and Carol and she knew that, subconsciously. It was a difficult thing to admit, though – that you needed other people to keep yourself going. But she couldn't deny the fact that she'd only gotten this far _because_ of other people. She also couldn't deny the lightness she felt sometimes in the presence of people like Clem and Tara and Rosita.

When she'd finished her coffee and had enough of the TV, Beth got up and turned it off, then headed to the bedroom and changed into soft leggings and a baggy T-shirt. The cramps were far less worse today, but she still felt a little bloated and the tenderness in her breasts definitely wasn't going away as quickly as the morning sickness had. Nevertheless, she felt well enough – and full of enough caffeine – to grab her phone and head over to apartment 3B.

She didn't wait in front of the door for long before Carol was opening it and giving her a warm smile. She didn't miss the way Carol's eyes swept her up and down, then stopped on her face, searching it. But Beth smiled back and stepped inside as Carol held the door open for her and moved aside.

"Well, good afternoon," Carol said cheerfully, shutting the door and urging her over to sit at the bar.

"Good afternoon," Beth replied sheepishly.

" _Rosie_!" Malachi's voice rang out and he appeared from somewhere between the TV and the couch, sitting where Beth hadn't seen him at first glance. His face was lit up with excitement as he struggled to quickly stand up, then raced over to her on his tiny legs.

Beth opened her arms and caught him as he flung himself against her legs, wrapping his arms around her and staring up with a grin. She smiled down at him. "Hi! Oh my gosh, I haven't seen you in like, two days, I _missed_ you!"

"I missed you, too!" He said loudly, still grinning. "Where'd you _go_?!"

Beth paused but kept smiling and replied in her overly-friendly, little kid voice, "Oh, I didn't go anywhere, I just didn't feel well so I was sleeping when you were home. But I'm better now!"

Malachi stared at Beth thoughtfully, processing her words, then grinned again and showed all his teeth. He let go of her legs and reached up to grab her hand, pulling her towards the living room and the spot he'd been sitting. He had several toys laid out and a couple of books, and there was a cartoon playing on TV.

"Do – d'you wanna watch _Paw Patrol_?" He asked excitedly.

Beth sat with Malachi and listened while he showed her the toys he'd been playing with and the cartoon he'd been watching, and she asked him questions about how his day was going. His mouth was struggling to keep up with how fast his brain was working and seeing her seemed to be the highlight of his day. She spent at least fifteen minutes with him in the living room, talking and laughing and watching the wide range of expressions that would show on his small face.

Malachi grew distracted with some new toys and his words started trailing off, so Beth took an opportunity and slipped away, and he didn't seem to mind considering he could still see her sitting on a stool at the bar. Carol smiled and raised her eyebrows at Beth, sliding a glass of sweet tea across the bar that had been sitting and waiting for her.

"What?" Beth asked, smiling. She lifted the glass to her lips and took a long sip.

Carol shrugged, cupping a mug of coffee between her hands. "Nothin'. It's just cute how much he likes you already. He's mentioned you at least twice a day, _every_ day this week."

Beth blushed lightly, taking another sip of tea. "Yeah, he likes that I read to him. And I played guitar for him one night, turns out he's got a passion for dancin'."

The women chuckled together and Beth saw the twinkle in Carol's eye, but she glanced away and down at her bandana instead.

"So how're you feeling today?" Carol asked after a long moment of silence.

Beth cleared her throat and lifted her eyes again. "Actually, I feel a lot better. The morning sickness is already gone. An' I think the worst of the cramps is over."

Carol smiled, relieved. "Good, that's really good. I didn't say anything to Daryl, but he let you sleep, right?"

Beth smirked to herself but quickly hid it. "Yeah. Um… he didn't bother me at all… I got a lot of rest."

Carol furrowed her brow for a second but then brushed it off. "How's your appetite? Want somethin' to eat?"

Beth shook her head. "No, thank you. It's better, though. I had a big breakfast and, like, a _lot_ of coffee."

She chuckled lightly and Carol smiled, setting her mug down and turning around to begin moving about the kitchen. It appeared she was beginning to make more food. Beth wondered if it was a nervous habit or if she was just the type who wanted to feed anyone who stepped foot in her home.

"Well, that's a good sign," Carol said, glancing back at Beth as she retrieved plates from the cabinet. "I know you're probably still sore, though. Are you gonna skip class tomorrow? 'Cause you could just come an' observe."

Beth spotted her chance to change the subject and turn the focus on Carol for a change, so she grabbed it. "No, I didn't plan on it. Aren't you bringin' that guy? I wanted to meet him. I might just take it easy, or…"

Her voice trailed off and she realized that she was about to mention Daryl and how he'd understand if she wanted to sit on the sidelines for class this week, but then she remembered that would require telling Carol that he _knew_. And then she'd probably get curious about why he knew, or why he'd care. And Beth really didn't feel like going into that right now, especially with Daryl's son sitting less than twenty feet away.

However, she'd successfully distracted Carol because the older woman's voice got the slightest bit more chipper and she said, "Oh – yeah. I'm, um – yeah, I'm definitely bringin' him."

Beth could see the sheepish grin on her face from across the kitchen.

"We had our date last night," Carol continued, staring down at the sandwich she was preparing in front of her with a dreamy look on her face. "It went… well. Really well. I think everyone'll like him."

"Wow, that's awesome," Beth said softly, sipping her tea.

Carol nodded, cutting the sandwich in half and lifting her head to glance back at Beth and smile. "Yeah. Well, let's hope so… We'll see what happens."

Beth couldn't help but relate to the realism expressed in the older woman's sentiment.

"Malachi! Time for lunch," Carol called, carrying the plate to the living room while an excited Malachi watched eagerly and sat down before the coffee table to prepare himself.

Once she was satisfied that the toddler was properly set up to eat without making a very big mess and getting distracted by his toys, she returned to the kitchen and poured herself another cup of coffee. Then she walked around the bar and took a seat on the stool next to Beth, turning to face her. Beth could already tell that the talk of Tobin hadn't been enough to keep the subject off of herself for long.

 _Oh, God, here comes the head shrinking,_ Beth thought, eyeing Carol disdainfully when she glanced away.

The older woman took a long sip of her coffee, then set it down carefully and met Beth's eyes. Her voice came out quiet but serious, "Ya know, I get the feeling that Mal isn't the only one who's growing pretty attached to you…"

Beth's heart sank and she quickly realized that she'd assumed Carol's intentions very incorrectly. She wasn't trying to play counselor right now – she was starting to drift toward playing detective.

"What d'you mean?" Beth asked, blinking her big, blue eyes innocently.

 _There's no way Daryl told her about us,_ she thought. _Right…?_

Carol's expression didn't change. "Well, to be frank, I know you're good with kids – I can see that. You're a nurturuing person by nature. And, ya know, they might be my neighbors, but they're my _family_ , too. And I'm not gonna stand by an' watch them go through something they don't have to… Not that I think you have ill intentions or anything. But – well, you're in a vulnerable place right now, Rosie. You have been since you got here. And these boys, they… have a really big hole in their family, and…"

Her voice trailed off. Beth swallowed hard but didn't break eye contact. Carol took a sip of coffee and cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry, I'm not trying t'scare you or – intimidate you," she said, her voice softer. "And after yesterday… I know there's a lot going on in your head. You're still raw, they're all open wounds. You need a support system, but the most _important_ parts of the healing process can only be done on your own. It's – it can be really _easy_ to get too comfortable and start leaning on… the _wrong_ people… Ya know?"

She was trying to be vague without being _too_ vague. Beth could take a hint, though. Her stomach was fluttering angrily at the thought of Daryl and how she kept pushing it out of her mind that the entire basis of whatever relationship they had was built on a lie. Could Carol tell just from _looking_ at them?

"I would never hurt them," Beth said quietly, unable to tear her eyes away from Carol's.

"Not on purpose," Carol said. "I know that… I don't think that you would, either. But Daryl is… _different_. He doesn't care about many people, but the ones he does, he cares about fiercely… And he's had it rough. It took him a long time t'get where he is now, to open himself up as much as he has. If he does it for the wrong person, well… I just don't really know if he'll have the desire to try again. The one thing that can really break him is misplaced trust… And some people can only be broken so many times."

Beth furrowed her brow, unsure of why she felt anger boiling up inside her. She _was_ a terrible person, so Carol wasn't wrong in thinking these things. Yet it still made her angry – it hurt. And she hated how Carol saw right through her, right through Daryl. Couldn't this woman _ever_ mind her own business?

Then again, she understood why Carol was being so protective over Daryl. He was damaged, too. But Beth couldn't even imagine that she was _capable_ of hurting him. He seemed strong – strong enough to forget about her if she were to say goodbye. He might miss her for a little while, but he'd get over it soon enough. It wouldn't take long for him to realize he was better off without her.

"I dunno what you think is goin' on between us, but it ain't nothin' like _that_ ," Beth said, her voice coming out a little snappier than she'd intended.

Carol pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows, hands still gripped around the coffee mug.

"We enjoy each other's company. We live in the same apartment. Sometimes we talk. But we're not playin' _house_ or something, an' I'm not trying to fill the position of step-mom," she continued, trying not to sound as defensive as she felt. "I spend time with him and Mal. It's – I'm not _tryin'_ ta get attached, but… I'm not gonna push 'em off either. Nothing's set in stone, but didn't you say it'd be good for me to not be alone? To let some of these people in? Like _you_?"

Carol quirked an eyebrow and spoke quietly, "Of course I did. But that's different – me an' the others are adults. He's a _child_ … He doesn't understand that you're gonna leave eventually. He won't understand _why_."

Beth's breath caught in her throat and she quickly looked down at her glass. She couldn't look back into Carol's eyes for a few moments.

"Like I said, nothing's set in stone," she mumbled.

"That's all well enough, but…" Carol trailed off and sighed. She turned toward the bar and looked down at her coffee thoughtfully. "Whatever you choose, whether it's to leave or stay, I just hope that you realize your choices affect others. There are people who care about you, and you may not have intended to pick up _those_ kinds of souvenirs while passing through, but here you are… two weeks later with half a dozen people who would give the shirts off their backs to keep you warm."

The older woman paused again, sipping her coffee while Beth mulled over her words, lips slightly parted but all of her words falling away at the tip of her tongue.

"And," Carol continued, quietly again. " _You_ might not see it, or maybe you're just choosing not to, but one of those people in particular is growing _quite_ fond of you. To the point that I think he might already be willing t'go to the ends of the earth for you, if need be… And I'm _not_ talking about the three-year-old."

Beth blinked and pushed back tears, taking another drink of tea in an attempt to chase them away. She mumbled out, "Well, I dunno why – I would never ask that of him."

She heard Carol exhale through her nose before she said, "You wouldn't have to."

Beth swallowed hard and then turned her head to meet Carol's gaze. It had softened, and she was looking at Beth with sympathy. Beth couldn't quite figure out why, though.

"I'm not – _hurtin'_ anyone," Beth said quietly, briefly narrowing her eyes. "I already – I promised him I wouldn't leave without sayin' goodbye first. He knows… I'm not _stayin'_. We're just roommates. An' friends…"

Carol nodded but she didn't look convinced, and she let an awkward silence settle between them before speaking again. "Are you sure you don't want a pain pill for the cramps? Or even an ibuprofen eight-hundred? _Something_?"

Beth furrowed her brow and stared back at Carol with a quizzical expression on her face. "No, I'm fine – the pain hasn't even been bad since last night. Why?"

Carol raised her eyebrows, looking at Beth as if she should already be able to figure it out. Was she just trying to change the subject, or was she trying to make some other kind of point?

But then she set down her mug and stood up, leaving Beth more confused. "Just making sure. I _do_ have something for you, though, and you'll need it."

Beth furrowed her brow and watched Carol hold up a finger to signal for Beth to wait a moment while she headed down the hall and into her bedroom at the end. She reemerged a few seconds later, carrying something small in her hand, and returned to her seat beside Beth. Then she held out the items for Beth to take. Upon closer inspection, Beth realized it was a pill bottle and a few yellow, plastic packages, each the size of a pack of batteries.

"What's this?" Beth asked, turning over the bottle and reading the label.

"From Dr. Dana. We worked out a way to get some antibiotics in my name for you. I picked 'em up from her today," Carol explained quietly. "And she gave me some samples of birth control to pass on. I guess it slipped her mind at the appointment since it was so… last minute."

Beth shrugged. "Well, I didn't really _ask_ to talk about birth control options – it was the last thing on my mind… An' she sorta seemed like she was afraid I'd have some kind of emotional breakdown after I told her… what I decided."

Carol was gazing at Beth thoughtfully, but Beth was staring down at the plastic bottle and packages in her hands, still inspecting them closely.

"Well, she sees women in your situation all the time – and worse," Carol said. "She's used to it by now. She just wants to do her best t'be prepared. Not everyone is as strong as you, or clear-headed."

Beth almost laughed, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. She looked up and met Carol's eyes again. "I wouldn't say I'm clear-headed… An' I might _look_ strong, but… I don't think what I did makes me strong."

A crease appeared in Carol's forehead and she seemd to be studying Beth's face. She shook her head and said softly, "It doesn't make you weak. You made a decision not everyone can make."

Beth turned back to the glass sitting in front of her, laying the bottle and packages down next to it. She shrugged, pursing her lips and holding back her arguments. Then she grabbed her glass of tea and took a sip, her mouth particularly dry.

She felt Carol's eyes boring into the side of her head and finally turned to meet her gaze.

"You don't have to _punish_ yourself, Rosie," Carol said, speaking quietly and clearly while staring intensely into Beth's eyes.

Beth's stomach rolled over and she quickly looked away and down at the glass in front of her. She tried to sound more convincing than her voice would allow when she muttered, "I'm not…"

She thought back on the pain she'd felt during the surgery, the cramping that had kept her writhing and sweating in bed, and how she'd forced herself to grit her teeth and bear it. Because she _deserved_ it. She thought about the intrusive thoughts that kept reminding her she was twice a murderer now, and the painful stabs of guilt that kept appearing in her chest.

But if _she_ didn't punish herself, then who would? She already had more than she deserved just by being free.

"Whatever happened before you came here, whatever you might've done ta get out," Carol said softly. "You can't hold onto it and blame yourself. If you do, you'll never _really_ be free of him… You did what you _had_ to – that applies to this situation, too."

 _You did what you had to._ That's what Daryl had said, too. Beth's stomach fluttered but it quickly morphed into a cramp. They'd both said these things without knowing the _real_ , full story.

The words started pouring out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she couldn't meet Carol's eyes while they did so. "But I – it was my _fault_. He – the condom broke and I asked him t'stop but… I shoulda done somethin' else. I just _laid_ there. I didn't fight it, I didn't – I coulda taken a morning-after pill or something, but I chose to ignore it and pretend it didn't happen. 'Cause it made me sick just _thinkin'_ about it… I knew better than t'be messin' around with him. And I did anyway. An' I got what I had comin'."

It must've been the cozy, home-like aura that hung around Carol's apartment, or maybe it was the way her eyes searched Beth's face for an answer. But it seemed she couldn't hold anything back lately, and something about the way Carol was looking at her and talking to her, and the way her words were sending tiny knives into the side of Beth's head – it all made her sick with the bottled-up secrets. Something about spewing the words out like vomit made her feel just the slightest bit better, kind of like actually vomiting. She almost immediately regretted it, though.

A quiet voice in the back of her head was asking, _Why are you letting these people get so fucking_ _ **close**_ _?_

Carol glanced over her shoulder toward the living room, checking to make sure Malachi was still occupied with his lunch and cartoon. He wasn't so much as looking in their direction, and the TV was just loud enough to drown out their conversation from the kitchen. Then she turned back to Beth.

"Rosie… that's _rape_ ," Carol whispered out, eyebrows raised as she stared at Beth. But it wasn't the gaping, disbelieving stare that Beth had feared, which was reassuring. Even though her words were falling down on top of Beth like a ton of bricks. "He – it's not pretty to say, but you need to hear it, if someone hasn't told you yet: he _raped_ you. It's not _your_ fault that you got pregnant, it's not _your_ fault that he did that to you… You don't need to punish yourself. He already did more than enough of that. You didn't do anything _wrong_. You don't deserve to suffer forever because you loved someone who _hurt_ you."

Beth asked herself why she would ever listen to this woman. And another part answered, reminding her that Carol, of all people, knew what rape was. And she probably knew just as much about self-punishing.

But she still had no idea about the truth. She had no clue just what Beth had done to deserve everything that happened to her.

Beth furrowed her brow and glanced over to meet Carol's eyes briefly. "But… we were _together_. It wasn't… _rape_. That's not – it's not that serious…"

Sure, she'd thought at one point that what Jimmy had done would be considered rape. But the way he'd looked at her when she uttered the word, the complete disgust that laced his voice when he reminded her that it wasn't _possible_ , and that he wouldn't _do_ that… It had been all she needed to doubt herself. The word had already sounded dirty coming from her mouth, and after seeing his reaction when she accused him, she knew it was far too serious to claim. She felt like the girl who cried wolf, and it had kept her even more quiet.

Could Carol actually be _serious_ in her suggestion that Beth really was raped? She'd never told Maggie or anyone else just because it felt… too personal. But now, she was opening her eyes and starting to understand that maybe it had been because she was too ashamed, too terrified to see the disappointment that would surely have appeared on her big sister's face.

"That doesn't matter," Carol said softly. "Ed and I were _married_ , we had a child together… but by the end of it, he was raping me weekly. Someone you love doing that to you doesn't make it any less _serious_ , it just… if anything, makes it more painful."

Beth's mouth had gone dry again even though she'd just taken a sip of sweet tea. She couldn't look back up into Carol's eyes.

 _Then why do I still feel so numb?_ She silently wondered.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** So **lisasays** alerted me to the fact that I forgot to include the doctor giving Beth antibiotics and discussing birth control options. I'm currently kicking myself for posting without realizing I'd forgotten to add that bit. And that's why I keep notes for reference for like 90% of this fic lmao. So the antibiotics/BC thing was a last-minute fix and I apologize that it's so sloppy. That was completely my mistake of overlooking details. But this is exactly why I ask that readers point out any inconsistencies or mistakes that they come across - because I'm only human, and I miss/forget stuff sometimes! Lol so thank you!  
I hope that Daryl's reaction wasn't disappointing. The funny thing is, for the looongest time, I planned for him to wrongly assume it was his baby and get upset at finding something abortion related and finding out and having a bit of a fight with Beth before they would make up. But then when it came time to write it out, I just... couldn't see it. I couldn't see this Daryl reacting that way. Plus, he's way too observant and smart for that. So this is how it came out and I would love for y'all to let me know what you honestly think! :)  
If you're reading, thank you so so much! Thank you even more if you've followed/favorited/reviewed! Next chapter will be posted in a few days :)


	37. a family of trees wanting to be haunted

_**a family of trees wanting to be haunted**_

Beth and Carol finished their conversation on a much lighter note, Carol managing to steer the subject elsewhere while Beth's mind raced and she mulled over everything Carol had said. The older woman offered her food and she politely accepted, barely listening as Carol chatted away about the upcoming class and Tobin. Beth's brain didn't really slow down until she was helping to put Malachi down for his nap and assuring him she'd see him that evening. She couldn't quite explain it, but something about looking down into his big, innocent, blue eyes made her forget most of the things that were constantly looming in the foreground of her conscience. He and Daryl seemed to share that ability, but Daryl's was for _much_ different reasons.

She didn't really want to think about that right now, though. It was bad enough that she had to look Carol in the eyes while she explained to Beth that she had to take the antibiotics until they were all gone. Beth didn't fail to notice the way Carol had avoided mentioning the birth control altogether. Maybe Dana had actually kept everything confidential and didn't mention what Beth had told her about having a new sexual partner – it would be all too obvious that it was Daryl if Carol were to find that out. And there was no way Beth could dodge the questions. For now, she hoped Carol was sufficed with thinking that Dr. Dana had wanted Beth to have them as an option, just in case.

She returned to apartment 3A, shutting the door behind her and checking her phone to find a text message from Clementine. She would be on her way over shortly. Beth sent back a confirmation, then opened up the new pill bottle and took one of the antibiotics, heading over and grabbing a bottled water from the fridge to chase it down. She screwed the cap back on tightly and gathered the pill bottle and the yellow packs of birth control and took them to her bedroom, where she stashed them in the highest drawer from the floor and tucked each item into a sock.

Beth shut the door of her bedroom and went back out to the living room, plopping down on the couch and letting out a deep breath of relief. She was glad to be alone again for a little while. Although she was quickly finding that the silence was only giving her mind more chances to be loud. She turned on the TV at a low volume, then pulled out her phone to scroll through the day's news headlines. It helped to keep her from mulling over Carol's words any longer. After a while, she found herself reading the news just because it had caught her attention, and after fifteen minutes with no sign of her family's name, she kind of forgot about searching for updates on their case. Once again, no news was good news.

A knock came at the front door and shook Beth from her thoughts. She tossed her phone down on the couch and got up to go to the door, standing on tiptoes and peering through the peephole. As she'd expected, Clem was standing in the hall, wearing a backpack, a light hoodie and gray leggings, and a messy bun. Beth quickly opened the door, finding herself genuinely excited to see the other girl. She briefly wondered if she was just craving the companionship of someone closer to her own age after spending so much time with Carol – who kind of reminded her of her momma in a good way… but also in some bad ways.

"Smells good in here," Clem commented, slipping her bag off her shoulders and slinging it onto one of the dining chairs. She wandered towards the kitchen. "Still got some coffee?"

"It's prob'ly cold by now," Beth said, lingering in the middle of the living room, amused at the way Clem moved around the apartment like it was her second home. Something about it felt nice – like they'd been friends for ages and it was just another day of visiting Beth at her apartment.

Or rather, "Rosie."

Clem shrugged and inspected the coffeepot herself, but grimaced at the sight. "Damn," she muttered. She went about opening the fridge and freezer to gaze around, then spotted the cabinet above the freezer and opened it to find the liquor bottles. "One of these yours?"

Beth nodded even though she was looking at Clem's back. "The moonshine. The whiskey is Daryl's – I wouldn't touch it."

Clem chuckled and pulled down the moonshine bottle, turning to Beth with a suggestive smile on her face. "What d'ya think? Wanna have a little Friday drink?"

Beth shrugged indifferently.

"I had a long day at school," Clem said, turning back around to dig out a couple of glasses from the cabinet. "Want one or you gonna pass?"

"I guess one couldn't hurt," Beth mumbled, wandering over and standing on the threshold of the kitchen while she watched Clem pour two small glasses of moonshine. She'd eaten both breakfast and lunch today, and her stomach was actually feeling normal again, so the idea didn't appall her like it would've two days ago.

"Got anything to mix it with?" Clem asked, returning the liquor to its cabinet and opening the fridge to peer inside again.

"Umm, I think we just have ginger ale," Beth said, trying to remember. "Unless you wanna use one of Mal's juice boxes."

She smiled and Clem laughed, "Ha! That might not be too bad, actually…"

But Clem seemed to pass on the mixer because she shut the fridge again and grabbed the glasses, holding one out for Beth to take. She couldn't help but think of Daryl as she reached out and wrapped her hand around the glass, and a tiny flutter went through her stomach at the memory.

"What happened at school?" Beth asked, following Clem to the couch and sitting down on one end while Clem plopped herself down on the other, the two girls facing each other while the TV sat on mute.

Clem shrugged and took a sip from her glass, and Beth saw her face scrunch up as she winced at the taste. She chuckled at the sight and Clem looked up with a playful smirk.

"Eh, nothing in particular. Just a lot of homework and, for some reason, we have a bunch of tests coming up even though we _just_ started a couple weeks ago," Clem explained, rolling her eyes. "It's annoying... This stuff's pretty strong, you drink this regularly?"

Beth laughed. "No – just when I feel like havin' a drink. Not that often. You get used to it – I guess it's an acquired taste."

Clem gave Beth a comical look. " _Acquired_ _taste_ just means it's bad and people force it down anyway."

Beth giggled and retorted with, "Isn't _all_ alcohol an acquired taste then?"

Clem shrugged. "I dunno - Tara's made some drinks that _actually_ tasted really good. From what I can remember anyway."

The girls laughed together.

Clem took another sip of moonshine and asked, "So you're coming to class tomorrow, right?"

Beth nodded. "Yeah, I planned on it. Carol said she's bringin' Tobin – they went on a date last night."

Clem raised her eyebrows. "Oh, I forgot about that. Cool, we can finally see what he looks like."

Beth smirked. "What, you expectin' him to be ugly?"

Clem chuckled. "Not necessarily, but… I dunno, I'm more worried about whether or not he's a total dick."

"If Carol likes him, then I doubt it. She said their date went _really_ well," Beth said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively and making Clem giggle.

"Oooh, wonder if she already put out or if she's making him wait?" Clem joked.

Beth was about to retort with a sarcastic comment, but she saw Clem sitting up and looking down at the couch beneath her quizzically. Then she pulled Beth's phone from between the cushions and glanced at it, eyes lighting up with realization.

"You got a text from Daryl," Clem said, looking up from the screen of the phone to meet Beth's eyes.

Beth hadn't realized she'd left her phone on the couch, right where Clem had sat down. She felt her cheeks heating up and she held her hand out, trying to remain casual. "Oh – what's it say?"

"' _You feeling up to joining us tonight?_ '" Clem read aloud right before placing the phone in Beth's hand and relaxing back into the cushions of the couch. But she was giving Beth a very suggestive look, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Who's _us_? Him and Malachi? What d'you guys got planned tonight?"

Beth glanced down at the phone to see that the text message from Daryl said exactly those words, but she darkened the screen and shoved the phone beneath her leg on the couch, trying to force her face to stop turning red. She shrugged and took a sip of moonshine before answering quietly, "Yeah, he jus' means dinner. That's all."

But Clem's eyebrows weren't lowering. "That's _all_? Really?"

Beth furrowed her brow and tried to appear clueless while random images of being wrapped up in Daryl's naked limbs were flashing through her mind. "Yeah… Why d'you keep lookin' at me like that? What're you tryin' ta say?"

Clem scoffed and smirked knowingly then took another sip from her glass. She kept her brown eyes focused on Beth's, unwavering. "I know we haven't known each other long, but… _c'mon_. You don't have to _lie_ to me, Rosie."

Beth's cheeks were warm again and she wanted to press an icepack against her face. But she smiled innocently. " _Lie_ to you? About _what_?"

Clem shook her head, studying Beth's face. Then she quirked an eyebrow and said, "You and Daryl? Roommates… friends… now you have _dinner_ together? Like a family…?"

Beth blinked and finally averted her gaze away from Clem's, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a tentative sip. She was shuffling through a whole stack of lies, trying to decide which was the most believable.

But Clem was anything but stupid, or gullible. Beth thought she must've had senses as keen as Carol's to be able to read people the way she did. Or maybe Beth was just way more transparent than she thought. Daryl, too, for that matter.

"It's just dinner," Beth assured, maintaining her innocent expression and meeting Clem's eyes again. "Sometimes I read to Mal… he likes it. I guess I'm kinda gettin' attached to him."

Clem shrugged. "That's a given. But the fact that you've only been here two weeks and you and Daryl already text each other… I dunno. I don't think you realize how closed-off this dude actually is."

Beth furrowed her brow. "He's quiet, sure. And he's not exactly outgoing... But he's not _cold_."

"I didn't say he was," Clem said. "He's just _super_ guarded. He does his own thing, keeps to himself, and the only person I've ever seen him treat like an actual friend is Carol…"

Beth was shaking her head and half-smiling, as if Clem were being ridiculous and talking about something she didn't know about.

"Till _you_ came along," Clem finished.

Beth's head stopped and she stared at Clem, studying her face. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

Clem raised her eyebrows. "Not anything bad. Just – we could never get him to come out with us or hang out after class, and he never really talked to any of us like friends, except Tara and maybe Denise, sometimes... But then you moved in and suddenly, he was down to come to our party – shit, he _danced_. In front of _everyone_ … _With you_."

Beth swallowed hard and took a long sip of her moonshine, Clem's eyes burning a hole through her skin.

"I mean… it's not like you guys really tried to _hide_ it," she finished, a little quieter. "Then the way he looked at you in class last week, and – okay, I'm pretty sure I saw him staring at your _tits_ when we were about to leave for Rosita's party… Dude is _not_ as subtle as he thinks. You must be blind if you really aren't catching that stuff."

Beth shrugged and tried to laugh it off, but it sounded awkward. She had no other cards to play here. Clementine had made her point, and it was a good one. Beth hadn't even thought about how obvious they might've seemed to everyone at the party – at the time, she'd thought they were just being friendly, and no one would see it as anything other than that. Now she was realizing that was a naïve thing for her to have assumed. And she'd known Clem was observant, but she'd still been denying to herself that anyone paid that close of attention to the clues Daryl let slip through. Apparently, his recent demeanor was a lot stranger to those who'd known him for a little while.

"I don't know him the way you guys do," she finally said, her voice sounding more confident than she felt as she conjured up another white lie. "I just met him a few days before I met y'all. But I haven't been doing anythin' more than tryin' ta make friends. If he's got other ideas, then he hasn't made it very clear to _me_ , 'cause everything we've done so far has been what I thought was part of bein' friends and roommates…"

It was a good lie. Good enough for the time being, anyway. Her only choice now was to play ignorant and hope that Clem bought it. Even if she didn't, there was still some truth to it. If it hadn't been for Daryl kissing Beth, and _other_ _things…_ Beth probably would've never guessed Daryl felt any particular way about her. It was completely true that she didn't know him the way they all did, the way Carol or Tara or Rosita did. She didn't know his tendencies, except what she'd come to observe since living with him. And she wasn't one to assume that any of his subtle actions were to be interpreted as attraction.

Clem seemed partially convinced, but her eyes were still studying Beth curiously. Then she smirked again and said, "So if he _did_ make it clear to you… what would you do?"

 _Shit, how am I supposed to lie about this?_ Beth thought, looking down at her glass. _Why am I being interrogated about it? Does she_ _ **want**_ _us together or something?_

Beth shrugged and put on her most nonchalant tone. "I dunno… I don't think he sees me that way, but even if he did – he's a little too old fer me, don't ya think?"

That was a pretty fluid subject change, she hoped. Although it was something that she'd actually thought about in passing a handful of times, but pushed off for the most part. After all the other things she had to consider when sleeping with Daryl, the age difference seemed like such a non-issue. It was barely a thought at all. Sure, if Beth's life and situation were a little more normal and she and Daryl had met under extremely different circumstances, their age gap might be a problem. But sitting amongst Beth's towering pile of skeletons, it seemed minute and trivial. Eighteen and thirty-two was a pretty sizable gap, after all. Yet most of the time, Beth didn't _feel_ eighteen – she hadn't felt like an actual teenager for most of her teenage life. And a lot of the time, she forgot that Daryl was older than her. She wasn't sure what that said about him. However, it was an overall good point to bring up as a distraction for Clem – who was under the impression that "Rosie" _was_ mostly normal.

Yet Clem laughed. She took another sip of moonshine and her cheeks flushed for a brief moment. Then she said, "Are you kidding? Who gives a shit. He doesn't really act like he's in his thirties anyway... Not that _I'd_ do him, but he's still pretty hot for being a middle-aged dad."

Beth couldn't hold back at hearing this and giggled, shaking her head. " _Wo-ow!_ "

Now Clem was blushing lightly, laughing along with Beth and asking, " _What_? I'm just being honest! C'mon, like you haven't seen the way he looks on that bike…?!"

Beth laughed louder and sipped her moonshine to hide the redness in her cheeks.

* * *

 _Beth didn't hear or see T-Dog leave after his make-shift surgery. By the time Hershel, Shawn, and Glenn joined the girls at dinner, most of the food was lukewarm and Beth was finishing her last bites. Her momma sent her off to her room after the dishes and she didn't argue. Instead, she silently obeyed and hid away in her room for the rest of the night, writing in her journal and listening to music._

 _It was well past eleven, and well past Beth's bedtime, when she heard her daddy, Maggie, and Shawn going into the study. She stood at her bedroom door and held it open a tiny crack, just enough for her to see out into the hallway and toward the door of the study. But it was shut tight and she could only make out muffled voices from inside. Beth knew her momma was just down the hall, in the master bedroom but not sleeping, so she decided against stepping foot into the hall._

 _Beth watched with one eye through her door for a while, but when she realized they'd be in there for a while, she slinked away back to her desk, where her journal lay open. But she couldn't focus enough to write. She knew T-Dog was probably fine, but what she didn't know was what it all meant for her family and their farm and church._

 _It was none of her business, sure. Her momma liked to tell her, "Don't you worry about grown-up things until you_ _ **have**_ _to worry about grown-up things. Leave all that to us." But technically, Beth would be a "grown-up" in less than a year. What then? A crash course in all the stuff that had been hidden from her for over a decade? Or would they just pack her up, send her away, and hope for the best? Either way, she did not feel even the_ _ **slightest**_ _bit prepared._

 _Beth heard more footsteps on the stairs and the landing, so she silently rushed back to her door and peeked out again. It was Glenn approaching the door to the study. She watched as he readied to knock and turn the knob, but before he had the chance, the door swung wide open and Maggie was storming out in a flash of brown hair and red cheeks._

" – _No, it's just what you think is best. That doesn't mean yer always_ _ **right**_ _!" She huffed as she looked over her shoulder into the study with a scowl, trying to keep her voice hushed but failing as her anger leaked through._

 _Beth couldn't hear her daddy or Shawn, or what their responses were to that – if they even had any. She didn't even have any idea what had prompted Maggie's anger or made her leave the study so abruptly. But she knew it couldn't be good._

 _Maggie shut the study door behind her, just short of slamming it, and glanced toward Beth's bedroom door. Beth's breath caught in her throat and she froze, but Maggie either couldn't see Beth's eye through the tiny crack in the door, or she didn't care, because she turned her head to Glenn and gestured for him to follow her to the bedroom they shared._

 _Beth watched them disappear behind their bedroom door and when they didn't emerge for a few seconds, she went back to her desk. Shawn and her daddy must've still been in the study, talking, because she hadn't seen them or heard their footsteps leaving yet. But the muffled voices from inside had become nearly silent, at least from where Beth was._

 _She shut her diary and shoved it into her desk drawer as usual, then went to her bed and prepared to lie down for the night. Before she could shut off her bedside lamp, though, there was a light knock at her door._

" _Come in," Beth called, just loud enough to be heard right outside the door. She stood beside her bed and watched as Maggie slowly pushed open the bedroom door and entered, closing it quietly behind her._

" _Hey," her big sister greeted, putting on a very forced smile as she approached the bed and stood near the end._

" _Everythin'… okay?" Beth asked, furrowing her brow._

 _Even if Maggie hadn't seen her watching, she could still guess that Beth had overheard her little outburst. In fact, Beth was surprised her momma hadn't come out and scolded Maggie. But maybe she just felt like staying out of it tonight. Annette had had to step in between Maggie and Hershel a lot lately, and it worried Beth. Her momma had always taken Hershel's side for as long as Beth could remember – the epitome of a dutiful wife – but in the last couple of years, since Maggie begun getting more confrontational, more bossy, more demanding and interrogative of Hershel's decisions, Annette had actually backed her up a couple of times. Beth didn't know what it all meant, but she kept staring at all these random puzzle pieces in her hands and trying to figure out how they all fit together. She knew the ever-growing police presence certainly wasn't helping anything. But could it really be as simple as that?_

 _Maggie sighed and rubbed her forehead, bags under her eyes and a million worries etched onto her face. She gestured toward the bed and walked around to approach the side Beth stood on. "Let's… sit down."_

 _Beth's heart sped up a little and she started to get worried but tried not to let it show. She put on her brave face and sat down, gazing at Maggie expectantly and watching her sit down lightly on the edge of the bed beside her. They were turned toward each other, and Maggie seemed to be contemplating the words in her head._

 _She finally looked up to meet Beth's eyes and started quietly, "Dad really… doesn't want me tellin' you anything. But I don't think that's fair. I think… you're old enough now, there's some things you_ _ **have**_ _ta know. Not just for your sake, but for all of us. I tried tellin' him that, but… well, you know Daddy."_

 _Beth feigned a smile and nodded, waiting for her sister to go on._

 _Maggie licked her lips and took in a breath, then went on, "Bethy… we're in too deep. That man, The Governor, he… he doesn't want us leavin'. Daddy screwed up… He did. We_ _ **all**_ _did. And this guy has… well, he's dangerous, Beth. Very dangerous."_

" _His men did that to T-Dog?" Beth asked softly, and Maggie seemed surprised until she realized that Beth had overheard more in the barn than she'd originally thought._

 _Maggie nodded and replied, "Yeah… and that's just the start of it. We don't know how bad it could get. We… we're tryin' ta get out. But… it's hard. We got in really deep. It's… it's not so cut-an'-dry anymore. There's a lotta people…"_

 _Her voice trailed off and she sighed and looked away from Beth's eyes. Beth felt the anxiety building in her chest._

' _This really_ _ **isn't**_ _good,' she thought to herself, watching her sister pinch the bridge of her nose and take another deep breath._

" _I – I been tryin' ta get Daddy to… lemme show you how to shoot," Maggie went on, voice softer and fringed with unshed tears. "But he's so damn adamant against it… Me an' Glenn tried talkin' sense into him. Hell, even_ _ **Shawn**_ _took my side, and he didn't – well, nevermind. Jus'… just know that me an' Shawn are looking out for you. Daddy is, too, but… yer not a little kid anymore, Beth. You haven't been for a while. You know more than you let on, and I… I just want you t'be okay."_

 _Beth raised her eyebrows and felt a knot building in her throat, but she swallowed past it. She watched her sister struggling and turning away from her again to look at the floor and blink away tears. Then Maggie was lifting her head and meeting Beth's eyes again, putting on her token "unbreakable Maggie" face._

 _Beth spoke first, though. "I'll be fine. I know… I know how t'stay safe. You might not think you have, but you've taught me a lot. So has Daddy. But I'll only be okay if… if_ _ **you**_ _guys are okay. Yer my family, you're all I have…"_

 _She hesitated, watching Maggie struggle to retain her strong demeanor. Then Beth asked quietly, "What about… you an' Glenn's family? Your future? Like we talked about before your wedding…"_

 _She could see Maggie swallowing hard before she spoke, "I'm… not so sure about me anymore, Bethy. That life – me an' Glenn… we know what we got ourselves into..."_

 _She opened her mouth and paused, then seemed to change her mind and said, "Mom, Dad, Shawn… Arnold, Otis, Patricia… We had a choice a long time ago and we made it. But you didn't – you never made_ _ **any**_ _choices. You're the only_ _ **truly**_ _innocent person on this farm… I'm pretty much fucked either way, but if I can get_ _ **you**_ _outta here… that's all I want. That's all I'm_ _ **hopin'**_ _for anymore."_

 _Beth's mouth suddenly went very dry and she felt a pit opening up in the bottom of her stomach. She'd never heard Maggie talk like this. Not to her, anyway. Not so openly. It had always been about the future, even if it was a very distant future._

 _Maggie's mouth was still open, like she had more to say, but she was gazing off blankly, lost in her own thought. Beth sat and watched her, waited. She could feel the weight of her older sister's words before they'd even come out._

" _We…" Maggie paused again and met Beth's eyes, her voice solemn. "We have to be_ _ **prepared**_ _, Beth. D'you hear me? We need to be ready for whatever's comin'. Not even Daddy knows what to expect anymore… You, me, Shawn, Glenn – we gotta be prepared. We all got jobs to do, okay? And right now, yours is t'be careful. Be watchful – and be_ _ **ready**_ _…"_

 _Beth was soaking in Maggie's words, blue eyes staring into green unwaveringly. Beth nodded weakly, but it felt like her lips had grown together. Her sister's voice was sending chills down her spine._

 _Maggie raised her eyebrows and added quietly, "Can you do that?"_

 _Beth nodded again with a bit more fervor. Maggie pursed her lips and Beth could see her swallowing hard. She glanced away thoughtfully for a second then back, her eyes boring into Beth's._

 _Maggie sighed, sounding exhausted. She went on more gently, "You know, Daddy didn't mean fer this… He was tryin' ta make a better life fer us. Tryin' ta save our home, the farm, our church… He wanted you ta have everything he couldn't give me or Shawn, he wanted us – to have a_ _ **chance**_ _…"_

 _Beth thought about the day Hershel had sat her down at the dining room table. He'd seemed so happy, so hopeful back then._

 _It had changed so quickly._

 _Maggie added quietly, "You know that… right?"_

 _Beth nodded weakly and finally managed to form a reply. "'Course I do."_

* * *

Beth and Clementine had settled down and gradually drifted to watching TV and scrolling through their phones. Beth was glad that Clem had gotten bored with their conversation about Daryl and hoped to avoid any more talk of him. She'd briefly texted him back once Clem had grown distracted, assuring him that she was feeling much better and would definitely be joining him and Malachi for dinner.

Her head was getting a little swimmy from the moonshine, and she could see the tint of pink in Clem's face as she occasionally sipped on her second glass. They were casually talking and joking, enjoying each other's company without any pressure of entertaining one another. And it had proven to distract Beth for a while, lifting her mood just the slightest.

Beth thought her favorite part about Clem might've been the fact that she was almost positive the two of them wouldn't have been friends if they'd met at any other point in their lives – whether it was in Georgia or New York. Clementine was different and smart and intimidating, in her own way. She would've _never_ been allowed around the farm, maybe not even the church – she was too observant, too defiant. Beth's daddy wouldn't have trusted her. Maggie probably wouldn't have either.

They'd been discussing some book that Clem was assigned to read in class, and then their words had trailed off and they were distracted by their phones again. The only sounds in the living room were the low volume of the TV and the buzz of the city coming in through the windows. Clem made an intrigued humming from her throat, waiting a moment before speaking and interrupting the silence.

"You met that Spencer guy at the party, right?" She asked, still staring down at her phone and slowly scrolling through something.

Beth had been doing nothing more than scrolling through nonsense social media posts, so she lifted her eyes and looked over at Clem. "Um, the tall guy with the brown hair? And the jawline?"

"Yeah," Clem confirmed, still not looking up. "I guess Rosita's hooking up with him now."

Beth raised her eyebrows, recalling a text message she'd received a couple of days ago. "Oh, yeah – didn't you tell me that the other day?"

"Well, I said I _thought_ she'd started hooking up with him, but I wasn't sure," Clem clarified. "But, yeah… definitely."

Beth felt her phone vibrate in her hand and looked down at the screen to find a new text message from Daryl. She quickly tapped it and read:

 _Can't wait._

She smiled to herself but quickly wiped it away so as not to appear too obvious, trying to remember what Clem had been talking about. "Oh – so what?"

She looked up and saw Clem shrugging. "I'm just wondering if she's gonna start dating him. She kinda has a problem with relationship-hopping."

 _Can't say I'm really one to talk about that,_ Beth thought, unable to ignore the fact that she was sleeping with a new guy less than a month after breaking up with the first. Another one of those little details that she didn't like to pile on top of all the bigger impasses.

But she said, "I guess some people just don't really know how t'be alone."

Clem nodded absent-mindedly, then looked up from her phone to take a small sip of moonshine and gaze towards Beth. "Yeah, I guess… I should probably keep my nose out of it, but she always ends up getting hurt. It just sucks to watch her setting herself up for it again... Tara gave up trying to talk sense into her once she started seeing Austin – if _she_ can't get through to her, no one can."

Beth furrowed her brow slightly. "Well, you never know who'll hurt her and who won't. Maybe she just needs to find out on her own. Sometimes that's the only way you can figure out what you're lookin' for."

Clem shrugged. "Yeah, probably. What do I know, I don't even have somebody that I like in that way. Everybody sucks, if you ask me."

Beth smirked and watched Clem's face, waiting for her to smile, but she didn't. "That's not a very uplifting outlook."

Clem leaned back into the couch and rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling, a dissatisfied look on her face. "What can I say, my realism is my downfall… Doesn't help that I have to be around my asshole parents all the time. All I ever hear anymore is two people tearing each other down – it's like poison, dude. It's infectious. I've been so _pissed_ _off_ lately."

Beth furrowed her brow as she realized Clem was serious, and she could see the pain being hidden on the tawny-skinned girl's face. Was that why she'd wanted to come hang out? To get away from the toxic environment inside her own home? Had they both decided to spend time together as a distraction from their personal problems without realizing it?

"I kinda figured it wouldn't get much better," Beth said softly, recalling their brief, past conversations about Clem's parents' fighting and trying to sound compassionate. "That sucks, though. Are you thinkin' about moving out?"

Clem shrugged and sighed, taking another sip of moonshine and looking back at Beth with clouded eyes. "I dunno. I can't really afford it right now while I'm in school, but… they're gonna get divorced. I know it's coming. I just wish they'd get it over with already. It's like, they don't even _care_ that they're making _me_ suffer with them."

Beth frowned, listening attentively and nodding in understanding. "Aren't you sad, though?"

Confusion crossed Clem's face and she asked, "Why would I be?"

"'Cause they're your parents and they're gettin' divorced," Beth said softly. " _I'd_ be sad… They're s'posed to love each other. It doesn't give you a lotta hope for yer own relationships if you have t'watch them fall out of love."

Clem's eyes glistened slightly, but she quickly turned her head and Beth was almost certain it had just been a trick of the light. Then Clem sniffled quietly and drained the rest of her glass before meeting Beth's gaze. She still appeared indifferent, but Beth was starting to see that most of it was a mask – kind of like Maggie's.

"It'll be better once they admit it's over and separate. It sucks, but I'm not gonna let it ruin my whole outlook on love or some shit," Clem said. "What about _your_ parents? They never divorced?"

 _They loved each other until my momma's last breath. And long after that,_ Beth thought, blinking.

She shrugged. "Long story… Let's just be thankful that Rosita is hookin' up with somebody who's _not_ a total douchebag. Or, let's hope so. D'you know him very well?"

Clem set her empty glass down on the coffee table and put her feet up onto the couch, slip-on shoes left on the floor. "Not super well, I've met him a few times when he was hanging out with Tara and Rosita. But she's known him longer than she knew that Austin dude before they started bangin', so I guess that's saying something…"

" _Ehh_ ," Beth made a sound of uncertainty. "We're not exactly settin' the bar high if we're only hopin' for better than Austin…"

Clem snickered. "Yeah, good point… _Ugh_ , he kept making Asian jokes when I was in Tara's kitchen with him. He even called me ' _Oriental'_ once. It was _so-oo_ hard not to punch him in the throat."

Beth sneered in disgust. "Ew, and just when I thought he couldn't get any more disgusting. I dunno why you _didn't_ punch him…"

"'Cause he was Rosita's boyfriend-thing. I didn't wanna start any drama," Clem muttered, scrolling through her phone again.

Beth picked up her own phone and did the same, just for the sake of occupying her hands. A few moments of silence passed, the sound of honking car horns drifting in through the windows as rush hour traffic was building up outside.

Then Clem asked casually, "So what were you doing all week? You said you were pretty busy. You get a job or something?"

Beth shook her head and answered without really processing the question yet. "No…"

"Oh – Daryl's not making you his personal maid, is he?" Clem asked with a playful smile, meeting Beth's eyes again.

"Yeah, _right_ ," Beth chuckled, but the cramps were making themselves known in her lower abdomen and she winced for a brief second. "No, I was jus' – not feelin' that great."

" _Ew_ – it's not contagious, is it?" Clem asked, putting on a comically over-exaggerated look of disgust.

Beth probably would've laughed, normally. Instead, she said, "Actually… um, I kinda had t'take care of somethin'. With my ex…"

Clem's face fell and she stared at Beth with wide eyes. "Oh – for real?"

Beth nodded, her cheeks growing warm.

"He didn't – he hasn't _found_ you, has he?" Clem asked, concern building on her face. "Daryl wouldn't let him near you, right? You can stay with me if you need somewhere he won't look for you."

Beth shook her head, and the words burst out of her without a second thought. "No – it's nothin' like that... I – uh, I was pregnant."

Clem's face relaxed somewhat, but she was still giving Beth a quizzical look. "Oh… seriously? What happened? Did you lose it? Are you okay?"

Something about the genuine concern in Clem's voice made Beth feel a little stronger, a little reassured. She couldn't explain why, and she still didn't know why she trusted this other girl so much. But there was just something about her that Beth related to, or aspired to, or envied. Whatever it was, she was suddenly heart-warmed to hear that Clem wanted to help – just like Carol, and Dr. Hatfield, and Daryl. She was starting to resent how right Carol had actually been about all the people who cared.

Beth slowly shook her head, glancing away while she quietly said, "No… I had a… an abortion."

She forced her eyes to meet Clem's again, at least to see the reaction on her face. And once again, Beth was surprised to see that it was unchanged. Clem didn't seem surprised or shocked or, in the least bit, appalled. She merely frowned in sympathy.

"Damn, dude, that sucks," she muttered comfortingly. "You're okay, though?"

Beth nodded, studying Clem's face and searching for the judgment. It wasn't there. "You don't… think I'm gross?"

Clem furrowed her brow and smirked as if Beth had told a confusing joke. "Huh? Why would I think you're _gross_?"

Beth's face went red and she looked away, shrugging. "I dunno."

Clem seemed to understand, though, and she sniggered. "You're not down south anymore, homegirl. Nobody cares what you do up here, as long as you're not slowing down anybody else's day... You're not the first friend I've had tell me about an abortion, and you won't be the last. It's not like I don't understand… Even if I didn't, it's none of _my_ business. Your life, your choices."

Beth relaxed. Somehow, Clem's words were almost more comforting than Carol's had been.

"I mean, you didn't go to like, a back alley surgeon or something, did you?" Clem asked, and Beth looked up to see a half-joking smirk on her face.

"Actually, Carol hooked me up with one of her connections," she explained, and the look on Clem's face told her that the other girl didn't know whether to believe her or not.

"Really?" Clem asked.

Beth nodded. "We had t'go clear to the Bronx, but they didn't ask questions about my situation. I think they deal with girls like me all the time."

"Oh, wow – so Carol really came through. That's good," Clem remarked, sounding relieved. "So it went okay? You're… better now?"

"Yeah," Beth said softly. "Er, gettin' there. But yeah."

Clem nodded understandingly, then asked curiously, "What would you have done otherwise?"

Beth raised her eyebrows. "If I didn't have Carol, or she didn't have friends with clinics?"

Clem nodded.

Beth shrugged and her eyes drifted downward as she contemplated the question. She'd put a lot of thought into it, before she'd mustered up the courage to go to Carol and ask for help. But she still didn't have a definitive answer. In fact, she didn't like to think much about the 'what if's in this situation. Dwelling on them made her stomach hurt.

She replied, "I'ono… I guess… probably would've jus' taken the risk of my ex finding me. Probably would've put it off till it was too late, though… I'd prob'ly be stuck with somethin' a lot more difficult t'deal with…"

She looked up to meet Clem's eyes again and saw the other girl watching her thoughtfully. Then Clem muttered, "Well, thank _God_ for Carol."

Beth didn't know why she smiled, but she did, and agreed. "Yeah - thank God for Carol."

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** The flashback is from the same day in November 2016 that T-Dog was shot and patched up in the barn. I came across a piece of fanart on Tumblr, a painting of Beth and Maggie by the artist Raun Edaño, and it reminded me of this fic. If you'd like to see it, as well as the link to the artist's website, go to AO3 dot org /works/13062762/chapters/34148525 . I posted it along with the chapter because I felt it fit the flashback. Thank you to everyone who's been reading and reviewing, you all are amazing and I can't believe we're almost 40 chapters in :)


	38. in a tidal wave of mystery

_**in a tidal wave of mystery;**_

Clem left around five-thirty, muttering something about hoping her dad would be working late again so she wouldn't have to suffer through dinner with both of her parents. Without any warning, she'd leaned in and hugged Beth on her way out, and Beth had hugged her back, though it felt odd. She wasn't sure why – she'd never been one to shy away from platonic affection. Maybe it was partly due to how she was having trouble convincing herself that these girls were actually friends who cared about her. There was still a part of her mind that was convinced they wouldn't bat an eye if she up and disappeared without a word.

Beth checked her phone, expecting to find another text message from Daryl. But there wasn't any more word from him. It was nearing six when she headed into the kitchen, putting away clean dishes and rummaging around in the cabinets for an idea of something to make for dinner. Her stomach was rumbling and she knew that if she didn't eat, she'd end up drifting off to sleep from the little bit of moonshine she'd had. She assumed Daryl didn't have a meal planned and she didn't want to risk missing out on dinner and reading time.

She had just finished cleaning up the kitchen and was still looking around in the cabinets, a packet of mix in her hand while she searched for something to go with it, when she heard the front door unlock and open. Then she heard Malachi's voice growing louder. She stepped over to the bar and looked across it to see Daryl struggling to balance a couple of pizza boxes atop one hand while the other held his motorcycle helmet and keys. She quickly dropped the packet in her hand and rushed around to the front door, reaching out and grabbing the boxes from Daryl's hand.

"Here – lemme help," she said, and he handed them over, freeing up his hand so he could finally pull the keys from the door.

"Thanks," he grunted.

"Rosie! Yer here!" Malachi said excitedly, and Beth turned and looked down at him to see a big grin on his face.

"Hi! I _told_ you I'd be here," she smiled.

"Ya didn't start cookin', did ya?" Daryl asked, glancing towards the kitchen and noticing the light was on.

Beth shook her head, carrying the pizza boxes over to the kitchen and setting them down on the counter. "No, I was just about to, actually. I didn't know you were bringin' pizza home."

"Sorry, shoulda texted ya," he said, slipping off his backpack and vest and hanging the vest up on the coatrack. Beth noticed he'd been wearing it and smiled to herself. He set about untying his boots and slipping them off. "Figured it's Friday an' it's been awhile since me an' the kid had pizza. His idea, I jus' went with it."

"Yeah – it was _my_ idea!" Malachi said happily. "And-and Dad said _yes_!"

Beth raised her eyebrows and looked down at Malachi with feigned surprise. "What? _You_?! Does that mean you love pizza as much as I do?"

Malachi's eyes widened. "Um – yes! Um, how much – how much d'you love pizza? OH! D'you like uh, do you like cheese? Or peppa-woni? Dad asked me and I said, I said, um – I said that I think it's cheese."

Beth smiled. "Well, you guessed right. How did you know?"

Mal grinned again. "I'm pie-sick!"

Beth paused, trying to figure out what he meant. Daryl stepped into the hall, his boots left by the front door and motorcycle helmet in his hand, and paused in front of the kitchen.

"Mal, yer sayin' it wrong," he said, looking down at his son. "It's _psy_ - _chic_."

Mal turned and looked at his dad, then opened his eyes larger and nodded. He turned back to Beth and spoke slowly, "I'm… side-kick."

Beth covered her mouth as she giggled and Daryl scoffed from where he stood, shaking his head and chuckling quietly. "We'll work on it."

He urged the toddler out of the kitchen and down the hallway, toward the bedroom and bathroom, then paused and turned to Beth. "Picked up some stuff I thought ya might want, too."

Beth furrowed her brow. "Like what?"

He held up his finger to signal for her to wait a moment while he stepped away and retrieved his backpack from where it sat by the coatrack. He pulled out a plastic bag and brought it over, handing it to her.

"Jus' some like – more pads, an' I dunno if it's anythin' like a really bad period or somethin', but I got some chocolate, too," he explained sheepishly, his cheeks turning pink as he watched Beth open the bag and peer inside.

She smiled and looked back up at him. "Thanks. That's really thoughtful of you."

Daryl shrugged and cleared his throat. "Don't mention it."

He gave her a brief nod then turned and headed toward the bathroom and bedroom to join Malachi, walking a little quicker than usual. Beth watched him walk away, then took the bag of pads and candy into her room and set it on the nightstand for the time being.

While the boys quickly cleaned up and changed, Beth set the table with glasses and napkins. She turned off the TV and gazed out the open window at the city below as the sun set and the sky darkened, waiting patiently for them to join her. With the sounds of Daryl and Malachi drifting through the apartment, a calmness settled over her. For tonight, she felt… _okay_. Like maybe her insides wouldn't be eating themselves with anxiety for at least a few hours. In the beginning, her bedroom had been a safe space – the only safe space in the world for her. Now, it was the apartment in its entirety. And she couldn't decide whether that was an improvement or a liability.

Malachi came racing down the hall first, climbing clumsily into his chair and waiting. Beth joined Daryl in the kitchen, grabbing plates and slices of pizza. With two plates in his hands, Daryl paused at the counter and looked at Beth like he'd sensed her contemplation.

"How're you doin' today?" He asked quietly, studying her face.

Beth could hear Malachi singing to himself from the table and she put on a small smile. "A lot better now."

Daryl gave her a half-smile and left the kitchen with Beth following closely behind him.

They sat at the table and ate their pizza happily, Malachi chatting away about his day. When he mentioned how happy he'd been to see "Rosie" at lunchtime, Daryl's eyes met Beth's and he gave her a quizzical look. She nodded and shrugged.

"Carol just wanted t'know how I was doing. And feed me," she explained briefly.

"Yeah – and Rosie um, we played Legos," Mal chirped, his face covered in pizza sauce.

Daryl nodded in understanding and looked over at his son. "Hey – ya got somethin' on yer face, dude."

Mal grabbed his napkin and sloppily ran it across his mouth, somehow missing all of the pizza sauce. He looked to his father again. "Is it – is it gone?"

Daryl stifled a laugh and nodded his head, looking across the table at Beth as they shared a smile. He glanced back to the toddler and nodded, "Yeah, yer good."

Malachi was occupied with his pizza for a few moments and Daryl met Beth's eyes. "You comin' tomorrow?"

Beth nodded, glancing down at her slice of pizza as she set it down and wiped her hands with a napkin. "Planned on it. Might… take it kinda easy."

Daryl grunted in agreement, chewing a bite of pizza and swallowing before speaking again. "Wasn't gonna let ya do too much anyway."

Beth rolled her eyes but smirked, taking a sip from her glass while exchanging playful half-smiles and knowing looks across the table.

By the end of dinner, Daryl had to take Malachi to the bathroom to wash his face and hands of all the pizza sauce. He also had to change the toddler's shirt. Beth put away the leftover pizza and cleaned up the remaining napkins on the table. Then she heard tiny feet charging down the hallway.

"Okay, we got an hour till bedtime," Daryl announced, following his son at a leisurely pace as they headed toward the living room. " _If_ yer good, maybe you can stay up later. But we gotta be up in the mornin' fer class."

"I kno- _ow_ , Dad!" Malachi called back with a hint of attitude as he reached the bookcase and excitedly grabbed a book off the shelf.

Beth shut off the kitchen light and followed Daryl into the living room. "Wow, three going on thirteen?"

Daryl scoffed and glanced back at her. "Tell me about it."

They sat down on the couch together, leaving half a cushion of space between them, while Malachi got comfortable on the opposite end of the couch, tucked into the cushy corner with his legs up so he could watch and listen. Daryl leaned towards Mal and looked at Beth, taking the book from his son's hands and holding it out for her.

"We're waitin'," he said, smirking.

Beth raised her eyebrows. "Actually, I was thinkin' _you_ should read tonight. I didn't really get ta hear those voices you do so well."

Daryl blushed briefly and looked at Mal. "Who d' _you_ want ta read?"

Malachi appeared thoughtful for a second, glancing at Beth before looking back to his dad again. He grinned. "Yeah, do the voices for Rosie, Dad! Yours are funny."

Daryl feigned a look of offense. "Oh – _excuse_ me? A couple weeks ago, you thought I was the best damn Snape this side a the Mason-Dixon."

Beth giggled and Malachi laughed while Daryl sat back and opened the book, playfully side-eyeing his son.

"Alrigh' – no laughin', you two. Unless it's a funny part," Daryl grumbled, plucking out the bookmark carefully and squinting down at the page.

"We won't laugh, promise," Beth assured him, still smiling in amusement.

Daryl's face was bright red for the first few minutes that he was reading, but once he got into the rhythm of the story and Mal was giggling at his voices, he seemed to relax. Beth watched the boys with a smile on her face, listening to the story told in Daryl's low voice. By the end of the first chapter, she was leaning her leg against his and had scooted in just a tiny bit closer. She saw him glance over at her for a brief second, then he smiled, but she was pretty sure he was smiling at the line he'd just read. The fluttering in her stomach made a reappearance – and this time, she knew it was in her stomach and nowhere else.

They made it through four or five chapters before Mal started rubbing his eyes and struggling to keep them open. Like clockwork, it was only about fifteen minutes past his usual bedtime and he was fighting sleep. Daryl noticed and wrapped up the chapter he was reading, shutting the book dramatically.

"C'mon, kid, jus' lookin' at ya's making _me_ sleepy," he announced, standing up and gesturing for Malachi to stand up off the couch.

The toddler let out a little whine. "Aww, Dad – I'm not tired, my eyes hurt, I - "

"Hey, don't argue," Daryl said, stepping over and putting the book away. "Gotta get up in the mornin'. Let's go, pick up them feet."

Malachi knew better than to fight it and climbed off the couch, walking over to Beth as if it were part of his routine. He opened his arms and she leaned in to give him a hug.

"Goodnight, I'll see you in the mornin'," she told him.

"Okay. 'Night," Mal yawned, then dragged himself off toward the hall with his dad.

Daryl glanced back at Beth and said, "I'll be back in a minute."

She nodded and watched him lead his son off to bed. When she could no longer hear their footsteps or voices, she reached over and grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. She flipped through the channels for a bit only to find that there was nothing interesting on. Leaving the television at a low volume, Beth got up and went to her bedroom to retrieve her phone and bring it back to the couch with her.

The sky was completely dark outside and the breeze drifting in through the windows had become considerably cooler. The noise of traffic and people had died down, but it was still audible. Nowadays, Beth didn't even notice it as anything more than white noise. She scrolled through the national news sites, wanting to pass the time until Daryl returned without really expecting to find anything. There were more headlines about political discourse and foreign affairs, missing children, and murdered women. In an act of muscle memory, Beth navigated to the Georgia news site. She scrolled down for a second, her mind wandering as she thought about Daryl and listened for his footsteps. She was so distracted that she hadn't even seen the small link to the article at first.

It wasn't a major headline on the website, which had caught her off-guard – she wasn't particularly looking for a smaller article. She thought that her family's case would always be of major priority. Yet she'd scrolled right past the small, underlined font that read: " _Beth Greene: Natural Born Killer or Victim of Circumstance?_ "

She blinked rapidly, staring down at the screen of her phone. She wasn't misreading it, and yes, it was very much a real article posted to a real website for the news station in Georgia. Yet this article was in the sidebar of the webpage, in smaller font, less noticeable. Was this more information? What else could they have possibly learned while the trial was still ongoing? Surely it wasn't legal for them to release anything else this early in the court proceedings. Unless they'd found out something about Beth…? It did have her name right in the headline – which was possibly the most unsettling part about it.

Her breath had caught in her throat and she quickly tapped the link, waiting impatiently while the page loaded. Then she stared down at the print, reading quickly. It was different than all the other updates Beth had read, yet she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Nevertheless, she continued to read:

 _ **Atlanta, GA - Sept. 15, 2017  
**_ _If you've been following the Greene Family case, then you know all about the heinous Hershel Greene and his church of lies. Which means you probably also know about his youngest daughter, Beth – a wanted fugitive of the state and the main suspect in the shooting of Detective Shane Walsh on the night of August 26th. In the last week, the Greene's had their arraignments, and Hershel Greene pled guilty to all charges soon after waiving his right to representation, leading the authorities to believe that his eldest daughter, Maggie Greene-Rhee, would follow suit. However, Maggie, 24, entered a plea of not guilty. As did her husband of one year, Glenn Rhee._

 _The residents of small, sleepy Senoia were shocked and outraged to learn of the truth behind the Greene farm and the Senoia Baptist Church. Not a single one of Hershel Greene's long-time neighbors had even the slightest clue that he'd been running an illicit, multi-million dollar operation for the better part of a decade. Which goes to show just how well the patriarch Greene used his connections, location, resources, and reputation to his advantage. With a location just outside of Senoia and the nearest neighbor more than seven miles away, the Greene Farm was kept shrouded in mystery – helped in part by the loyalty of Hershel's employees and congregation._

 _But to what lengths did Hershel go to ensure his operation would remain completely undetected by authorities? Sources have speculated darker details that are being kept from the public as the trial progresses. However, Maggie's plea has given one major clue, and unnamed sources working closely with the District Attorney have mentioned rumors of a defense relying on the claim of coercion. While both Maggie and husband, Glenn, are utilizing the long-time family lawyer, most everyone on the defense team is keeping tight lips. Understandably so, with the life of a young woman and her new husband hanging in the balance._

 _The webs that have been woven by the Greene family and their extensive repertoire of felonies don't stop there, though. If you're wondering which card in the house so beautifully built by the worn and weathered hands of Hershel Greene was the first to fall, you'd be asking the same question as everyone else. The better-known clues point to the murders of Annette and Shawn Greene last spring. Annette Greene, second wife of Hershel Greene and mother to Beth and Shawn, was murdered within minutes of her son on the night of April 12th, 2017 inside the Greene family's home. And so began a long and strenuous murder investigation, with Hershel Greene's farm and family at the very center. With nothing to keep them hidden from the scrutinizing eye of the law, the Greene's reportedly scrambled to cover their tracks. But not without alerting several observant law enforcement members and bringing down a hailstorm of questions. It seemed the murders of Hershel Greene's wife and adopted son were not random tragedies. Police began to suspect that these brutal killings were a sign of something much larger and more dangerous, possibly even the first of several casualties to come._

 _Still, authorities had no just cause for their suspicions. They had no evidence and with Hershel Greene, a retired veterinarian, an active member in his community, and the sole foundation of the Senoia Baptist Church, there was no judge to be found who would give police the time of day. The last time Hershel Greene had any kind of negative encounter with law enforcement was well before his hair had grayed and even before he'd met his late wife, and he sat proudly with the fact that he'd remained sober from a prior alcohol addiction over twenty years ago. When Detective Dawn Lerner rallied for search warrants, her cries fell on deaf ears and shaking heads, befuddling those who'd known the Greene's and their reputation. That is, until Annette and Shawn Greene were stabbed to death and police were completely unable to locate one of the two suspected killers – a known junkie with an arrest record dating back to juvie. This was a 26-year-old man that police were familiar with and had never failed to track down. And suddenly, just a month after the Greene murders, he dropped off the face of the earth. Sources report that there has still been no word on his whereabouts and authorities have effectively closed the case._

 _As for 18-year-old Beth Greene? Still missing and wanted. On the night of August 26th, she reportedly fired a Beretta 92 into the back of Detective Shane Walsh, killing him almost instantly. Within seconds of the shooting, Maggie Greene-Rhee reportedly used a 25-pound lamp to bash in the skull of Detective Rick Grimes, leaving him unresponsive and comatose. While authorities sped to the farm in response, Maggie emptied the family's safe and attempted to flee beside her husband and her younger sister. But before they could disappear into the woods north of the farm, police successfully detained Maggie and Glenn, seizing a bag full of undisclosed contents from the safe (precinct hearsay has alleged that they were nothing more than "go bags" with less than a million dollars in cash altogether). Somehow, Beth Greene outran authorities and disappeared into the night. When she was last seen, police reported she was carrying two duffel bags, suspected to be full of Greene family heirlooms and a portion of Hershel Greene's illicit fortune. The Beretta was not located after a thorough search of the property, and it's been deduced that Beth still had it on her person when she fled._

 _The aspect about this case that has authorities and citizens baffled is the fact that almost nothing is known about the youngest Greene daughter. And the little bits that are have been oddly covered up, or otherwise ignored, by officials. Every official source that this reporter reached out to has refused to comment on the death of James "Jimmy" Cline, the 19-year-old boyfriend of Beth Greene who allegedly took his own life while being held in Atlanta Grady Detention Center. Although the story was reported, very little information was given, and next of kin were given just as few details._

 _If you didn't hear about Beth Greene's dead boyfriend, you're not alone. Authorities have effectively stifled all questions about the case, citing respect for the Cline family. However, when asked for a comment, the Cline family has reported that they are upset with what little information was given to them. They explained they had very little contact with Jimmy in the last year before his death, and they have no stake in the Greene family's case because they admittedly knew Beth only by name, and Hershel was an acquaintance – known only to them as the kind, old pastor who ran a farm outside of town. Their last interaction with Jimmy or any of the Greene's was in late 2016. Cline's family say they never knew him to meddle with drugs or illegal activities, yet they were told that he was arrested with meth in his system and on his person. For reasons they could not explain, the family was not allowed to view Jimmy's body before laying him to rest. When asked for some sort of explanation on this particular detail, officials at the Atlanta Grady Detention Center and both Senoia and Atlanta Police Departments refused to comment and stopped accepting calls or emails._

 _What makes Jimmy Cline's arrest and death even more interesting? He was booked into custody on the night of August 25th, almost exactly 24 hours before Detectives Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh entered the Greene home and met their fates. If that's not coincidental, then let's consider for a moment the fact that 19-year-old Cline died of "self-inflicted wounds" on the night of August 30th – just 4 days after authorities arrested the entire Greene farm and seized everything on the property of the farm, as well as the Senoia Baptist Church. While it is worth taking into consideration that Cline reportedly tested positive for multiple drugs at the time of his arrest, he had no history of depression, mental illness, or addiction of any sort, and family and neighbors describe him as optimistic and hopeful, especially in times of doubt. Which brings about the question: how much could this young man have changed during the one year that he was intimately involved with the Greene family? And does Beth Greene's fugitive status have any connection to Cline's reported "suicide"? Or should we be looking into just how deep Hershel Greene's connections go, and how far they reach out?_

 _While neighbors only knew Jimmy in passing, very few knew of Beth by any more than her name. The youngest Greene began attending private school shortly before junior high and it appears that her contact with the outside world was mostly limited to school, church, and her home on the farm. She was a straight-A student, listed on the honor roll nearly every single semester, involved in a handful of extracurricular activities, and she graduated second in her class after completing several advanced placement and Honors courses. Former teachers describe her as quiet, sweet, talented, intelligent beyond her years, and always well-behaved – which means that as far as any signs of violence or erratic behavior are concerned, the youngest Greene has a squeaky clean record, and not a single outsider involved in her life could make sense of the news that she allegedly murdered a police detective. As for college, there isn't even an application in existence with Bethany Greene's name on it. The most recent photo in authorities' possession is from a senior year photoshoot._

 _According to police, not one of the Greene family members has spoken a word as to the whereabouts of Beth. And while those working within the case are not legally allowed to reveal much, they have reported that it's been widely accepted that none of the Greene's know where Beth is headed exactly, and their best bet may be relying on the public and pursuing the small trail the teenager left behind in her desperate race for freedom. Which poses the question: did Beth flee with a plan, or is she still hiding somewhere in America, waiting for the trail to grow cold?_

 _There is another theory floating through the grapevine, though less popular and far more heavily scrutinized. But when taken into context with Maggie Greene-Rhee's likely defense of coercion, perhaps it's not so out of the realm of possibility._

 _Could Beth Greene be innocent?_

 _Before you begin shaking your head and dismissing the thought completely, let me state very clearly that I, in no way, condone the killing of another person, especially a member of law enforcement. Det. Shane Walsh's death was a tragedy. However, there is no evidence to support the claim that it was premeditated. And it wouldn't be out of the question to consider it self-defense. When you take into consideration all the circumstances surrounding the night of August 26th, there is a large space left open for questions about the real intentions behind Beth's actions. Malice… or fear?_

 _Beth Greene was 17 years old when her mother and half-brother were murdered just feet away from her bedroom door. According to documentation, she turned 18 on August 23rd. Two days later, her boyfriend of over a year was arrested trying to break into her home and assault her. The next night, two mysterious men entered her home, armed with guns and looking for evidence to arrest her father and seize her family's home. And during all of this, the Senoia and Atlanta Police Departments were reportedly making their presences, and watchful eyes, felt around Hershel Greene's farm and church. Would it be so unbelievable to suggest that the Greene children were coerced into silence – creating a blanket of lies that would eventually smother them all?_

 _According to authorities, the Greene Family operation began as early as 2008. Hershel Greene had already retired and Annette Greene had settled into her position as homemaker and mother, but Beth was no more than 9 years old. This would mean Shawn and Maggie became involved in their father's crimes at the ages of 11 and 15, respectively. Legally, they would have all been considered unfit for trial, and would've been treated as no more than victims of child abuse and endangerment. But they were raised into it and the operation continued, undisturbed, for well over eight years._

 _As the eldest child, Maggie became an adult first, and though she graduated from a private high school with a 3.8 GPA, there is no mention of college plans or applications in any records or documentation. After meeting her husband, Glenn Rhee, in 2015, they eventually began dating and then married in September 2016. Reportedly, Rhee joined the family's operation not long after the beginning of his relationship with Maggie and was treated no differently than Hershel's real son. Prior to 2015, Rhee had graduated from a public high school in Atlanta and worked as a delivery driver for Domino's._

 _The middle Greene child, Shawn, became a legal adult two years ago, graduating with a 2.9 GPA from the same private high school as Maggie. Though he was involved in FFA and two seasons of junior varsity football, there are no records of any applications to college. Sources suspect he was being groomed to take Hershel's place as the patriarch and kingpin of the Greene operation before his untimely death._

 _Now where does that leave Beth? As the youngest Greene child, she certainly experienced the most advantages from Hershel's newly attained wealth. The largest question that remains is how much she knew about the inner workings of her family's operation, and just how deadly she was raised to be considering the climate of the farm in the last decade. Was she kept out of the public eye for her own safety – or purely for Hershel's? Some have even asked whether she allegedly shot Det. Walsh on the orders of her father or her sister, or both, or if she was attempting to defend her family and, possibly, herself. Although these answers can't be reached just yet, mostly for legal reasons, it stands to reason that the questions will be posed on the stand when it comes time for the family to testify in court._

 _While the Greene case is sure to be long and drawn-out, there are others determined to find answers. The defense and the District Attorney have both refused to comment any further, and while that doesn't mean we have all the information yet, it does mean that there is a lot more to be dug up – maybe even details that law enforcement has yet to learn._

 _Hershel Greene will undoubtedly be spending the rest of his years behind bars, but can we justifiably convict his children? This reporter is determined to connect the dots of this mysterious case, and dig deeper into the dark history of Hershel Greene's criminal legacy. Stay tuned to WSAV for updates as I continue to interview, research, and uncover the layers of secrets hiding beneath the godly veil that Hershel Greene created and maintained._

Beth's heart was racing. There were several lines of the article that she reread multiple times, almost dazed from reading something about her family that wasn't horribly vague or misinterpreted. And when she got to the end, she scrolled back up in search of the reporter's name.

 _Who the fuck does this dude think he is?!_ She thought, furious and terrified at the same time. _Sensationalizing my case, spreading my family history out there – why are you digging? Why are you putting my name all over the news again? Everyone knows I'm not innocent – even_ _ **I**_ _know! Why are you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong?! Just let me hide in peace, at least give me a_ _ **chance**_ _to get away._

There was no name at the top, though, so Beth scrolled back down and found another paragraph at the very bottom of the page. It was brief and in smaller font, easy to miss. But it was a short blurb about the reporter who'd written and published the article. It read:

 _Jenny Jones is an investigative journalist for WSAV Georgia. She has worked for The Augusta Chronicle and Atlanta Journal-Constitution during the last 16 years. She has a husband and one young son. As the newest addition to the WSAV team, she vows to dedicate her career to the integrity of investigative journalism and describes herself as a strong supporter of "justice, equality, and empathy."_

There was no photo of this woman, but it made Beth's blood boil even hotter to have a name to put with the face she was imagining in her head. Whoever this journalist was, she had no business sticking her nose into Beth's family's case and dragging up all of the lesser-known facts about the Greene's. Beth thought she wouldn't have to read about her dead mom and brother again… At least, not for a long while. She'd had hopes that the news would slowly forget about her and let her fade away, along with any interest in her family's case. For the time being, anyway – just long enough for her to get out of the country.

It also made her sick to her stomach to think of how people would see her daddy, how they might blame him for Annette's and Shawn's deaths. Beth ached for him; he couldn't handle that kind of guilt. He wasn't the evil, horrible man that Lerner and the media wanted everyone to believe he was. Beth didn't understand why no one else could see that. They all wanted a scapegoat for Shane's death and Rick's condition so badly – but they didn't know the whole story. The public wouldn't understand that Beth's daddy had done all of this to _protect_ his family. And he was only human. Humans make mistakes. Sometimes plans don't go like they're supposed to. Sometimes things backfire.

Beth wondered if Jenny Jones was capable of investigating deep enough to come to _that_ conclusion. And briefly, she wondered if this reporter would ever find her way to The Governor. How much digging would _that_ take? How many people would she have to interview before she discovered that Hershel Greene was a good, God-fearing man who wanted nothing more than to provide for his family the best he could?

 _If you're all about integrity, then let's see what you can_ _ **really**_ _find out_ , Beth thought.

But another part of her didn't _want_ to know. What if this journalist raked up secrets that not even Beth knew about? There had still been plenty of aspects of her daddy's business that she hadn't quite figured out – and plenty that she had _no_ desire to explore. Sometimes, she'd regretted all the eavesdropping she did.

 _Maybe I should stop reading the news,_ she thought, darkening the screen of her phone and setting it aside. Her eyes drifted to the TV screen but she was staring blankly, lost in her own head.

Daryl returned a few minutes later, appearing more tired than when he'd stepped away. Beth snapped back to reality and looked over at him as he stood by the couch and studied her face curiously.

"Wanna watch a movie or somethin'?" He asked.

She smiled and nodded, hoping the anxiety that was building in her gut wasn't showing on her face. "Sure – was he bein' difficult?"

Daryl nodded and plopped down on the couch next to her, resting his leg against hers and leaving no empty space between them. He sighed in exhaustion.

"He started gettin' whiny an' didn't wanna go t'bed, then he said he wanted me t'lay with him but he jus' wanted ta talk," Daryl explained, shaking his head. "Turned into a full-blown meltdown. Think he's drifted off now but he'll prob'ly wake up in a few hours… Toddlers are somethin' else."

Beth raised her eyebrows and listened, then said, "You handle it well, though. He's better behaved than a lotta kids I've seen…"

He gave a sheepish half-smile. "Thanks."

She smiled back and asked, "What movie d'you wanna watch?"

The stress that had been etched on Daryl's face seemed to slowly melt away and he grabbed the remote, pressing a few buttons and bringing up a menu. Then he handed it to Beth and looked at her expectantly. "You pick."

She took the remote hesitantly and rolled her eyes with a playful smile. "Oh, c'mon, you can't put me on the spot like this!"

He chuckled and gestured to the screen, leaning back into the cushions of the couch. "Here, I'll help – pick the horror category an' then just pick somethin' outta there. Less pressure."

Beth navigated the menu on the TV and selected the Horror option, furrowing her brow. "Oh, I dunno – these all look pretty scary…"

Daryl grunted. "That's the point."

"Mmm, I dunno, I kinda wanna be able t'sleep tonight," she joked, glancing at him with a smile.

He laughed quietly, gazing at her with an almost dreamy look in his eyes. "You'll be alright, I'll bring Mal's other nightlight in there for ya."

She giggled and looked back to the TV screen to hide the pink tint growing on her cheeks. Her stomach was fluttering again. She continued to scroll through the movie titles, occasionally pausing and reading summaries of the movies. Daryl watched her silently – she could feel his eyes on her.

After several minutes of contemplation, she selected a movie called _The Exorcist_ and read the summary, trying to recall why the name sounded familiar. She'd never really been allowed to watch horror movies growing up, and the ones she had seen were few and far between. Admittedly, she didn't have a deep desire to watch them anyway, because it seemed most of them were about large, indestructible, scary men in masks who hunted unsuspecting victims and hacked them up. Beth felt that she'd rather watch a documentary about ocean life than another slasher flick. And though she didn't know anything about this _Exorcist_ movie, she knew for sure that it certainly wasn't a movie that Daddy or Maggie would've allowed her to watch, at least not in their presence.

"This looks interestin' – no axe murderers or masked killers," she muttered thoughtfully, glancing back over at Daryl. "Is it really scary?"

He smirked mischievously but shrugged. "Nah, it's a… _classic_."

Beth quirked a brow and looked at him, waiting for him to continue, but he gestured toward the TV. "Start it – you'll see."

Despite her better judgment, she listened to him and pressed the Play button, then set the remote down and leaned back into the couch. She was about to lean into Daryl's side, but he quickly stood up from the couch. She looked over at him quizzically and realized he was rushing to the light switch and turning off the lights. The living room quickly became dark, nothing more than the dim light above the stove leaking out from the kitchen. Daryl rushed back to his seat on the couch and squeezed back into his spot beside Beth. The late evening breeze flowed in through the open windows and the screen of the TV darkened right before lighting back up, gradually, with the opening scene of the 1970s film.

Within the first few minutes of the movie, Beth had snuggled in closely against Daryl on the couch. He had one arm wrapped around her while she kept her legs curled up beneath her and rested her head on his chest. She had one arm slipped between his back and the couch while the other rested across his middle. They were both relaxed into each other, their breathing growing synchronized.

Unsurprisingly, Daryl was not to be trusted when it came to accurately describing movies. For the last seventy-five minutes of the film, Beth's fingernails were digging into Daryl's side as she gripped him with fear, eyes wide and unblinking. She couldn't tear them away, though. Multiple times, she winced or cringed, and there were a handful of times that she visibly jumped or let out a _yelp_. Daryl gently hushed her, laughing, but Malachi didn't wake up – thankfully. She learned exactly why she'd never seen this movie.

By the end of the film, Beth's heart was racing and she was relieved to see that it was over. She sat up and faced Daryl, glaring at him with narrowed eyes.

"You call that a _classic_?" She asked, feigning slight anger.

He smiled impishly and replied, "Absolutely. Aren't ya glad we watched it? We can do the _Blair Witch_ _Project_ next, if ya want."

Beth giggled and lightly slapped Daryl's arm playfully. "Okay, I learned my lesson – _I'll_ pick next time. The last two hours just made up for _all_ my years of not watching horror movies."

Daryl chuckled and reached out to snake his arm around her middle, pulling her in closer to him until she was leaning against his chest and their lips were coming together. She closed her eyes and relaxed against him, kissing him slowly and savoring the moment. Even though she'd spent most of the last two hours cringing and nearly crying from horror, it was still one of the best nights she thought she'd ever had. _Ever_.

Just like that, all her anxiety about Jenny Jones and the article had disappeared from her mind. How could she think about any of that when she was occupied with thinking about how she felt like she was _home_ when Daryl and Malachi were around?

When she and Daryl pulled apart, he gazed back at her with tired, blue eyes. She smiled weakly and leaned in to kiss him again, pulling back to find a similar dreamy expression in his eyes when they reopened. He had the look on his face that she'd seen the other night – the one she didn't recognize. She still couldn't quite place it.

"Worth it," he grumbled out quietly, a tired half-smile on his lips. "Kinda cute when yer scared."

Beth smirked and rolled her eyes, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach and leaning away to sit up and grab the remote while he chuckled at her reaction. She quickly found the Animated category on the screen and selected _Moana_ , pressing Play before Daryl could object. Then she set the remote back down and turned to look at him expectantly.

"What?" He asked.

She shrugged, leaning back and letting his arm reflexively wrap around her once more. "No objections to the Disney movie?"

He furrowed his brow and scoffed. "Me an' the boy love this movie. Maui's the man. I play that song in the shop sometimes ta annoy Dwight – but now he likes it. Caught him singin' along the other day."

Beth laughed quietly at his story, watching him smile and chuckle while he gazed at the TV screen, his eyelids drooping lower. She tried to imagine Daryl's mystery friend singing along to a Disney song in the middle of a motorcycle repair shop. The image made her laugh quietly to herself again, and she leaned into Daryl's side and relaxed while they both grew still and silent as they watched the movie.

She found her mind wandering elsewhere this time. She silently contemplated telling Daryl about the things Clem had said, and possibly the things Carol had said. She didn't really want to, though. The thought of how he'd react to finding out that she and Carol had talked about him privately made her too wary to bring it up, and even though he'd probably understand Clem's questioning, what if it made him uneasy and uncomfortable? Beth was afraid that other people would do nothing but pop their little bubble of bliss. No matter how temporary that bubble may or not be. She wanted to enjoy it as long as possible, without the interference of prying friends. Not to mention, she _really_ didn't want to hear the opinions that would doubtlessly be shared by the others. Beth could already imagine the scowl on Rosita's face and the disgusted sneer on Tara's at the thought of Beth and Daryl being intimate – and they'd be right, she knew deep down. But for now, she wanted to remain in pleasant denial.

For tonight, none of that mattered. While she was deep in thought and staring blankly at the TV screen, Daryl's breathing had slowed and steadied, as did his heartbeat, and before long, he was lightly snoring. His arm had gone lax around Beth's middle, and she lifted her head to find his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open slightly. She smirked and gazed at him for a moment, reminding herself to save this particular image in her head.

She nudged him softly in the side until his snoring ceased and he was opening his eyes. He gave her a confused look for a second, then realized he'd drifted off.

"Should we go t'my bed?" She asked quietly.

He nodded, grunting and blinking slowly, struggling to wake up.

Beth sat up from the couch and grabbed the remote to turn off the TV while Daryl dragged himself up to his feet. Then he headed for Beth's bedroom and she followed closely behind. They didn't bother turning on any lights, leaving the bedroom door half-open and finding their way to the bed. Daryl collapsed into the mattress, slipping beneath the comforter and sliding over to make room for Beth to crawl in beside him.

They'd just gotten close and settled down beneath the covers, Daryl letting out a content sigh, when a sound coming from the hall made them both freeze. They listened closer and realized almost simultaneously that Malachi had woken up, his loud sobs carrying down the hall.

Daryl sighed again, but not in contentment. "Better go check on 'im. Mighta had an accident."

Beth nodded. He pulled off the covers and carefully climbed over her to get out of the bed, then shuffled off to the hall and disappeared into the darkness.

She listened as the crying faded away until the apartment was silent again. There were no sounds of footsteps or trips to the bathroom, and she wondered if Mal had possibly had a nightmare, or just gotten scared when he woke up and realized Daryl wasn't in bed. She knew they'd gotten lucky with their sleeping arrangement so far, but she told herself that she'd just have to accept the fact that there would be nights when they couldn't sleep together.

She wasn't sure if it was because they were preventing Malachi from telling Carol, or if they were preventing Malachi from asking about their relationship. Either way, they'd silently agreed that he wasn't ready to know. And she could only assume that was because he wouldn't understand.

 _Kind of like what Carol said about him not understanding why I'd leave,_ she thought remorsefully.

Beth wasn't sure when she fell asleep. She hadn't been watching the clock, but rather the door, awaiting Daryl's return. The apartment was dark and silent, and her eyelids were getting heavier and heavier by the second. And then she was resting her eyes for just a moment, but the moment turned into a few hours instead.

Thankfully, she didn't have any dreams.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** If you're wondering - yes, that's Jenny Jones, as in Morgan's wife. Canonically, we know nothing about her prior to The Turn, so in this universe, she's an investigative journalist and lives in Atlanta with Morgan and Duane. I don't know yet if we'll eventually see Morgan, but it's a good possibility.  
If you've been reading, reviewing, favoriting, following - THANK YOU so much! Y'all keep my passion for this story going and every new review I get just gives me even more inspiration and willpower to keep going! Yes, the big reveal is within sight ;) Let me know what you thought of this chapter and what you think of Jenny Jones digging deeper into Beth's mysterious case!


	39. you'll still be standing next to me

_**you'll still be standing next to me**_

Beth awoke to a tickling on her face, blinking rapidly and finding darkness. As her eyes adjusted, she realized Daryl was standing beside her bed and leaning down over her, and it was his facial hair tickling her. He was planting soft kisses on her cheek and whispering quietly to wake her up.

"...You gonna wake up?" His voice was breathy and sleepy and she could smell the soap and hints of leather still on his skin.

She hummed sleepily and reached up to wrap an arm around his neck. "Is it time t'get up?"

"Nah – I fell asleep with Mal," he whispered, leaning in closer and nudging her side. "We still got a couple hours 'fore he'll be up."

Beth didn't glance at the clock. She closed her eyes again and scooted over, making room for Daryl. He crawled into bed beside her and slipped beneath the covers. Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around her and she cuddled in close against his side. He was warm and sturdy, and she was drifting back to sleep within seconds as he kissed the top of her head and stroked her arm with his fingertips.

"I missed you," she mumbled against his chest, half-asleep.

She heard him whisper, "Missed you, too." Then she slipped back into unconsciousness.

Daylight arrived silently. She dozed dreamlessly until Daryl's voice was in her ear again, whispering while his lips lightly kissed her neck and his facial hair tickled her. She hummed out in acknowledgement before opening her eyes, wrapping her arm tighter around Daryl's middle.

"C'mon, babe, the kid's gonna be up any minute," he whispered, kissing her neck again.

Beth opened her eyes hesitantly and groaned, seeing Daryl first and then the clock behind him that read 6:42. She sighed and laid her head back down on his chest, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"I'll make breakfast – you want pancakes?" He asked, rubbing her arm absent-mindedly.

She nodded against him and yawned. "Sure."

Daryl nudged her lightly and she rolled over to free him. He leaned in and planted a light kiss on her lips before getting out of bed and briefly stretching. Then he grabbed his shirt and pajama pants from the floor and slipped them on, heading to the bedroom door and peeking out into the hallway. He glanced back at Beth.

"I'll get the food ready, but I can't promise the boy won't come in here ta see if yer up," he said with a smirk.

"I'm up, I'm up," Beth grumbled, but gave Daryl a sleepy smile just before he turned and left the bedroom.

She lay in bed and listened to the sound of Daryl rummaging around in the kitchen for a few moments before reaching over and grabbing her phone off the charger. Still blinking the sleep out of her eyes, Beth unlocked the screen and found no notifications, but she knew she'd be seeing Clem and Carol and everyone else in a few short hours. She routinely checked the news sites, starting with national first and gradually making her way to Georgia and Atlanta. To her relief, she found no new updates and no sign of a particularly piqued interested in her family's case. To her disappointment, the headline with her name in it was still displayed on the front page, even though it was off to the side and slowly getting moved down the list.

Out of curiosity, Beth went to Google and typed in her own name. The results proved to be no worse than she expected: the first on the list were the reports about her family and the big bust, followed by the article from Jenny Jones. The rest were results about the other Beth Greene's in the country. It was the slightest bit relieving to know that there weren't any other news stations picking up on her case, although she was still confident in her decision to keep her real name a secret.

Before her thoughts could drift off to other, more troubled, places, Beth set her phone down and got out of bed, stretching and yawning. She gathered up an outfit from the dresser drawers and a fresh pad from the pack on the nightstand, then headed out to the hallway and toward the bathroom, shutting the bedroom door tightly behind her. Daryl glanced back at her from where he stood at the counter in the kitchen and they nodded at each other in acknowledgment before she disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Beth showered, grateful to finally wash any remaining hints of the doctor's office from her skin. She dressed in a comfortable outfit for class – soft leggings and a baggy shirt, like usual – and brushed her teeth and hair. The bleeding and cramping seemed to be lightening up, though her breasts were still a bit sore. She told herself a little exercise would probably do some good and gathered up her dirty clothes to return to her bedroom.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Malachi was standing in the kitchen in his pajamas, chatting away to Daryl. She slipped past unnoticed and dumped her dirty clothes in her bedroom, then shut the bedroom door and stepped into the kitchen. The toddler turned around and smiled when he spotted her, his blond hair still messy from sleep.

"Goo' morning, Rosie," he said, rushing over and wrapping his arms around her legs.

"Good morning," she smiled down at him, then leaned down and returned the hug. "Did you sleep okay?"

Malachi shook his head and his smile faded. "No, I had a – I had a bad dweam."

"Oh, that sucks," Beth said, frowning and then putting on a reassuring smile. "But it wasn't real. Are you ready for pancakes?"

He grinned again and nodded with enthusiasm. "Yeah! And bacon!"

Beth chuckled and stood back up, holding out her hand for Mal to take. He did, and she began leading him toward the dining table. "C'mon, let's help Dad set up for breakfast."

She glanced at Daryl and realized he'd been watching them over his shoulder with a small smile. When his eyes met hers, he quickly looked back to his cooking.

Beth and Malachi set the table together, and by the time Beth had poured herself a cup of coffee, Daryl was setting up his son's plate and helping him with his napkin, juice, and silverware. They all sat down at the table together to plates of pancakes and bacon and glasses of juice, or cups of coffee. Despite the early hour of the morning, Malachi was eagerly chatting and asking his father questions. Daryl took hearty sips of coffee and continuously urged his son to focus on getting the sticky pancakes into his mouth. Beth watched with an amused smile while she ate her own breakfast and sipped coffee.

There was no point in washing or dressing the toddler before breakfast, and that proved to be true when his plate was clear but his face and hands were covered in syrup. Daryl cleaned up the table, then took Malachi back to the bathroom to clean him up and get him dressed for the day. Beth listened to their voices drifting down the hall while she did the dishes and tidied the kitchen, sipping on her second cup of coffee. The nausea she'd grown so used to dreading was nowhere to be found, and for the first time all week, she felt awake and prepared by eight in the morning. She slipped into her bedroom and took her daily antibiotic, absent-mindedly stuffing it back down into the sock she kept it hidden inside.

Beth had sat down on the couch to watch TV, her half-full mug sitting on the coffee table, when the boys emerged from the hall. They were both dressed and cleaned up, their bedheads gone. Malachi was carrying an armful of toys from his bedroom and eagerly plopped down on the living room floor with them, laying them out before rushing to his toy box to grab more.

"Thought you wanted ta watch _Paw_ _Patrol_?" Daryl asked, pausing beside the dining table and watching his son spread out an array of toys.

"Oh – I do," Mal said, glancing at the TV distractedly.

"You watchin' this?" Daryl asked, looking to Beth and gesturing toward the TV.

She looked up at Daryl from where she sat on the couch and shook her head. He reached out and grabbed the remote from where it sat on the coffee table, switching the channel to the dog cartoon Beth had seen on Carol's TV a couple of days ago.

"Alrigh', you got about a half hour 'fore we gotta leave for class," Daryl said.

"Okay," Malachi nodded, but he was staring at the TV screen while holding a pair of dolls in his hands, way too preoccupied to respond to his dad.

Daryl nodded to Beth and she raised her eyebrows expectantly, then he gestured toward the hallway. She stood and followed him, unsure of what he wanted exactly. However, she quickly figured it out when they stopped just far enough down the hall that Malachi couldn't see them from where he sat in the living room, and Daryl wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her in. She looked up at him with surprise but didn't pull away when he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, closing her eyes and kissing him back eagerly. She hadn't noticed her own feet carrying her forward until she realized she was pressed up against him, head tilted back and stomach fluttering wildly.

He finally pulled away a few inches and gazed down at Beth, glancing at her lips. He muttered sheepishly, "Sorry, I didn't know when we'd get another chance today an' I couldn't wait."

Beth smirked up at him. " _Couldn't_?"

He licked his lips and smirked back. "Didn't wanna."

She leaned in and captured his mouth in another hungry kiss, wrapping her arms around his middle this time and pulling him back in. He tasted like pancakes, bacon, and coffee, with a hint of mouthwash. A small part of her was disappointed that they couldn't really do anything more than kiss for the time being. But she tried not to let it show, even though she could sense that Daryl was thinking something similar. It wasn't like they'd have time to sneak away from Malachi anyway, and they both knew that.

And then she couldn't help but wonder… if Clem had picked up on Daryl's subtle signs and the little hints of his and Beth's relationship over the last two weeks, even when Beth couldn't, then what would the others inevitably pick up on?

* * *

Beth, Daryl, and Malachi arrived at the gym at half-past nine, like usual. There had been traces of fog lingering in the morning air, but it seemed to have all disappeared by the time they'd walked through the East Village, and the air was nippy but quickly warming up as the sun rose higher in the sky. Beth took Mal off to the side to help him take off his bag and set out his toys and coloring books while Daryl walked around the room and unrolled the mats. He'd only gotten three mats laid out before the front door opened and Carol entered, closely followed by Sophia, a tall, white guy that could only be Tobin, and another girl who looked to be around Sophia's age – as well as the spitting image of the tall man.

Daryl stopped what he was doing and brushed off his hands to head over and meet the group by the door. Beth made sure Malachi was occupied with a coloring page before stepping away to join the group, as well. As she approached, she saw that Tobin and what could only be his daughter had arrived wearing old T-shirts, sweatpants, and tennis shoes, prepared for class. They were looking at Daryl, shaking his hand in greeting while Carol made introductions before turning to look at Beth when she walked up.

"Oh, and this is Rosie," Carol introduced, gesturing to Beth as she spoke to Tobin. She turned to Beth and gestured to the tall man and his daughter, "Rosie, this is Tobin and his daughter, Charlie."

Tobin was a few inches taller than Daryl and looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, with brown hair and hazel eyes and a soft, warm smile. He reached out a hand and Beth took it, shaking it in greeting and giving him a polite smile. "Nice t'meet you."

"You, too," Tobin smiled, but his brow was furrowing just the slightest bit as he gazed into Beth's eyes, and she could see him studying her face – as if he were trying to place it to a memory. Then they were withdrawing their hands and he was glancing back at Carol, an odd look on his face that made Beth feel uneasy.

She could feel her cheeks warming up and she quickly turned to his daughter, who was a little taller than Sophia and had the same brown hair, hazel eyes, and pale skin as Tobin. Her hair was long and tied up in a ponytail, but she had a baby face despite her height. Charlie returned Beth's awkward, polite smile with one of her own and waved briefly instead of shaking hands. Beth waved back and nodded with pursed lips, looking away sheepishly.

She avoided looking back to Tobin, even though she wanted to study his face, too, or ask him if he was somehow from Georgia, like Carol and Daryl. Her heart was beating faster than usual. The last thing she needed right now was some random guy recognizing her by chance. But how could he _possibly_ know her? She was certain she'd never seen him before in her life. And she didn't look nearly enough like anyone else in her family to be confused for one of them – if this guy somehow knew them, that is. But she couldn't even hear a southern accent in his voice.

 _I'm just being paranoid,_ she assured herself, taking a deep breath in through her nostrils while she stood aside and watched the others continuing to interact. _He doesn't recognize me – that's not possible. He would've said something by now._

"And that's Malachi," Carol leaned closer to Tobin and pointed to the toddler sitting on the other side of the gym, coloring enthusiastically with two crayons at the same time.

"He's a li'l occupied," Daryl mumbled, gazing over at his son with a small smirk.

"That's okay, we'll have plenty of time after class," Carol said, smiling as she gazed around at the small group.

"Oh, no – I wanna meet him!" Tobin assured her with a smile, glancing at Daryl. "I've heard so much about him."

Carol blushed and Daryl shrugged with a sheepish smile. Sophia tapped Carol's arm to whisper something before she and Charlie walked off toward the lockers to finish getting ready for class. Carol smiled and looked from Tobin to Daryl, then nodded.

"He's all jacked up on pancakes so he might talk yer ear off," Daryl explained as the four of them walked together to where Malachi was sitting.

Tobin chuckled and Beth gazed at him from her peripherals, trying to study the profile of his face and rack her brain for any trace of recognition. But even as he talked, telling Daryl some story about how his daughter was a hellion as a toddler, Beth couldn't recall ever seeing this man or hearing him speak before. The name didn't even ring a bell, as she'd never known anyone named Tobin, as far as she could remember. And he was odd – well, maybe not really, but he was odd to Beth. He was large and intimidating, in a way, but his voice was gentle and calming, and he had quite possibly the softest eyes Beth had ever seen on a man. Except maybe her daddy.

When they approached Malachi, she stood near him, watching with a small smile as Carol got his attention and formally introduced him to Tobin.

"Woah – yer _tall_!" Malachi marveled, gazing up at Tobin from where he sat with a coloring book and a handful of crayons.

Tobin chuckled and leaned down to get closer to the toddler's level, smiling at him warmly. Despite the way he'd looked at Beth, she couldn't help but feel that this man was almost no threat. And if he was, he was only a threat to her.

"What d'we say when we meet somebody new?" Daryl urged from where he stood next to Tobin.

Malachi glanced at his dad, then back to Tobin, smiling. "Oh – nice ta meet you!"

"It's very nice to meet you, too, Malachi," Tobin said, gazing down at the toddler. "Carol's told me a lot about you!"

"Well, it's all true," Mal said, completely serious.

The adults laughed, Beth covering her mouth as she giggled. Mal looked around at them with a big smile, even though it was obvious he didn't understand why they were laughing.

"Are – are you gonna, um, are you – you staying for Dad's class?" He asked loudly, staring up at Tobin, still clearly amazed at the older man's height.

Tobin nodded. "Yes, I am! Maybe we can hang out afterward, with Dad?"

Mal nodded and grinned. "Yeah!"

The sound of the front door opening made everyone turn their heads and look to see Tara and Rosita arriving, Clementine and Enid trailing behind them. Tobin stood up and stepped back from Malachi, closer to Carol.

"Oh – the girls are here," Carol said with an excited smile, touching Tobin's arm.

"Perfect, I'll go introduce myself and Chuck," Tobin said, turning and giving her a smile before walking off toward the group of girls that were heading toward the lockers.

Daryl reached down and ruffled Malachi's hair before following after Tobin, and just as Carol moved to walk with him and Beth was about to follow, she felt a small hang grabbing at her leg. Beth looked down and saw Malachi gazing up at her with big, blue eyes, crayons clutched in his hands.

"Rosie – _look_ ," he said, gesturing to the open page in his coloring book.

Beth stopped and leaned down to give him attention and take a couple of crayons he was holding out for her, spotting Carol pausing and turning back in the corner of her eye. Then Carol was standing next to them, and Beth looked up from where she was squatting beside the toddler. The older woman was gazing at the group across the gym, watching Tobin interact with Rosita, Tara, and Daryl.

"He's nice, huh?" She asked quietly, looking to Beth.

Beth glanced over her shoulder at the group, then back to Carol, nodding. She stood up, still clutching the crayons in her hands while Mal colored feverishly below her. "Yeah – really nice. Does Sophia like him?"

Carol gave a small smile and nodded. "Thankfully, yes. So far, anyway. We all went to breakfast before class. It was a… really _good_ morning."

"Wow, that's a great sign," Beth smiled, fiddling with Malachi's crayons absent-mindedly. Then she paused and, attempting to sound as casual as possible, asked, "Where'd you say he's from again?"

"I didn't," Carol answered with the slightest narrowing of her eyes. "But I think he grew up in Virginia. He and Charlie have lived here since she was born. Why?"

Beth shrugged, cheeks growing warm. She looked down at the crayons in her hands and mumbled, "Jus' wondering."

She could feel Carol's eyes on her, though. The older woman said, a little more quietly, "He's not from Georgia – or Alabama. Or the south, in general… You don't have t'worry."

Beth scoffed almost smugly and looked up to meet Carol's eyes, hoping her face was as convincing as her voice. "I'm not. I was jus' curious."

Carol pursed her lips and nodded, eyes boring into Beth's.

Beth swallowed and muttered more quietly, "No way he could know me, anyhow."

"Exactly," Carol said, one eyebrow arched. Then she looked away and seemed to shrug it off, leaning down and giving Mal a kiss on his forehead before she headed off to join the group near the lockers.

Suddenly, hiding the truth about her relationship with Daryl had become one of Beth's smallest problems.

She watched from afar as Carol joined the others and they all exchanged smiles, glancing in her direction a time or two. She could see the quizzical look on Clem's face, but Beth turned away and leaned down to see what Malachi was doing with his coloring book. He was drawing a rather intricate monster, though, and no longer seemed to care that Beth was hovering over him.

She kept her body turned toward the toddler and away from the group while she pulled out her phone and quickly brought up the news sites. Something about Tobin's expression and the tone in Carol's voice had left Beth uneasy beyond words, and she needed to assure herself that this stranger wasn't recognizing her from some new report that might've popped up that morning. However, it only took about a minute for her to realize that there was no update on her family's case, and no sign that any photos of her had been posted since the two Georgia news stations had included them in their articles – which were all pushed back several pages by now.

Beth felt like there was something she was missing but couldn't identify it at the moment. For now, she was assured that her story hadn't gone national and she wasn't an easily recognizable face. Like Carol had said, Tobin wasn't even from the south. Beth pushed away the nagging worry and resisted the urge to leave and go back to the apartment – that would only make her seem more suspicious, after all.

Then again, she knew that continuing to act like a sketched-out, paranoid freak would make her appear way more suspicious than anything. Especially to the group of people that had come to know "Rosie" over the last two-and-a-half weeks. And what if Carol was offended that Beth would think her new love interest might have anything to do with Beth's past? She reminded herself to apologize later for being so nosy about Tobin's history.

She shook her head and locked her phone, stuffing it back into her pocket. The front door was opening again and more people were arriving for class. She ruffled Mal's hair and reminded him to behave before she walked off toward the others by the lockers.

Clementine, Tara, Rosita, and Enid greeted Beth happily, asking her how she'd been since the party. Beth smiled and assured them all she was fine before asking what was new with them. Daryl stood a few feet away with Carol and Tobin, talking and laughing. Beth slipped off her shoes and set her things near the lockers with the other girls' stuff. A few more people entered the gym, the room beginning to fill up. Rosita gestured for them all to take their spots and start stretching, and the others agreed.

"You gonna take it easy today?" Clem asked Beth quietly as they took spots next to each other with Enid on Clem's other side and Rosita and Tara standing a few feet in front of them.

Beth nodded and put on a smile. "Yeah, but I'll be fine. Jus' gotta make sure I stretch – I barely moved this past week."

They chuckled lightly together. Rosita and Tara turned to face the younger girls, leaning towards them as they stretched.

"We're gonna do lunch again after class," Rosita said, loud enough for the four other girls to hear her over the hum of conversation in the small gym. "You guys wanna come?"

Beth looked to Clem, eyebrows raised. But Clem was looking back at her with an expectant gaze.

The tawny-skinned girl shrugged and looked back to Rosita and Tara. "Well, I don't have anything better to do."

Beth nodded and looked to the older girls, as well. "Sounds fun to me."

Something about being around the other girls had made her feel a little more secure again. The urge to flee back into hiding had left her for the moment, and spending a little time listening in on the other girls' gossip sounded like a good alternative to going home and worrying. Besides, she could always change her mind and bail. There was always a way out.

Daryl and Carol had taken their places at the front of the class while Tobin, Sophia, and Charlie stood nearby in the front row. Beth kept glancing at Tobin, but he seemed totally focused on Carol and Daryl and wasn't paying her any mind. She assured herself that was a good sign.

Her muscles thanked her for stretching them out, and when class began, she attentively watched Daryl and Carol from where she stood, tuning out the whispers and giggles from the girls around her. For a second, she wondered what Tara and Rosita thought was so funny, or what Clem and Enid were whispering about. But only because that small, paranoid part of her feared it had something to do with her. Even though they weren't even looking at her and she knew better than that.

Beth practiced last week's lesson with Clem, though they admittedly half-assed it in their attempts to be more careful. When a cramp ran through Beth's lower abdomen, she called for a break and took a seat while people continued practicing around her. Clem made sure she was okay before turning and joining Enid and Enid's partner with their revision.

Beth had spotted Daryl on the other side of the large group of people a few moments prior but had tried, for the most part, to keep her eyes to herself. As she sat on the mat and gazed around at the others in class practicing their moves, though, she realized he was nowhere to be found. Then he appeared beside her, and he was squatting down to get closer.

"Oh – hey," she smiled, surprised by his appearance.

His brow was furrowed. "You alrigh'?"

She nodded. "Yeah, just takin' a rest before we move on."

"Sure you wanna finish the lesson?" Daryl asked quietly, glancing at the other girls briefly.

"I'm fine, really," Beth smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about me, it ain't that serious."

He was looking her up and down, still expressing concern. He nodded feebly and mumbled, "If you say so. Don't push yerself t'keep up, I'll be watchin' ya."

Beth rolled her eyes playfully but smiled at him, maybe a little more flirtatiously than she'd intended. Then she joked, "Sure thing, _Teach_."

Daryl smirked and shook his head, standing up and giving her a lingering look before he walked away to check on a nearby group that seemed to be struggling. She watched him go but quickly tore her eyes away, glancing at Clem and the others to check if they'd seen the exchange. No one else was paying attention except Rosita, who glanced away when Beth's eyes met hers and didn't look back as she smiled knowingly.

The rest of class went on without incident. Beth practiced a few moves and paid close attention to Daryl and Carol's lesson, but refrained herself from getting too sweaty or out-of-breath. Her cramps eventually faded away, though, and she noticed Daryl eyeing her from afar when he made his rounds after the demonstration. When he got closer, she flashed him a big smile and saw his cheeks turn pink before he turned and headed toward another group of people. She realized afterward that Clem had witnessed the scene, but her expression was quizzical and Beth merely shrugged it off before looking away as if nothing had happened. Clem turned back to Enid and seemed to forget about it.

By the time Daryl and Carol were bidding everyone goodbye and promising to see them all next Saturday, Beth was half-listening to the other girls quietly chatting about their lunch plans. The class began to break apart and pack up their things, the front door opening once more as people slowly filtered out. Beth trailed after the other girls to the lockers, where she put her shoes back on and stuffed her phone into her pocket. She spotted Carol, Tobin, and Daryl standing around Malachi, interacting with the toddler. Tobin still wasn't looking at her, at least that she'd noticed, and she was feeling a little more sure that her paranoia had been kicking in earlier.

Before she could give it much more thought, Rosita's voice was in her ear.

"You comin', _chica_?" She asked.

Beth turned and saw Rosita's and Clem's expectant faces. She nodded. "Yeah, we goin' now?"

Clem nodded and gestured for Beth to come along as she, Rosita, Tara, and Enid began moving toward the front door.

"Oh – hold on, I jus' gotta let Daryl know," Beth said, glancing back to where Daryl stood at the other side of the gym.

Rosita paused and furrowed her brow. "You got a key, right? What's he care?"

Beth froze and shrugged, biting the inside of her cheek. "Well, yeah, I jus' – wanted t'let him know…"

"He'll figure it out," Clem said, but Beth could see a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lip. "You don't need permission, do you?"

Beth momentarily narrowed her eyes at Clem but tried to wipe it off quickly, shrugging and attempting to appear as indifferent as possible. "No – I guess it's just… force'a habit. Let's go."

That statement brought out a slightly concerned appearance in Rosita's eyes and a somewhat apologetic expression on Clem's face, but the girls nodded and gestured for Beth to join them as they headed for the front door. She followed, slipping her sunglasses on as Tara and Enid led the group through the door first.

Before she stepped outside, though, she took one last look over her shoulder and saw Daryl glancing in her direction as he stood with Carol, Tobin, Malachi, and the preteen girls. She was too far away to tell, and the sunglasses made it hard to see, but she could've sworn he was furrowing his brow and giving her a look of bewilderment as she strolled out the door and down the sidewalk.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** What does Tobin know...? ;)


	40. know the things that i've been making up

_**know the things that i've been making up inside my head;**_

Tara led the group of women to the same bar and grill they'd visited after Beth's first self-defense class with them. They got a corner booth near the bar, one of the few in the small establishment that had a half-circle seat around the table. Tara plopped down first and scooted to the middle with Rosita and Enid squeezing in on her left side and Clementine squeezing in on her right. Beth took the end seat next to Clem on Tara's right, leaving her sitting across from Rosita and Enid. A waitress approached and handed out menus, taking drink orders and carding Rosita and Tara when they ordered beers.

"You wanna get a beer? I'll buy," Tara proposed, looking at Beth as the waitress stood and waited to see if anyone else wanted to order alcohol.

Beth shook her head and smiled politely. "Oh – no, thank you, I don't really feel like drinkin'."

Clem furrowed her brow but didn't question it, and Tara shrugged, then turned back to the waitress and thanked her.

Beth had ordered a lemonade and she was gazing down at the menu, happy that her appetite was back to normal while looking over the burger options. She was so busy thinking about food that she wasn't paying any attention to the other girls or what they were talking about. Then she felt Clem nudge her lightly and she lifted her eyes from the menu to meet Clem's brown eyes.

"Everything – good?" She asked quietly while the other girls were occupied with a separate conversation, paying little attention to Clem and Beth at the moment.

Beth nodded but gave Clem a quizzical look. "Yeah…?"

Clem shrugged and asked, still hushed, "You're not drinking 'cause you feel sick, then?"

Beth shook her head and chuckled lightly. "No, I'm not drinkin' 'cause it's barely noon. An' I don't like beer."

Clem raised her eyebrows. "And you don't wanna get carded…?"

Beth's smile disappeared and she leaned in a little closer to Clem, their voices lowered. "You know I don't have my ID."

"Yeah, but why don't you just go get a new one?" Clem asked. "I mean – it's been like, three weeks since you got out, right?"

Beth nodded and swallowed, prepared to recite the lie she'd grown used to repeating. "Yeah, but… it's still too soon. He could be lookin' for me, I wanna stay off the radar for a little while."

Clem was studying Beth's eyes closely and she hesitantly nodded, though she didn't look completely convinced. "Right… I guess that makes sense."

Beth gave Clem a crooked half-smile, more questioning than anything. "Why're you so worried about it anyway?"

Clem shrugged but didn't waiver, keeping her voice lowered so the other girls didn't pay them any attention. "I just… wanna see you move on, ya know. It's not _healthy_ to slink around in the shadows like some kinda criminal when you're, like… a victim."

" _Survivor_ ," The word rolled off Beth's tongue and out of her mouth so quickly, she hadn't had time to think about it. It came out sharp and biting, and Clem pursed her lips and leaned away the slightest bit – just enough for Beth to notice the subconscious body language.

"Sorry, dude," Clem muttered quietly, and Beth immediately felt bad.

"No, I – sorry," Beth mumbled. "I know what you mean, though. Thanks for worryin'… I jus' need some time, is all. I'll get it figured out."

Clem nodded, appearing a little relieved. "Yeah, I know you will."

The waitress reappeared with drinks and handed them out accordingly, then took everyone's food orders. Clem and Beth turned their attentions back to the group, joining in on the light-hearted conversation and shared laughs. Tara and Rosita gave Enid a hard time about her boyfriend – drilling her with questions about his intentions and plans for the future. Enid's face turned red and she answered as many questions as she could before Tara was causing her to laugh uncontrollably.

The girls moved on to discussing class and what they thought of Tobin. Beth sank back into her seat and listened, keeping her lips shut except to take sips of lemonade. But she looked to each person as they spoke and nodded, hoping no one would ask her opinion. She still couldn't shake the feeling Tobin's gaze had given her… like he knew something that she didn't. It was enough to make her skin crawl in a whole new way.

But the general consensus seemed to be that he was an all-around nice guy, polite, friendly, and warm towards Carol and Sophia. It seemed his daughter, Charlie, was just about as quiet as Sophia, but that was to be expected. Rosita expressed her hopes that Sophia would have a new, close friend that might one day become a step-sister. Tara laughed and told her it was more likely that they'd end up hating each other. Beth pursed her lips and tried not to think about Maggie.

Then she saw the mischievous spark in Clem's eyes as the curly-haired girl looked to Rosita with raised eyebrows and asked, "And what about _your_ new man?"

Rosita blinked and grinned innocently. " _What_ new man?"

"Oh, she probably means Spencer," Tara said, which made Rosita reach over and slap her on the arm. Tara laughed and leaned away in mock defense. " _Hey_! Uncalled for."

Rosita was laughing but threw a playful side-eye in Tara's direction. "You guys are such loudmouths, I swear."

Enid laughed. "It's not like we wouldn't have figured it out eventually."

Rosita rolled her eyes while Tara nodded in agreement.

"You posted a _bed_ picture to Instagram – did you think we wouldn't see it?" Clem teased.

"Okay, that was just because I know Austin is still creeping my page and I wanted to post something that would piss him off," Rosita explained, sipping her beer before finishing. "You can't even see Spencer's face, he could be anybody."

"Any _dude_ ," Tara said with a mischievous smirk, elbows rested on the table while she looked at Rosita. "I'm tellin' you, if you'd just let me take you to that club – "

"Oh my _god_ , would you let me have a sexual reawakening on my _own_ time?!" Rosita said defensively, her face cracking into a huge, playful grin as soon as the words came out.

All the girls laughed and Tara shook her head, smiling and taking a long swig of her beer.

"Seriously, though – _Spencer_ …?!" Enid asked, grimacing briefly as she gazed at Rosita with perplexity.

Rosita chuckled and shrugged. "I know, but it's really not like that. I don't want anything serious out of it and, trust me, he doesn't either."

"You know _for_ _sure_?" Tara asked, and Beth could tell in her tone that she was referencing something that only she and Rosita knew about. Beth could only assume it was a similar instance with another guy in the past.

Rosita nodded reassuringly, turning and looking at her best friend. "Yes, I'm _sure_." She turned back to the others and took another sip of her beer. "Jeez, what's with the interrogation about my new piece of ass…"

Enid laughed and Clem shrugged, chiming in, "It's just… kinda soon, isn't it? I mean, Austin turned out to be such a…"

" _Fucking_ _scumbag_ ," Tara finished for her.

Clem nodded in agreement, as did the others, and Rosita rolled her eyes and sighed.

"I know, but – seriously, it's not like that. I've known him longer, we're just friends," she explained, gaze bouncing between Tara and Clem. "With benefits."

Enid raised her eyebrows and Tara chuckled, draining the last drops of her beer.

"It's been… a week," Clem mumbled, smirking and looking at Rosita knowingly.

"Eh, I guess it might be a little soon," Rosita went on thoughtfully, fingers circling the condensation on the glass in front of her. She didn't seem to care what the other girls thought – Beth envied that. Rosita continued, "But the best way to get _over_ somebody is to get _under_ somebody – I mean, it's always worked for me."

Enid giggled and covered her mouth and Tara laughed aloud, nodding in agreement. Beth heard Clem let out a quiet chuckle and she thought she might've giggled herself, but the words elicited a new string of thoughts in her head that she couldn't quite ignore. And it was unsettling.

"It's true," Tara said, as though the statement had put all their worries to rest. The girls shared another laugh.

Rosita added, right before draining the last of her beer, "It's called a rebound – _everybody_ does it at some point in their lives."

Tara nodded in agreement while Clem shrugged and said, "Guess I haven't gotten there yet."

Enid chuckled and joked, "Wow, I hope I'm not getting a glimpse into my own future."

The girls laughed again, Rosita throwing her head back and putting a hand to her chest while she laughed loudly.

But Beth was lingering on what Rosita had said. She couldn't help but think of Daryl, and she began to wonder if she'd inadvertently used him as some sort of rebound from Jimmy. It was true that he made her feel better, made her feel like maybe she wasn't quite as broken as she'd thought. But he was damaged, too, and what if these feelings were only temporary? Or some sort of illusion? What if his weren't? Or what if they were? Would she be the one to hurt him – or would he do it first? Maybe she was his rebound, too. Could it be possible that they were using each other?

Did someone who was still trying to get over their ex normally look at another person the way Daryl had looked at Beth? The way he _kept_ looking at her? Or was she imagining it all in her head?

She'd grown silent while the other girls continued chatting and gossiping, joking and laughing and teasing each other. She was lost in her own head, mind racing with thoughts of Daryl and what they'd been doing behind closed doors. It all felt surreal when she thought about it outside of the apartment. Yet it felt so tangible and natural when they were alone together. Which didn't help her to decide whether they were burying their demons inside each other or if they were mining for hidden deposits of untapped affection. Either way, they were chipping away at _something_ , and now that she was thinking about it, she was growing fearful of what they both might find.

Would Daryl see the cracks in her and try to cover them, fill them? Or would he dig his fingers in, pry them open wider and let the light in – and beg her let him in to see the darkness that lay at the bottom?

The waitress reappeared with trays full of food, naming dishes and handing them out to each woman at the table. Before she left, Tara and Rosita asked for more beer, and all the others thanked her for their food. The hum of their conversation died down as they all began digging in to their food. Beth stared down at a juicy bacon cheeseburger and fries that sat before her, plucking out a few fries and popping them in her mouth as she idly listened to Tara and Rosita joking with each other while they waited for their beers.

Beth felt a vibration in her pocket as she vaguely listened to the other girls chatting and joking. She continued munching on fries while reaching down with her free hand and pulling out her phone. She kept it close to her lap as she looked down at the screen and saw a new text notification. It was from Daryl. Her heart leapt and she wasn't sure why. The text message read:

 _You coming home tonight?_

She furrowed her brow, rereading the text and wondering why he'd ask such a silly question. But then she remembered the look on his face when he'd seen her leaving the gym and she suddenly felt guilty. Did he think she had blown him off? She quickly tapped Reply and typed out a response with one hand that read:

 _Of course. Was gonna come home after lunch with the girls._

She was about to add, "Why wouldn't I?" to the end of the message but decided against it and deleted it. She never liked making her text messages too wordy, she was always afraid it would annoy him. He was a busy guy, after all.

Beth pressed Send but hadn't realized Clementine was peering over her shoulder. When she looked up, their eyes met and Clem raised her eyebrows, swallowing the bite of food she'd been chewing on. Beth could tell she hadn't been looking over for long – just long enough to see Daryl's name on the screen.

"Textin' your secret lover over here?" She teased with a mischievous smirk, loud enough that the others could hear.

Beth's face immediately heated up and she stuffed the phone back into her pocket quickly, looking down at her food and stuffing a couple more fries into her mouth. But the table's attention was already turned to her.

" _Lover_? So somebody else has a rebound, too?" Rosita remarked with an impish smile in between bites of her chef salad. "Good, now you guys can stop worrying about mine."

Clem scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"You met somebody already?" Tara asked, looking at Beth quizzically with a half-eaten chicken strip still held in her hand.

Beth's face grew hotter, if that was possible. She shook her head and looked down at her food, away from the other girls' eyes. But she could feel them all staring at her and looking to each other with curious expressions.

Her voice came out faint and flustered. "No, I – "

"Oh, wait – _seriously_?" Rosita asked, smile fading as she glanced back and forth between Tara and Beth while Tara waited for an answer. "I thought Clem was joking..."

Clem started, "I kinda was, but – "

"Oh my gosh," Enid gasped quietly, eyebrows raised in surprise as she stared at Beth from across the table, fork frozen in her hand. "Is it _Daryl_?!"

Beth's stomach turned and suddenly, the food before her didn't look so appealing anymore. She shook her head again and lifted her eyes to look around at everyone, fully aware that her face was the color of a ripe tomato. She swallowed hard and quickly went over all the lies in her head – the recitations she'd been habitually spewing for the last two weeks. But it was harder to convincingly lie to four other people than it was to convince just one or two at a time – especially four very observant, very curious women. Would they fall for Beth's ruse? Or would they see right through her?

"No, I – she was jokin'," Beth laughed, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt. But it wasn't working very well and she could see a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of Rosita's mouth. "We're jus' roommates – and I _don't_ have a _lover_."

"I _thought_ I saw you two looking at each other differently," Rosita said, and Beth couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

Enid's eyes were wide with surprise and she glanced back and forth from Beth to Clem, then to Rosita. " _Differently_ …?"

"I _was_ joking – but you guys kinda _do…_ text pretty often," Clem added, giving Beth an apologetic look then lifting one eyebrow curiously.

Beth rolled her eyes and tried not to focus on how hot her face was and how dry her mouth felt. She chewed the inside of her cheek nervously and looked at Clem, then at Rosita, and said, "It ain't like that. We look at each other differently 'cause we're becoming _friends_ – we live together, that's what happens."

Rosita chuckled and stabbed her fork into the salad before her, exchanging a look with Tara and shrugging.

Tara stifled a chuckle and said, "I guess, sometimes. But I've had lots of roommates and I don't talk to any of them anymore. Except this one." She jabbed a thumb in Rosita's direction.

Rosita giggled quietly. "I've never looked at any of _my_ roommates like that, but…"

Beth could feel the back of her neck perspiring and she chewed on the inside of her cheek until it was raw. Her voice came out quieter than she intended, "Well, I haven't had many roommates, so maybe Daryl's jus' the one I'll make friends with..."

"He doesn't really seem like the type to wanna make new friends," Enid commented, taking another bite of her pasta and looking around at the other girls.

Rosita shrugged again and her face grew thoughtful. "I don't think he wants to. He's not big on new people – "

"He barely even talks to _us_ , and I think he actually considers us to be something like friends," Clem interjected.

"From what Carol says, anyway," Tara commented, taking a hearty swig of beer.

Beth shrugged, the exchange of looks between the girls at the table sending a hurricane of emotions through her stomach. She watched them all carefully, searching for the disgust and the judgment. But they mostly seemed curious – or baffled. She was grateful that they didn't seem repulsed at the idea of her and Daryl in a romantic sense. But why was it so hard for them to believe that she and Daryl had become _friends_ in the last two-and-a-half weeks?

"I talk to Carol just as much as I talk t'him," Beth muttered, lifting her glass of lemonade and gulping it down gratefully. But she could still feel the other girls' eyes studying her.

 _Why are they so insistent that it's something more?_ She thought. _Do we have 'We Fucked' written on our foreheads or something?!_

"Yeah, but that's _Carol_ ," Rosita said. "And Carol hasn't been eye-fucking you during class."

Tara was taking a drink of beer and began sputtering, lowering the glass and nearly choking. She coughed as Rosita turned to her in surprise to check that she was okay. But Tara was already laughing, holding her chest and setting her glass back down on the table.

The other girls laughed with her. Beth's lips were parted, prepared to say something but losing the words. Their laughter died down but it didn't help the heat in her cheeks.

" _Eye-fucking_ …?!" Beth repeated, staring at Rosita with a look of incredulity. She blinked and shook her head, letting out a laugh that sounded considerably more convincing than her prior attempts. "What does that even _mean_?"

"Y'know, eye-fucking," Tara said. "I mean – the dude gives a lotta looks, but – "

"Not like _that_ ," Rosita finished for her, staring at Beth with raised eyebrows. "Mostly scowls. But he's not even just _staring_ at you – and you did it, too."

Beth furrowed her brow. "What? I did?"

Rosita nodded and Tara watched the exchange with interest.

"I noticed that, too," Clem smirked, glancing beside her to Beth. Beth shot her a brief glare but Clem continued to smirk, nudging Beth playfully. "C'mon, dude, you guys were _flirting_ today. Did you think we wouldn't notice?"

"That means Carol probably noticed, too – why hasn't _she_ said anything?" Enid commented, pushing around bits of pasta with her fork.

"Well, she _has_ been trying to set him up on dates lately," Tara said.

Beth put up her hands half-defensively and rested her elbows on the table, sitting up a little straighter and forcing herself to steady her voice. "Okay – I get it. Maybe I – maybe I'm doin' some stuff accidentally, I don't even realize it. But I don't mean to. An' I _really_ think you're looking way too deep into it. He's not..." She did air quotations with her fingers and finished, "' _Eye-fucking'_ me."

Tara shrugged. "It's all good, dude – I wouldn't admit that I was attracted to Denise for the first eight months we knew each other."

Rosita furrowed her brow and turned to Tara. "I thought you said you fell in love with her in the first _three_ months that you knew her?"

Tara smiled proudly. "I did."

Clem and Enid laughed while Rosita shook her head and smiled, returning to the last bites of her salad.

"It's not – that's _not_ the case here," Beth muttered, hands in her lap again as she picked at her fingernails nervously. "We don't see each other that way. Like… I don't think he's _capable_ of seein' me that way."

Tara let out a high-pitched, " _Ha_!"

Rosita quickly followed with a scoff and said, "You must be blind then. I've _never_ seen him look at somebody like that."

Clem added, "Not that we've seen him look at all that many people, but she has a point – "

"Okay, but the class is like, ninety-five-percent women," Tara interrupted. "And half of them wanna suck his – "

" _Okay_! We get it," Enid cut her off with a stiff smile, causing Tara and Rosita to laugh.

"Well, a lot of that can be contributed to the whole 'single dad who brings his cute toddler to class' factor," Clem said with a playful smile.

Beth shook her head and looked around at the girls with skepticism, afraid to sound overly defensive if she said anything. She stopped to meet Rosita's thoughtful gaze.

"It's okay, ya know," Rosita said, setting down her fork and focusing her suddenly intense gaze on Beth's eyes. There was no trace of joking or sarcasm in her voice this time. The other girls were preoccupied with their food and drinks for a brief moment as the conversation lulled.

Beth raised her eyebrows, gazing back quizzically and lightly chuckling like it was a joke she didn't quite understand. "What d'you mean?"

"You and Daryl," Rosita said plainly, her lips gradually growing into a small smirk. "It's not a big deal. If you guys are hooking up or whatever – it's not any of our business. We're just giving you shit 'cause we like you. And we like Daryl."

Her words left Beth reeling and she couldn't find a response. Then Tara chimed in with a similar tone to Rosita's and Beth looked at her as she spoke.

"Yeah, dude – he's kind of an asshole, but he's still our friend, and we know how he is," Tara said. "You don't have to hide it from us. We don't really care, but you can't expect to not get shit about it."

Beth chuckled hesitantly and searched for signs of a smile or a joking expression on the girls' faces, but there were none. The anxiety in her gut settled and, for the briefest moment, she actually thought about admitting to their suspicions.

 _But what if Daryl doesn't want them to know?_ She thought, biting back her words.

"Isn't he kinda old, though?" Enid asked quietly, glancing around the table.

Rosita and Tara laughed loudly, shaking their heads.

"You better be shittin' me right now," Tara said, looking at Enid with a playful grin.

Enid smiled and shrugged. "What? I'm just saying – isn't he like, thirty-something?"

Beth glanced around and saw Clem rolling her eyes while Tara and Rosita chuckled again. She pursed her lips and looked down at her burger sheepishly, racking her brain for a way to veer the subject away from Daryl.

"Yeah, old for you – 'cause you're _sixteen_ ," Rosita said. "Rosie's a grown woman, she can make her own decisions."

 _Except I'm only two years older than her – is that really grown?_ Beth thought, a stab of guilt tingling in her chest.

Tara laughed again and said, "Doesn't matter anyway. My parents were twelve years apart in age – "

"Daryl's kind of like, twenty-five in his head anyway," Clem commented thoughtfully, looking to the other girls for affirmation.

Enid and Rosita nodded while Tara shrugged. Beth was chewing on the inside of her cheek again, the burger sitting in front of her half-eaten and lukewarm.

"Why d'you say that?" Beth asked, looking to Clem. "He's smart, he's responsible, he's a good dad – "

"No, I don't mean like _that_ ," Clem explained.

"Like, emotionally," Rosita interjected, and Clem looked over at her and nodded.

"Oh," Beth said quietly, immediately understanding and looking away with contemplation.

Rosita began, "The only thing about it is Malachi – "

But her sentence was cut off by a man approaching the girls' booth and leaning down over the table, interrupting their conversation and drawing mixed looks of confusion from Rosita, Tara, Enid, Clem, and Beth. The man was tall and looked like he was in his mid-twenties, and he smelled distinctly of beer and chicken wings. His eyes were set on Rosita as he seemingly ignored the other four women sitting around the table.

"Hey, gorgeous, I wanted t'come over here an' buy you a drink – "

" _Excuse_ me?" Rosita stopped him, a look of incredulity on her face as she stared at the man, brown eyes narrowed.

He laughed like she was joking. "I said, I wanna buy you a drink – how 'bout we – "

"Can you not see that you're leaning _over_ my friends and their food right now, and interrupting our conversation?" Rosita stopped him again, her voice growing louder.

The man's smile disappeared and he furrowed his brow. "C'mon, I jus' wanted t'come get to know ya, lemme buy you a drink and – "

Rosita raised her voice until it was loud enough to be heard very clearly over the buzz of the establishment, "I don't _care_ how much I look like your sister, I told you I don't want to have _sex_ with you! Please leave me alone!"

Nearly every head inside the small bar and grill had turned to look at the man standing over Rosita's table, conversations coming to a halt as several people laughed – including Tara.

"You're a fuckin' stuck-up _bitch_ , you know that?!" The man yelled at Rosita, stepping back from the table with a furious look on his face. "Ugly slut, I didn't wanna – "

Before he could finish his angry rant, Tara grabbed the nearest full glass she could find, which just happened to be Enid's Dr. Pepper, and leaned across the table to splash its contents onto the man. " _Whoops_!"

"Are you _fucking_ kidding me?!" The man bellowed, hands held out as dark, sticky soda soaked his shirt and dripped down his face and arms, plastering his hair to his forehead. He blinked and wiped his eyes, growing angrier. More laughs rose from a handful of other patrons nearby.

But the ruckus had attracted the attention of management and a man wearing a button-up shirt and a tie came rushing over with another man who looked to be security before the tall guy could say or do anything else. They ushered him toward the door, talking over his angry shouts and cussing. The manager apologized to the girls briefly before rushing off to help escort the aggressive man outside, and once he was out of earshot, they all looked to each other in shock before bursting into laughter.

"Why did it have to be _my_ drink?!" Enid asked, still grinning and looking to Tara.

The only good thing about the random incident with the slightly drunk guy was that it distracted everyone, and left them joking and laughing about the incident and others similar to it for the remainder of the meal. Beth remained quiet, though, watching and listening and hoping her face was done turning red for the day. She was relieved to discover that they were all as ready to leave as she had been, and once their check was paid, she left her half-eaten burger and fries covered with a napkin amongst the other girls' empty plates.

* * *

 _It was a cold winter in Georgia. The magic of Christmas and the New Year had already faded away, and the dark, frozen gloom had set in before the arrival of spring. Tensions around the farm had only grown worse since Thanksgiving, and Beth hadn't failed to notice the stiff glances that were being exchanged in church lately. She'd also noticed that T-Dog hadn't come around for a meal with the Greene's since his gunshot wound. Though his mother and aunt hadn't seemed to be acting any differently in church, T-Dog was pursing his lips and staring up at Hershel with an intense gaze more often than not. But his dark SUV with the tinted windows still showed up in the driveway every week, like clockwork. Beth told herself it was none of her business – she had enough to worry about with all her AP and Honors classes, and the excessive chores her momma was assigning to her lately. It left her no time to eavesdrop or lurk around where she wasn't supposed to be. And she was starting to think maybe that was a good thing._

 _It was a Saturday night and most of the Greene's were occupied with their own chores. Maggie and Glenn were out somewhere for the night, presumably visiting Atlanta and escaping the stress of the farm for a night before having to return to church with their usual masks on the next morning. Beth had finished her homework early, as well as her Saturday chores around the house and farm, so she and Shawn had wandered off outside after helping their parents clean up from dinner. Not that Hershel and Annette had cared – Hershel trusted Shawn to keep Beth safe at all times, and Annette had seemed distracted with other matters that she wanted to discuss with Hershel. So when Shawn nodded to Beth and gestured for her to follow him outside, she'd only glanced at her momma for an affirming nod before following her big brother out the back door._

 _The sky was completely dark, even though it was barely past seven in the evening. Beth looked up and saw all the stars sparkling against a black setting, the crescent moon hanging off to the side. The air was cold and sharp, biting at her nose and cheeks. She pulled the knitted, white beanie lower over her ears to keep out the cold, her hair acting as a blanket for the back of her neck, exposed beneath her thick coat. Shawn was wearing an old baseball cap over his mop of dark hair and a Carhartt coat, left open as he strolled through the dead grass beside Beth. He'd always had thicker skin than her – in more ways than one._

" _Finished all yer homework, right?" Shawn asked, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket and shaking one out into his hand._

 _Beth watched him place it between his lips and light it with a Zippo that came from his pocket. "Yeah, 'course – better not let Daddy see you doin' that."_

 _Shawn scoffed and glanced over at his little sister, giving her a small smirk as he exhaled a cloud of smoke and ashed the cigarette off to the side. "Dad don't care. It's Momma I gotta keep it from. Ain't gonna tell her, are ya?"_

 _Beth smiled, giving her brother a knowing look. "I ain't no rat."_

 _Shawn chuckled and she saw his eyes sparkle as he took another drag off the cigarette. "I know it, I was jus' givin' ya shit… This damn family made me start smokin'. Better vice than what I_ _ **could**_ _pick up, though."_

 _Beth arched a brow, still half-smiling. "You mean better than drinkin', like Daddy used to?"_

 _Shawn shrugged. "Yeah. Or, ya know, samplin' the product."_

 _Beth nodded and her smile quickly faded, glancing down at the dead grass crunching beneath her boots. She looked ahead and saw that they were approaching the garage, away from the barns and stables and surrounded by old, broken-down cars. She turned her head and gave Shawn a quizzical look. "What're we doin' out here?"_

 _He nodded toward one of the vehicles they were approaching. "Well, ya know how Mom an' Dad don't want you learnin' how ta shoot…"_

 _Beth's heart leapt and her mouth grew into a smile. She gazed at her brother, but he was looking ahead to where they were walking, still puffing on the cigarette between his fingers. She asked excitedly, "We're not… Are you…?"_

 _Shawn chuckled and shook his head, briefly glancing over at her. "Nah – you kiddin'? I_ _ **wish**_ _, li'l sis. No way I could hide that from Dad, though. He'd kill me… I was jus' gonna teach ya somethin' else – might come in handy, might not. Still a good skill t'have."_

 _Beth furrowed her brow but didn't question him as they approached one of the older cars. Shawn tossed his cigarette butt to the ground and motioned for her to head around to the passenger side while he opened up the driver's side door. It was unlocked, of course, and Beth had to pull hard on the door to open it, finding it stiff and almost frozen shut. It was obvious this vehicle hadn't been touched in ages. It was an old, beaten-down Honda that Beth had only seen leave the property a handful of times in her entire life, though it had been sitting outside the garage for as long as she could remember, right beside a dozen other vehicles that barely ran. The interior wasn't in terrible condition, and the dome light still came on when the doors opened. But it was just as cold inside as it was outside of the car, and shutting the doors didn't help much except to keep the light evening breeze off their faces._

 _Shawn reached up and turned on the dome light, illuminating the interior of the old car. The dash was covered with a layer of dust and there wasn't anything inside to indicate anyone ever having driven this vehicle before. But Beth knew her daddy didn't leave anything personal inside any of these vehicles. All the good stuff was locked up inside the garage._

" _What're we doin'?" Beth asked quietly, looking to her big brother with another quizzical gaze._

 _Shawn smiled. "I'm gonna teach ya how ta hotwire a car, Bethy."_

 _Beth couldn't contain the grin that broke out on her face. Her eyes got a little wider and she paused, waiting for Shawn to tell her that he was joking or to start laughing at how she'd fallen for his prank. But he didn't, and her heart leapt again._

 _Shawn raised his eyebrows and stopped her before she could open her mouth. "Ya still can't tell Dad, though. Got it? He wouldn't be too mad, but it ain't somethin' a teenage girl's got any business learnin'."_

 _Beth's grin faded and she nodded. "You sound like Momma…"_

" _Yeah, well that's what she'd say. An' Dad would back her up in a heartbeat, jus' remember that," Shawn said, then gave her one of his goofy half-smiles to lighten the mood._

 _She smiled again and glanced down at his hands, watching as he reached into one of the deep, inside pockets of his jacket and pulled out two screwdrivers. He motioned for Beth to lean in closer to the space below the steering wheel, and she did, watching closely as he pointed out the screws in the panel._

" _Yer a fast learner, you won't have any trouble pickin' up on this," Shawn explained. "But ya gotta pay attention, alrigh'? We can only practice on a couple cars out here, so you'll have t'catch on pretty quick."_

 _Beth nodded. "I always do."_

 _He smirked and set about explaining the various ways a car could be started without a key. She listened attentively and watched her big brother's every movement. When it came time to look at exposed wires, she slipped on the pair of gloves he handed her without hesitation. She looked into his eyes and nodded, assuring him she understood how dangerous it was to touch live wires. Sometimes, she couldn't help but feel like a little girl around Shawn. She knew he was protective out of love, but it became a bit smothering sometimes, especially combined with how protective Hershel, Annette, and Maggie were already._

 _But then again, who was she to complain? Shawn had taught her lots of things throughout the years that their parents probably wouldn't have approved of. If it weren't for Shawn and Maggie, Beth knew she'd be painfully ignorant. And weak... She'd be a lot more like the other seventeen-year-old girls._

 _Shawn watched closely and instructed Beth every step of the way as she carefully used the wire cutters and strippers he'd handed her, then connected the loose ends with steady, gloved hands. When the car's engine came to life and the dash lit up, so did Beth's face. She looked up at Shawn, grinning._

 _He smiled proudly and nodded. "There ya go! Ya jus' hotwired a car, baby sister."_

 _Still grinning, Beth asked, "Can we do another one?"_

 _He laughed and leaned back down to look at the wires, carefully disconnecting them again. The car grew quiet and dark once more, and Shawn gathered his tools back up and slipped his gloves off._

" _Maybe one more tonight," he said, glancing over at her before grabbing the door handle and pushing it open._

 _Beth's heart leapt with more excitement and she opened the passenger side door to step out and follow her brother a couple yards away, to another old car that she'd only seen leave the property a few times. This time, when they approached it, Shawn motioned for her to get inside the driver's side while he took the passenger seat. She hadn't bothered to take off the gloves he gave her, slipping inside the old vehicle and shutting the door. Shawn reached up and turned on the dome light to reveal another empty, dusty interior._

" _Okay, think you can do this one all on yer own?" He asked, setting the small pile of tools between them on the bench-style seat._

 _Beth nodded confidently, glancing at her brother with an excited smile before grabbing the screwdriver and getting to work. "Definitely."_

 _It only took a few minutes for her to correctly recite what Shawn had taught her, hesitating when she reached the wires and listening to his instructions as he explained the common differences in older models. She nodded and moved slowly, and her heart leapt when the car came to life a few minutes later._

"' _Atta girl!" Shawn smiled, clapping happily._

 _He reached over and showed her how to carefully disconnect the wires, silencing the vehicle once more and leaving them sitting beneath the dim dome light. Beth turned her body to face her brother, still grinning proudly._

" _So what grade d'ya give me?" She asked._

 _He chuckled and gazed off thoughtfully for a second, then looked at her and said, "A-minus."_

" _ **Minus**_ _?!" Beth cried, grin disappearing._

 _Shawn laughed. "Hey, nobody's perfect! That's even better than passing fer yer first time."_

 _Beth shrugged, smiling again, and rolled her eyes playfully. "Yeah, I guess."_

" _Perfection's overrated, Bethy, you know that," he said with a half-smile._

 _Beth scowled teasingly, but couldn't hold back another grin when Shawn retaliated with a silly face that made her giggle. When he looked at her normally again, she asked, "So when's the next lesson? You been talkin' about teachin' me fighting moves fer months now."_

 _Shawn's smile disappeared almost instantly and he rubbed his nose uncomfortably, glancing away from Beth's eyes. "I know, I been… meanin' to. Shit's gotten pretty hectic lately."_

 _Beth thought about the last few months since she'd seen T-Dog in the barn with a bullet in his thigh. Things had grown tenser, her brother had been disappearing into the study with their dad more often, and sometimes Maggie and Glenn would disappear in there, too. And there'd been several Friday mornings where T-Dog had shown up and gone straight to Hershel's study in search of him. But Beth had always left for school before she could see T-Dog leave – or do whatever it was he did for the Greene's on Friday mornings. And she knew better than to get near the study door while Momma was making her morning rounds inside the house._

" _I… kinda noticed," Beth mumbled, watching her brother carefully._

 _Shawn looked over and met her eyes again, and she could see the troubled expression on his face despite the low lighting. "You know Mom an' Dad don't want you worryin' about it. Me an' Mags're still rallyin' fer you to learn how t'shoot. But it's like talkin' to a brick wall. 'Specially with T-Dog an'… everythin'…"_

 _Beth furrowed her brow and wanted to ask what "everything" was, but decided against it. She was probably better off not knowing anyway. It had something to do with The Governor; that was enough to know it was none of her business._

" _That's okay, Momma would never let me anyhow," she said quietly. "But she wouldn't say anythin' about you teachin' me like, self-defense. Didn't you an' Maggie learn some? No reason I can't."_

 _Shawn chuckled, but it wasn't light-hearted. "Yeah, that was… a different time. Dad mighta even taught ya himself if it was ten years ago. But there's jus' a lotta other shit that comes first these days."_

 _Beth gazed down at her lap and listened to her brother sigh tiredly. Then she said, "That ain't really fair…"_

 _To her surprise, Shawn didn't disagree with her, or tell her to stop acting bratty. Instead, he muttered, "No, it ain't. Yer right."_

 _Beth looked up and met his eyes, finding something that might've been remorse. But she wasn't sure._

" _Jus' be glad yer allowed ta see Jimmy. Maybe you guys can run off after graduation or somethin', get away from here," Shawn continued, and Beth was searching for any sign that he was joking. But his face was solemn. "Maybe you'll be able ta go to college… Jus' don't be like Maggie an' Glenn. I don't mean that in a bad way either, just – you deserve better than bein' stuck here, Bethy. And Jimmy ain't really the type ta handle this kinda responsibility the way Glenn does…"_

 _Beth searched his face and asked, "You think I'd just up an' leave you guys like that? Maggie an' Daddy don't think college is really in the works right now, and I dunno where else I'd go… Me an' Jimmy don't really have anythin' else."_

" _Then ya gotta find somethin'," Shawn said. "I know you don't wanna leave, I know you think you'd be abandoning us. But we'll be fine. Me an' Mags took on everything so you wouldn't have anything holdin' you back. Don't let Mom an' Dad guilt you into staying… Maggie's just bein' paranoid. We're close, though. Yer almost done with school, we'll be there 'fore we know it. It's this last stretch we gotta get through."_

 _Beth's heart had dropped down nearly to her stomach. She didn't like hearing her brother talk like this, especially when he was normally so optimistic and level-headed. She could hear the same dread in his voice that had been in Maggie's not too long ago. And the same glimmer of hope, too._

" _Is all this about T-Dog?" She asked quietly, looking down at her lap, unable to meet Shawn's gaze as the words came out._

 _She heard him scoff. "What?"_

" _The shooting – whatever happened with all that," Beth clarified, glancing up at him hesitantly. "Is it… is everybody scared 'cause a that?"_

 _Shawn's face grew solemn again and he didn't look away from his younger sister as he spoke. "That was just… one small part of somethin' a lot bigger. But nobody's scared, Bethy… We're bein'_ _ **careful**_ _. That's all."_

 _He seemed to recognize the disappointment on her face and added, "Wouldn't help nobody ta tell you about all that shit. Ain't no point in gettin' you all worked up over nothin'."_

 _She furrowed her brow. "Who says I'd get worked up?"_

 _Shawn shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. "You got enough ta worry about with honor roll an' all that academic shit – I might not agree with all of it, but I understand why Dad don't want you knowin'_ _ **everything**_ _. Keeps you safer."_

 _Beth rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, gazing off toward the windshield in a half-pout. "Now you sound just like him."_

" _C'mon, you don't wanna know every little detail – ain't no use in pretendin' ya do," Shawn said, still staring at her as she refused to meet his eyes. "You an' I_ _ **both**_ _know yer smarter'n that. If you really wanted t'know more, you would. Momma can't stop ya every time, neither can Dad… But some shit's jus' too heavy. So why take it on when ya ain't gotta?"_

 _Beth blinked and turned her head to hesitantly meet Shawn's gaze, still frowning. "Then why do you? Ya ain't_ _ **gotta**_ _. How could they stop you from leavin'? Or Maggie?"_

 _Shawn smirked and shook his head, brushing off her ridiculous idea. "Ain't that simple, Bethy. You know_ _ **that**_ _, too. 'M sure Maggie's told you more'n once… 'Sides, you think I'd just leave ya like that? Leave my family?"_

 _Beth shrugged, but she wasn't shrugging off the validity of his statement. She pulled her beanie down over her ears again._

" _Might not agree with everythin' Dad does, but I'll be_ _ **damned**_ _if I ever disrespect him. An' abandoning him would be about the worst form of disrespect," Shawn continued. "He's done right by me. Done his best – by_ _ **all**_ _of us. I owe him that much… Can't run out on the only people who got yer back unconditionally."_

 _Beth pursed her lips but didn't look away from her older brother. She nodded weakly in understanding, even though she didn't_ _ **really**_ _understand._

" _Promise me somethin'," He added after a brief pause._

 _She raised her eyebrows slightly and waited for him to go on._

" _Get outta here an' make somethin' of yerself, alright?" Shawn finished._

 _The sentiment would normally sound harmless. But something about her brother's voice sent a chill through her, and she couldn't help but sense the trepidation in his words. She'd never heard him talk like this before. But he and Maggie had been doing a lot of things they'd never done before…_

" _Okay," Beth said softly. "But you gotta promise_ _ **me**_ _somethin'."_

 _Shawn smirked and looked at her expectantly. "What's that?"_

" _Teach me as much as you can before I leave," she said._

 _He nodded, assessing her thoughtfully. "As much as I can… promise."_

 _Beth quickly slipped off the gloves and held out her hand to extend a pinky. Shawn glanced at her hand and immediately leaned forward to extend his own pinky out and clasp it with hers. Normally, the gesture would bring her comfort, like it always had since they were little kids. But right now, all she felt in the pit of her stomach was a growing dread, and apprehension about something she couldn't identify._

" _Promise," she vowed softly, then unclasped her pinky finger from her brother's._

 _But Shawn never got the chance to keep his promise._

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** The flashback takes place in February 2017 - about two months before Annette and Shawn were murdered. It's currently September 16, 2017. It's been exactly 3 weeks since the Greene Farm bust and about 2 1/2 weeks since Beth moved in with Daryl.  
WOW, here we are at 40 chapters! I can't believe it. This story has become a passion project for me and all your follows and reviews have meant the world to me. I thought we'd be nearly done by chapter 40, but here we are and I'm not even halfway there. So I hope y'all are ready in for a long and wild ride ;) Love all your theories and questions and it only makes me more excited for you to see how I'm going to connect all these dots and weave all these webs together. Thank you for reading :)


	41. and to know what's real

_**and to know what's real**_

Clementine walked Beth to the apartment building after they said goodbye to Rosita, Tara, and Enid and parted ways. Clem spent the majority of the walk venting about her parents and their crumbling marriage and her indecisiveness about a plan for the future. Beth was grateful that Daryl didn't come up, and tried to offer encouraging and comforting words for Clem's situation. But in the back of her head, she was still fretting over what the girls had said at lunch. Combined with the way Tobin had looked at her during class and the startling article by Jenny Jones, there was a heavy ball of anxiety building in her gut. She checked her phone a couple of times but Daryl hadn't sent her another text message.

Beth and Clem said goodbye shortly before three-thirty, when they approached the front of the apartment building. Beth entered the front doors and crossed the empty lobby, climbing the three flights of stairs fairly quickly. When she reached the landing, she began to hear faint voices. As she stepped lightly down the hallway, approaching the door to apartment 3A, the voices became clearer, and then she recognized them.

The door to apartment 3B was shut and there was no one else in the hallway, but she could see that the door to 3A was open ajar and it sounded like Daryl and Carol were talking just behind the front door. Their voices were hushed, but the hall and apartment were silent, making their words clear from a few feet away. Beth stopped in her tracks about a dozen steps back from the door, her feet making no sound on the floor, and stood close to the wall, out of sight from the doorway. She couldn't see them either, but she could hear them clearly.

Beth knew she shouldn't have stood there and eavesdropped – it was wrong. But old habits die hard.

"…look, all I'm saying is that you need t'be _careful_ ," Carol said. "I know you care about her, I know there's somethin' going on between you two, but she has a _lot_ goin' on right now. There are things you couldn't understand – "

"What – like the abortion?" Daryl interrupted, his voice a low growl.

Beth's breath caught in her throat and her hand went to her mouth, holding in any sounds that might've wanted to escape her mouth.

 _They're talking about me?_ She thought, frozen in place. _Fuck, this can't be good…_

"She told you?" Carol asked, sounding a little surprised.

"I ain't blind, I put two-an'-two together an' figured out she was pregnant," he muttered. "I asked her if she needed help an' she told me _you_ already helped her."

"She came to the final decision on her own, all I did was lay out the options for her and give her resources," Carol said.

"I know that – ain't none a my business," Daryl said. "But that means she came an' talked t'you. What else did she tell you?"

Beth swallowed past a growing knot in her throat, listening intently.

"That she was pregnant and needed help," Carol said plainly, voice still lowered. "It's what she _didn't_ say that has me worried..."

There was a pause and Beth braced herself to turn and run, or try to hide, in case Daryl was about to storm out into the hall. But there was no sound of movement.

Then she heard his voice again, still a low growl, "The hell's that s'posed ta mean?"

 _Yeah,_ Beth thought, her brow furrowed. _What_ _ **is**_ _that supposed to mean?_

Carol sighed audibly, and there was a brief pause. Then she said, "I know you've noticed it – how scared she is that her superhuman of an ex-boyfriend is going to track her down thousands of miles away. She's still so paranoid that she wears _colored_ _contacts_ out in public and looks around for _cameras_ , like he's just gonna appear and snatch her up, like – he's gonna somehow track her down through all this… She's got some serious shit going on in her head right now, and in her life, and whatever she got away from has left some really… _permanent_ damage. And I just don't think that – "

"Alright, an' she'll talk about it when she feels like it – she don't need you tryin' ta shrink her head," Daryl's voice cut in. "Whatever she's gotta do ta make herself feel safer ain't nobody else's concern."

 _Shit, she does notice more than she lets on,_ Beth thought. _I have to be more careful…_

"I'm not trying to _shrink_ anyone's head, Daryl, don't act like that," Carol said, her voice growing a little more irritated. "I just think there's a lotta things she's not telling us… I'm right about this and you _know_ it, and you haven't denied that there's somethin' going on with you two – "

"Since when the _fuck_ is that part a my life any a _yer_ business?" He growled, and Beth could hear the bitten-back anger in his tone.

But Carol's voice didn't waiver. In fact, it rose just the slightest bit. "Since it affects your _son_ – who I love like my own child. You two are my family, and I want to _protect_ you. Don't you see that? It's not just a flirtation or-or a kiss – this girl is living in your _home_ , Mal's growing attached to her. I've never seen you so quick to warm to someone like this…"

 _Jesus, why does everyone keep saying that? How long have they actually known him?_ Beth thought, her brow furrowed as she listened.

"It ain't nothin' serious right now, it's jus' – we ain't doin' nothin' _wrong_ ," Daryl argued, anger building in his voice. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you'd like ta think… Rosie either, fer that matter."

There was a brief silence. Beth's heart was thumping so hard against her chest that she was afraid they would hear it.

 _He's defending me?_ She thought. _He's defending me… us…_

"You're right, that part of your life _is_ none of my business. You might not be doing anything wrong, but what happens when you end up sleeping together? Sharing a bed? You can't hide it from Mal for long, he'll pick up on it," Carol said, voice lowered again. "And then when she leaves? Maybe it can just be sex for you, but that kid's gonna get confused, and hurt… And so are you."

Daryl scoffed. Beth was thankful that Carol hadn't figured out that they were _already_ sleeping together – quite literally.

"You think I don't know you like that, Daryl, but you forget how much time we've spent together and how much you've told me," Carol continued. "Rosie told me some things about herself, too. And all it showed me was that you're both hurt, and on a rocky road ta healing, an' if this living situation, or whatever it is, doesn't work out – you could both come out seriously scarred from it… You've _both_ been to that bottom. D'you really wanna open yourselves up for it _again_?"

 _I guess she's got a point, but what does she think I'm even capable of?_ Beth thought in frustration. _Daryl is his own man, he doesn't need anyone else. Let alone me. And if I get hurt – well, that's what I deserve._

"She's stronger than she thinks, no matter what she's told you," Daryl said, his voice low and rumbling again. "An' you ain't my _mommy_ , or Mal's, so I'd suggest ya stop actin' like ya are an' worry about yer _own_ goddamn private life."

Beth's heart skipped. Her eyes were wide as she listened, and the knot in her throat had grown larger.

Carol had begun to say something else but the sound of her voice was interrupted by the sound of the door to 3B opening. Beth whipped her head around and saw Tobin stepping out into the hall, his eyes immediately drawn to where she was standing. Without another thought, Beth stepped forward, trying her hardest to appear as though she'd just been walking up at the same time that Tobin had been opening the door.

"Oh – hey there," he greeted with a warm smile, closing the door behind him and pausing.

"Hey," Beth greeted quietly, briefly waving as she stopped at the door to 3A, taking a step back and pretending she'd just realized that it was open. She paused and peered inside, meeting Daryl's eyes and seeing the anger on his face. Then she saw Carol, who was opening the door wider and stepping out into the hall, finding herself coming face-to-face with Beth and giving her a look of surprise.

Carol paused in the doorway, in front of Beth, and started, "Oh – "

"Carol, you ready, hun?" Tobin called from where he stood by the door to 3B.

Carol looked across the hall to see Tobin and smiled stiffly, then looked back at Beth for a second and nodded in acknowledgment before stepping around her and crossing to the hallway. Beth nodded back but didn't say anything. She could've sworn she saw the lightest tint of pink appearing in Carol's cheeks.

Beth turned her head to watch the older woman join Tobin and follow him inside apartment 3B, shutting the door behind them. Then she turned back to see Daryl still standing in the same spot, gazing down at his socks and biting his thumbnail thoughtfully. His brow was furrowed and his shoulders were hunched and tense. Beth entered the apartment and quietly shut the door behind her, stopping and gazing at him hesitantly.

"Everythin'… alright?" She asked, but her heart was still racing.

 _He's gonna realize Carol is probably right and tell me to leave,_ Beth thought. _Maybe it's for the better, though… Maybe it's what I need to give me a kick in the ass and a real reason to get out of the city._

"Yeah, 's fine," he said, straightening up a little and briefly glancing Beth up and down. "You eat already?"

 _So is he not going to tell me about what Carol said?_ Beth thought.

She nodded, studying him and trying to figure out what he was thinking. But it was a futile effort. "Yeah, we had lunch at the same place we went to last time. Did you guys eat?"

Daryl nodded and turned away, heading toward the couch and sitting down. Beth watched him curiously as he grabbed the remote and unmuted the TV, keeping the volume low. She hesitated where she stood.

"Where's Mal?" She asked quietly.

"Nappin'," Daryl replied, eyes set on the TV screen.

Beth didn't say anything. She turned and went to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her and changing her clothes after putting away the few things she'd taken with her. Maybe it was because she'd overheard half their conversation or maybe it was just that palpable, but she could feel the tension still hanging in the air.

She made a trip to the bathroom, stopping in the kitchen for a bottle of water, then plopped down on the couch, leaving a couple of cushions' worth of space between her and Daryl. He was still watching TV, but she could see him chewing on his bottom lip and thinking. He glanced at her but didn't say anything, so she looked to the TV and watched idly in silence.

After a couple of minutes, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through news articles, mostly to have something to keep her hands busy. There wasn't anything new pertaining to her and all the headlines seemed fairly boring today, but it kept her distracted from the heavy silence between her and Daryl. She decided it was better to leave him be and eventually, if he wanted to talk, he would. It was obvious to her that he was more dismayed than he was letting on, but she pretended to be oblivious. And finding out that she'd eavesdropped would only upset him more.

"What d'you wanna do fer supper?"

Daryl's low voice startled her and she looked up from her phone screen, lowering it to meet his eyes. He was looking over at her from where he sat a few feet away.

Beth shrugged. "Hadn't thought about it yet. What were you thinkin'?"

He looked back to the TV screen and sighed. "I dunno… Think Mal said somethin' about wantin' green beans. But I don't think I got any."

"Oh," she said quietly, watching him and unsure of what else to say. He certainly sounded calmer, but she knew his conversation with Carol was probably still nagging at the back of his mind.

Daryl stared thoughtfully at the TV screen and Beth could tell he wasn't really watching. Her eyes drifted back down to the phone in her hands, a few more moments of silence passing.

"You feelin' alright? Didn't go too hard in class, did ya?" He asked, and she looked up to meet his eyes again. "Or afterwards…?"

She shook her head and gave him a reassuring smile, tucking her phone away. "No, I'm fine – an' I didn't do anything afterwards except eat. So…"

He nodded and said, "I – uh – was gonna see if ya wanted ta come have lunch at the park with us today." He was speaking hesitantly, quietly. "Not that it matters. Jus'…"

The guilt formed almost immediately in her stomach. She looked at him apologetically and said, "I didn't know – I'm sorry. Rosita an' everybody invited me to lunch with them at the beginning of class – did you guys go?"

He nodded. "Yeah, with Carol an' all them. That Tobin guy an' his kid."

Daryl didn't sound like he was upset or trying to guilt her for not coming along with them, but Beth still felt bad. She thought he might've been trying to hide his disappointment that she hadn't been there.

"How was it?" She asked.

He shrugged, briefly glancing at the TV screen. "It was cool. Mal had a blast."

She lifted an eyebrow. "And what d'you think of Tobin?"

Another shrug. "Seems cool. Carol likes him an' his kid ain't terrible, 's all that matters."

Beth nodded. "Yeah, he seems nice. Maybe I can go next time."

The faintest smile tugged at the corner of Daryl's lips and he mumbled, "Yeah, next time."

She watched him glance down at his hands for a moment, then back to her. He still seemed to be contemplating something.

The thoughtful expression didn't leave his face as he gazed into her eyes and hesitantly said, "I think people're startin' ta catch on…"

Beth furrowed her brow and for a split-second, there was a pulse of fear in her chest. She asked quietly, "Catch on ta what?"

Daryl raised his eyebrows briefly and gave her a meaningful look. "To… _us_ …"

Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed hard, cheeks growing warm. "Oh… yeah, I – I know."

He didn't have to study her face for long before he concluded, "Them too, huh?"

Beth nodded, pursing her lips. To her relief, he didn't seem upset or even really surprised. She spoke quietly, "That's… why I left with 'em. I think they kinda saw some stuff during class an'… I dunno. I didn't wanna make it too obvious. But…"

"So what'd they say?" Daryl asked softly, his eyes urging her to go on.

She shrugged and glanced away for a second, thinking back on her awkward moment in the spotlight at lunch. "Uh – not much. They just… can't seem to believe it, I guess? I didn't know if you wanted anyone t'know, so – "

"Ain't really anybody's business, but it ain't a _secret_ ," He interrupted her, furrowing his brow. He paused, then asked uncertainly, "Is it…?"

Beth couldn't help but feel guilty as she gazed back into his eyes and saw the ambiguity there. She shook her head slowly and said, "Not really..."

Daryl appeared slightly relieved, then asked, "Why couldn't they believe it? They think I'm gay or somethin'?"

She chuckled softly and he half-smiled in reaction. Beth shook her head. "No, I – well, I dunno really. I guess they jus' think you're really… _careful_ about… who you let into your life. An' we've only known each other like, less than three weeks…"

He furrowed his brow, looking at her incredulously. "Yeah, so?"

She shrugged, cheeks growing warm again. "Well, you know how they are… somethin' about, um… rebounding, I guess…"

Daryl grunted and chewed his bottom lip, watching Beth thoughtfully. She licked her lips and glanced away briefly.

" _Rebound_ , huh?" He rumbled, still studying her.

She nodded and met his eyes hesitantly. "I didn't… tell 'em anything about us, though…"

He furrowed his brow and it wasn't the reaction she'd been hoping for, or expecting. She couldn't figure out what was going on in his head during the long pause, until he asked, "What – you ashamed of it? Of me?"

Beth paused and studied his face, assuring herself he was serious. There was a shadow of disillusionment in his eyes as he waited for her response, and she shook her head, giving him an incredulous look. "What? No, of course not."

Daryl's expression relaxed a little and he asked, "Then why's it matter?"

She shrugged. "I dunno – it doesn't, I guess. I jus'… You said you ain't _got_ friends. So if they're not your friends, I didn't think you'd want them knowin'…"

He grunted, like a lazy chuckle. " _Ain't_ my friends – they're family. Don't mean I always care what they think, but I ain't got nothin' ta hide from 'em."

Beth swallowed but didn't look away from his eyes. She nodded slowly and said quietly, "Me either."

A lie. But she couldn't think about that right now.

He raised his eyebrows, looking at her expectantly. He glanced down at his lap for a moment, then back up to her eyes. Then he asked, "That what it is, then? A rebound thing?"

She hesitated, though she'd tried not to. Her voice almost cracked. "I don't think so..."

Daryl watched her, studying her face long after the words had left her mouth. His eyes slowly softened and he said quietly, "Me either."

Beth smiled weakly and he returned it, then glanced over his shoulder toward the hallway. She watched him quizzically at first, quickly realizing that he was checking for signs of Malachi before turning back to her and scooting over across the cushions that separated them. Beth's legs were up on the couch, knees close to her chest, and Daryl grabbed her legs and placed them over his lap, relaxing into the cushion next to her. They both seemed to grow more comfortable now that they were close to each other.

He looked ahead at the TV screen, but she could see his mind working behind his eyes, still mulling over something. She could guess what it was, but she didn't want to be the one to address it first. Instead, she watched him as he eventually looked back over at her, his hands resting on her knees.

"Only one I'm worried about findin' out is the kid," He said quietly, watching her face for a reaction.

Beth nodded in understanding and he appeared slightly relieved. "I know… He, um… Carol kinda talked to me about that…"

Daryl furrowed his brow. "She did?"

She nodded again. "Yeah… I'm tryin' ta be careful, but – "

"She ain't got no business talkin' t'you about it – ain't her place," He rumbled. "Knew she would, though… She can be nosey sometimes."

Beth shrugged. "I understand why – she's your family, too."

He looked away from her briefly, contemplation on his face. She watched him, waiting.

He finally met her gaze again and said, "I gotta ask you somethin'."

Her muscles tensed up and she raised her eyebrows. "Yeah?"

Daryl licked his lips and parted them, then hesitated and closed them again. His fingers were fidgeting with a piece of thread on her pant leg. She could see him swallowing and mulling over his words another second, then he opened his mouth and asked, "Can you stay? Jus'… fer a while. Till we can… figure somethin' out."

The words he hadn't spoken were evident on his face, and she could almost hear them from inside his head: _"…till we can figure out what_ _ **we**_ _are."_ Beth swallowed past a painful knot in her throat and she fought back the tears that were threatening to pool in her eyes. She didn't look away from him, his eyes watching her and waiting patiently… hopefully.

It seemed like a simple question, but she knew it meant much more than that – to both of them. She couldn't bring herself to say no, to disappoint him or make him think for another second that she might be ashamed of him. Besides, where else did she have to go? At this point, she was probably safer here than anywhere else. She could still lay low, could still have some semblance of normalcy in her life. But most of all, she'd get more time with Daryl and Malachi.

 _And when Jesus shows up with your paperwork and tells you to get out of the country… then what?_ That annoying voice at the back of her mind asked.

 _We'll figure something out,_ Beth told herself, taking comfort in Daryl's words, in his certainty when he spoke them.

She nodded and softly replied, "Yeah…"

Daryl half-smiled, obviously relieved. Then he said quietly, "Maybe we wait ta tell Mal fer… a bit."

He didn't explain why but Beth didn't need any reasons. She wasn't sure the two of them were prepared to explain to a three-year-old what their situation meant. If it meant anything. Maybe they weren't even prepared to explain it to each other. She nodded in understanding.

He glanced at her lips then back at her eyes. They gazed at each other thoughtfully for a second, both of them seemingly waiting to see if the other had anything else to say. When neither of them spoke, Daryl leaned in hesitantly and she followed his cue until they were closing the distance between them. She closed her eyes and felt his lips on hers, his stubble on her chin, as they kissed softly.

 _Maybe somewhere between now and later, I can tell him the truth,_ she thought as her stomach fluttered and their kiss deepened. _Maybe he and Mal can come with me – we can run away together. Or maybe I can stay, somehow, settle down somewhere with them, change my name… I couldn't keep it from him forever, but… Maybe he'd understand why I had to lie, or…_

But then that other voice piped in, _Or maybe he'll be disgusted and appalled by the fact that you not only lied, but that you're a murderer and your entire family made their living by producing the kind of drugs he left Georgia to get away from… You are everything he was running away from. He wouldn't want anything to do with you, and you'd be lucky if he didn't call the cops on you._

Beth wrapped an arm around Daryl's neck and leaned into him closer, kissed him harder. She shoved away all the nagging voices and incessant thoughts in her head.

 _We'll figure it out later,_ she told herself. _We'll figure_ _ **something**_ _out._

* * *

Malachi awoke from his nap about a half-hour later, barreling down the hallway with newfound energy. It gave Beth and Daryl ample time to pull apart on the couch, and Beth was somewhat grateful because if they'd continued their heavy make-out session any longer, she was going to start getting ideas – even though she had at least another week-and-a-half before she could be _acting_ on those ideas. And judging from the awkward way Daryl resituated himself on the couch when he scooted over, he was fighting off similar urges.

Mal was elated to see "Rosie" and excitedly told her about having lunch at the park. Beth listened intently to his story, asking him about what he'd seen and what he'd thought. She could see Daryl watching them from the corner of her eye, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The toddler went on and on about Carol and Tobin, asking Daryl at one point if he would be Sophia's new dad. Daryl tried to laugh off the question and gave Mal a mumbled, "I'ono, man." But Beth could see the tiny lines of worry creasing Daryl's forehead. She quickly changed the subject and got Mal on to a whole new story about his day.

It seemed the toddler hadn't forgotten about his desire for green beans, because after several minutes of rambling, he asked what they were having for dinner. Daryl shrugged and looked to Beth, who put up her hands in a clueless expression.

"Let's just – le's go t'the um, the store," Malachi said, his tiny fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he looked from Daryl to Beth and back.

Daryl smirked and glanced over at Beth with raised eyebrows. "Jus' fer green beans, huh?"

Beth shrugged and smiled. "The heart wants what the heart wants."

He chuckled and shook his head. "S'pose it's just down the street… Alright, go get yer shoes on, kid. But we're gettin' somethin' more than just _green_ _beans_."

Malachi's face lit up with excitement and he rushed off to the bedroom to get his shoes. Daryl stood up from the couch and looked to Beth.

"Wanna come?" He asked casually.

Without a second thought, she smiled and nodded. "Yeah – lemme get some shoes on."

A few minutes later, Daryl, Malachi, and Beth were all heading down the stairs together. Beth had stuffed a couple bills into her pocket on the way out of her bedroom, and Daryl was wearing the angel wings vest over his long-sleeved T-shirt. Malachi had put on his velcro-strapped shoes, shiny pictures of Ant-Man on either side of each shoe.

As they stepped out onto the sidewalk into the late afternoon light of the city, Beth slipped on her sunglasses and walked close to the boys, her arm bumping Daryl's every now and then. He was holding Malachi's hand while they walked, keeping the toddler close as they passed other people and traffic whizzed past them on the street. A bicyclist passed by mere feet away from them at one point, eliciting an excited point and shout from Mal. Beth glanced around at the bustling city that surrounded her and somehow, she felt safe. In a way, it felt like another home. A new home.

Or maybe it was the people she was with.

They only had to walk about a block before they turned the corner and approached a business front to the left. It was a Trader Joe's, its long, horizontal windows in the front displaying a clean inside with plenty of displays for sales. The business front stretched down nearly half the block, situated at the bottom of a much taller building that looked to be full of apartments or offices. There were people walking in and out of the glass front door, and as they approached, Beth realized she wasn't sure what to expect because she'd never been inside this particular chain store.

Daryl opened the door and held it for Beth to walk through, closely followed by Mal and then Daryl. The inside was even larger than it appeared from the outside, stretching out into a vast grocery store with several aisles and shelves stacked full of goods. There was a lot of green everywhere, and Beth noticed that nearly everything was either "natural" or "non-GMO" or some other variant of unprocessed. Malachi almost immediately yanked his dad's hand toward the stack of handbaskets near the front door, and Daryl helped him pull one out and slip the handles over his small arm.

"Think you can handle that kinda responsibility?" Daryl asked as he gestured for the toddler to keep close to him while also focusing on holding the basket.

Mal nodded, looking around with wide eyes and trying to see everything, his head on a constant swivel. "Dad, I can do basket duty."

Beth chuckled, trailing close behind Daryl and Mal. Daryl glanced back at her with a half-smile and rolled his eyes playfully.

She tried to keep her eyes on the boys, but she kept her sunglasses on and searched the ceilings for cameras in her peripherals. Daryl was glancing at her regularly, though, and Carol's words from earlier were still echoing in her head, so she tried to be more discreet. Or maybe she should've tried to be less paranoid. She couldn't really decide at the moment, but she knew Daryl was more observant than he let on, and she didn't want to make him think she was even more damaged, or mentally unstable, than had already been made obvious. Nor did she want him to start having any other doubts – she still didn't know _everything_ Carol had said to him. What if she'd raised red flags for Daryl that Beth hadn't ever thought would be risen?

The trio found their way to the bread aisle while Daryl mumbled something about needing a few things for breakfast in the morning. Beth glanced around curiously, looking at displays and gazing at other shoppers. Everyone seemed to be going about their business, paying Beth no mind. She felt like she blended in a bit better when she was accompanied by the boys – maybe they even looked like a little family to strangers on the street. She found herself content with that thought.

Malachi was the typical toddler inside the store, though he was better behaved than a lot of children Beth had observed in grocery stores. He ran everywhere, full of excitement and questions. He reached out and touched everything he could, especially when his dad's back was turned. And though the handbasket he carried around was nearly half his size, he was determined to keep it balanced and on his arms while Daryl carefully placed bread and peanut butter inside. He nearly ran into a couple other shoppers, his tiny legs carrying him around faster than his eyes could observe. Daryl apologized to the strangers sheepishly and pulled his son in closer while Beth stood close to Daryl's side and watched with amusement.

After a brief visit to the refrigerated wall that held various cartons of eggs, the trio headed to the frozen foods aisle. Daryl found the section that held vegetables and stood in front of the doors, inspecting the display behind the glass with a thoughtful look on his face. Malachi was pacing a few feet away, eyeballing a small ice cream display with wide eyes.

"Well, shit," Daryl mumbled, turning his head and looking to Beth. "Spot fer green beans is empty – wonder if they got any in the back."

Beth shrugged. "Maybe they have fresh ones in the produce department…?"

Daryl paused, then said, "I ain't really tryna' do all that – I'm jus' gonna go ask somebody ta check fer more. I can't be the only one who wants green beans tonight."

"Alright – I think I saw an employee a couple aisles over," Beth suggested.

Daryl nodded and briefly glanced back at Malachi, who was pressing his nose to the glass door and staring longingly at a box of popsicles. The handbasket of groceries was sitting on the floor next to him.

"Think you can keep an eye on him fer a second?" Daryl asked, gesturing to the toddler. "It'll be faster if y'all wait here."

Beth nodded. "Yeah, we'll wait here."

She paused and glanced at Malachi, then lowered her voice and asked Daryl, "Can I get him some ice cream…?"

Daryl smirked. "Sure – no popsicles, though. Most of 'em got those dyes in 'em. An' no citrus – "

"I know," Beth stopped him with a knowing smile, raising her eyebrows. "You told me. I wouldn't forget what he's allergic to."

Daryl seemed a bit taken aback but quickly shrugged it off and nodded. "Alrigh' – be back in a second."

He ruffled Mal's hair and told him to stay put for a minute, then quickly walked off to the end of the aisle and turned the corner in search of an employee. Beth kept her eye on Malachi, watching him wander down the aisle as he gazed through the glass doors at all the frozen foods.

"You wanna pick out some ice cream?" Beth asked cheerfully. "If you eat all your dinner, we can have it for dessert."

Mal's eyes grew wide and he looked at Beth with an excited grin. "Really?! Can – um, can we get pot-sickles?"

"Oh – no, we have ta get ice cream, not popsicles," Beth said, feeling a touch of sympathy for the toddler. His face fell with disappointment so she quickly added, "But we can get _any_ ice cream you want – let's pick one out!"

He quickly smiled again and rushed to a nearby freezer door, grabbing the handle and pulling it open. He grabbed a carton of ice cream and Beth approached him as he turned around to show it to her. She took it from his hands and inspected the label.

"Don't you want chocolate or somethin'?" She asked with a curious smile, turning the carton over in her hands and squinting down at the ingredients list. It was some sort of fruit-flavored ice cream and she wasn't sure if it contained something that Mal would be allergic to. She couldn't quite read through the sunglasses, though, so she slipped them off and rested them atop her head as she continued to read the ice cream's label.

"Um – how um, how about this one?" Mal asked, having already opened another door and reached inside to grab a carton.

As he let the door shut and stepped away to look inside the next door, Beth stepped forward and quickly grabbed it from his hand – another fruit mixture. She turned it over to inspect the label, finding herself with a carton of ice cream in each hand as she struggled to search for allergens in their ingredients. Then she heard the telltale sounds of another customer strolling down the aisle with their cart, just behind her. She remembered the handbasket of groceries sitting on the floor and turned around, spotting an older woman standing a few feet back and gazing at the frozen vegetables while Beth and Daryl's basket of groceries sat just in front of her.

"Oh – I'm sorry," Beth apologized, tucking both ice cream cartons under her arm as she rushed over and grabbed the basket by its handles, lifting it up and sliding it over her free arm.

"No problem," the old woman smiled, watching Beth take the basket out of her way and turn around before stepping closer to the freezer door.

But when Beth turned around, Malachi was gone.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Ever lost a toddler in a store? That shit's terrifying. Next chapter will have lots of domestic fluff, so I can assure you that you have that to look forward to :D  
This chapter and last chapter's titles were taken from the song "Why It Scares Me" by La Dispute & Touche Amore - an absolutely perfectly fitting song to this fic.  
Let me know what you thought of this chapter in the reviews and thank you for reading! :)


	42. i got nothing to do but be with you

**Warning:** the last half of this chapter contains explicit sexual content.

* * *

 _ **i got nothing to do but be with you**_

"Wha – Mal? _Mal_?!" Beth said, her voice rising as the panic bloomed inside her chest. She rushed to the end of the aisle, looking both ways and searching for the toddler. "Malachi!"

She listened for him, stepping out and checking down the next aisle, then the next. Her heart was racing and she'd tossed the cartons of ice cream into the handbasket hanging from her arm, whipping her head back and forth as she desperately searched for the little blond boy.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh no, Daryl will be back any second,_ Beth thought, panicking and turning around to check the aisles in the opposite direction. There were a few other shoppers, but none of them seemed to be paying attention to her and there was no sign of Malachi. She was nearly five aisles away from the frozen foods section when she spotted another little kid standing at the end of the baking aisle about thirty feet away.

 _Maybe that kid saw Mal,_ she thought, rushing toward the child.

Before she could get close to the kid, though, Daryl's voice caught her attention and she turned back to see him standing at the end of the frozen foods aisle, staring at her quizzically with his hands held out. As soon as she'd paused and he could see that Mal wasn't with her, he quickly walked over to her.

"Where's Mal?" He asked, glancing around.

Beth's voice expressed the panic she was feeling as she replied, "I – I don't know, he ran off and – "

"What?!" Daryl cried. His face completely changed and he immediately stepped away from Beth to glance over her shoulder and look around wildly while calling his son's name. "Where – where'd you last see him? Mal?! _Malachi_!"

Beth's mouth had gone completely dry and the panic had turned to icy fear in her veins. "I – he was _right_ there! We were lookin' at ice cream an' I turned around for _two_ _seconds_ , I turned back and he was just _gone_!"

"Jesus Christ – go find an employee while I look for him," Daryl ordered, eyes wild as he continued looking around in every direction, stepping away and checking down aisles. "Tell 'em my fuckin' kid's missing – _hurry_!"

Beth nodded and turned to race off toward the front of the store, but before she could get more than twenty feet away, she heard Daryl's voice again.

" _Mala_ – oh, Jesus fuckin' Christ, _there_ you are!"

She turned back and saw Daryl rushing toward the direction of the baking aisle, where Beth had seen the other kid. She picked up her pace and followed him, spotting Malachi emerging from the aisle with a grin on his face. Daryl reached him within seconds and swooped him up in his arms, picking him up as Beth approached them from behind.

Malachi looked unfazed, completely unaware of the panic he'd caused as he began excitedly talking to his father. "Dad! I – we found – "

"Why'd you run off like that?!" Daryl asked, but the relief was obvious in his voice. "I 'bout had a damn heart attack, boy!"

Mal looked surprised, eyes growing wide. "What – I'm sorry, Dad, I jus' – "

The middle-aged woman that had been standing toward the end of the baking aisle with her child appeared a bit confused but smiled politely. "There's your dad! Sorry, hun, he came outta nowhere over here. I think he saw my son and wanted to play – he's quite the talker!"

The lady's child looked to be a couple years older than Mal, and he stood at his mother's side with a toy in his hand, watching the exchange curiously while grinning at Malachi.

Daryl sighed in relief. "'S alright – sorry 'bout that, he slipped away when we had our backs turned. I was about a second away from askin' 'em ta lockdown the store."

The woman chuckled understandingly and put a hand softly on her son's shoulder. "No problem, I know how kids can be! This one's done that to me more times than I can count."

"Thanks again," Daryl muttered, turning and stepping away with Malachi still in his arms.

Beth watched silently and stepped back when he turned around, moving out of his way as he headed back in the direction of the frozen foods aisle before she followed. They rounded a corner and walked in silence for a moment, Mal babbling on about what he'd run off for as he forgot about the panic he'd caused his dad.

When they'd gotten out of earshot of any other customers, Daryl turned to face Beth and gently put Malachi down on the floor, grabbing his hand and keeping him close. He looked at Beth with a stern expression on his face and she could still traces of anger smoldering in his dark blue eyes.

Before he could say anything, she started, "Daryl, I'm so sorry, I swear I didn't – "

But he cut her off, snapping, "You can't take yer eyes off this kid fer even a _second_ , let alone two. You understand me? A kid got snatched up jus' two _blocks_ from here last week an' they didn't find his body till _yesterday_ – that coulda been _my_ kid."

Beth's heart dropped to the very bottom of her stomach and she swallowed hard past a painful knot in her throat. She nodded, speechless as she stared up into Daryl's furious gaze with wide eyes. His voice was tense and restrained and she didn't think she'd ever seen him this upset before. It was different from the anger she'd seen on the night of Rosita's party because she could see the fear mixed in, and it only made her feel even worse. But she knew that he was completely right to be so upset, and she could do nothing but apologize and feel horrible about it.

Malachi wasn't paying any attention to the adults' conversation and pulled on his dad's hand. "C'mon, Dad – let's get gween beans!"

Daryl nodded to his son and Beth muttered weakly, "I'm sorry…"

He pursed his lips and nodded, eyebrows raised in a stern expression while his eyes lingered on Beth's for a second. Then he turned and let Mal lead him out of the aisle and away. Beth followed a couple feet behind, the handbasket still hanging from her arm. Her hands were still trembling and she focused on trying to steady them and slow her racing heart.

The boys led the way toward the produce section, where they went to a refrigerated shelf stacked full with all different kinds of green vegetables. Beth stood back and watched as Daryl grabbed a plastic bag and opened it, then held it out and instructed Mal to grab handfuls of fresh green beans and place them inside the bag. The toddler did so, struggling to grasp the beans and keep them from falling to the floor. Daryl chuckled and helped him while Beth watched with a faint smile, her heartbeat returning to normal. The guilt had settled heavily in her gut.

They picked out a couple of other vegetables and fruits, then found their way to the dairy aisle to grab some more butter, then to the meat department, where Daryl inspected various packages of raw chicken before deciding on a suitable choice and handing it to Beth to place in the basket. Then they picked up a couple other seasonings from a nearby aisle and headed toward the checkout.

Beth kept her mouth closed the entire time, standing back and observing Daryl and Malachi together as they shopped and Daryl answered several of Mal's questions about food, the store, and price tags. Beth hadn't even realized that Mal was learning to read until she saw him pointing to a sign and slowly sounding out the word "apple" aloud to his father. She refrained from asking any questions, though, or engaging with the toddler. For now, she felt that Daryl would be better off if she pretended to be invisible. Mal, too, for that matter.

On their way to check out, Daryl stopped in the ice cream aisle and gestured for Beth to step closer. She did and he reached into the basket to pull out the two cartons of ice cream she'd tossed inside earlier, placing them back inside one of the freezers wordlessly. Then he grabbed a different carton and placed it in the basket before turning and leading Mal out of the aisle. Beth followed, looking into the basket to see a container of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream made by a natural foods company. She remained quiet and followed the boys to the end of one of the lines at the check stands.

When it came time to pay, she pulled out one of the bills she'd brought along and handed it over the counter to the cashier before Daryl could open his wallet. While the cashier counted out the change, Beth gave Daryl a weak smile, but he didn't look exactly pleased. He stuffed his wallet back into his pocket and mumbled, "Didn't have ta do that, but thanks."

They left the store in silence – or rather, Beth and Daryl were in silence. Malachi continued to jabber on, asking questions and telling stories and generally talking just to talk while he carried one of the paper bags from the store. But Beth remained silent as she trailed a foot or two behind the boys on the sidewalk, and Daryl answered his son's questions and made comments about his stories without saying a word to Beth. She did, however, notice that he was still glancing back at her every couple of minutes, as if he were making sure she was still there. She pretended not to notice and kept her head low, sunglasses over her eyes and gaze set on the sidewalk and buildings up ahead.

The sun was nearing the horizon when they reached the apartment building, the breeze blowing colder and the sky transitioning to a purplish-blue. They passed through the lobby, empty and quiet, and climbed the stairs. Daryl didn't let go of Malachi's hand until they'd reached the door to apartment 3A and he was pulling the keys from his pocket, paper bag dangling from his wrist. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside for Mal and Beth to enter the apartment before he trailed in behind them.

"Alright, boy, you'll get yer green beans," Daryl announced as he took the bag from Mal's hand and set it on the counter along with the one he'd been carrying. "How's some a that good ol' southern fried chicken sound?"

Malachi's face lit up and he did a little happy dance, eliciting a chuckle from Beth as she stood by and watched. It felt like being back in the apartment had lightened the tension and she could see Daryl relaxing again as he watched his son with a small smile. Then he glanced at Beth, his eyebrows raised expectantly. She gave him a quizzical look, the guilt from earlier still twinging in her gut.

"Sound good?" He asked her.

Her heart did the smallest jump and she nodded. "Yeah, sounds great."

He nodded in affirmation and turned back to the bags on the counter, setting about pulling the groceries out and putting them away in the fridge and cabinets. Mal rushed off to the bedroom, disappearing without another word.

Beth stood awkwardly in the hall for a moment, watching Daryl put groceries away and pull out ingredients for dinner. She turned to head down the hall and see what Mal was up to when Daryl's voice made her stop.

"Hey."

She turned back to the kitchen and stepped up to the threshold, looking at Daryl expectantly. She felt more nervous than usual around him, still unsure of how angry he was from earlier. She didn't blame him, though – she was angry at herself, too. She still couldn't believe she'd made such a mistake and put Daryl's son at risk like that.

"Sorry – fer blowin' up on ya like that," he muttered, glancing at her eyes and looking away quickly to focus on what he was doing at the counter. But she could hear the remorse in his voice. "Well, I mean, I _ain't_ sorry fer gettin' mad. But I didn't mean ta make ya feel so shitty – I know it was a mistake. 'S not like I never had him run off on me in public before… It's just some scary shit. Sets me off."

Beth shrugged, staring at the profile of Daryl's face as she spoke. "No need to apologize… I need t'work on remembering that I'm in a big city now. I'm sorry, again. I really am. I didn't – "

He interrupted her, shaking his head, "Stop apologizin'. I know what it's like. Got mugged about four times after the firs' year I moved 'fore I realized how _different_ things are up here… It's somethin' else. Takes a while ta get used to."

Beth nodded, pursing her lips and swallowing back another instinctive apology. "Still… you had every right t'be mad. I know there's… lotsa bad people out there nowadays. He's your kid, of course you'd be upset."

 _And scared,_ she wanted to say. But she got the sense that he'd be offended if she suggested that he felt fearful. And the last thing she wanted to do right now was make him angry again.

Daryl shrugged at her words but his indifference was transparent. He waited a few seconds before muttering, "I shouldn'ta left him with ya in the first place. He's not yer responsibility – that's my bad."

Beth furrowed her brow and frowned. "It ain't – I can _handle_ watchin' a toddler for short periods of time. It was just an accident."

Daryl started, "I know, but he ain't yours – "

She cut him off, "That doesn't mean I care about him any less than if he were…"

She could see him pursing his lips and glancing at her, then looking back down at the chicken in front of him thoughtfully while he worked. He seemed to be trying to decide if he should believe her or not. He mumbled quietly, "S'pose…"

Beth didn't say anything else, waiting to see if he had anything else to say about it. But apparently, he didn't. She hoped he understood that just because Malachi wasn't hers didn't mean she was going to get careless with him. What kind of person did he really think she was?

Or maybe this was one of his ways of figuring that out for certain. She decided not to press the matter and left the silence hanging between them.

She watched him work for another moment or two before she asked softly, "You want some help makin' supper?"

He looked over at her. "I think I got it. Unless you got a better recipe fer fried chicken than me."

She smirked and approached him, gazing down at the ingredients he had laid out on the counter. "I might – you put paprika in the breading, right?"

He grunted in a half-chuckle. "'Course. An' lots of other seasonings. My momma's recipe."

Beth smiled. "Well then, I can't wait ta try it – maybe I'll make _my_ momma's recipe next time."

He glanced at her with a small smile. "I'll hold ya to it. Can't wait ta compare our mommas' cooking."

She giggled and nodded, then spotted the bag of green beans sitting at the other end of the counter. "Want some help snappin' the green beans?"

Daryl shrugged. "If ya want."

An idea popped into her head and she smiled again. "You ever taught Mal how ta destem green beans?"

He shook his head. "Nah, kid's got the attention span of a goldfish. Carol usually has better luck with stuff like that."

Beth chuckled. "I don't doubt it. But maybe I can try t'show him."

Before Daryl could say anything else, she turned and headed out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into the bedroom at the end. She found Malachi sitting on his side of the bedroom floor, playing with his toys while he was lost in his own little world. He looked up to see Beth and grinned.

"Rosie!" The toddler exclaimed, a small action figure clutched in each hand.

"Hey, whatcha doin'?" Beth asked cheerfully, squatting down on the carpet beside Mal until she was resting on her knees and looking over the large scene of toys he'd set up.

"Oh, I – this is the, this is the bad guys and – and, um, these is the good guys," Mal explained excitedly, pointing to various toys and explaining his imaginative storylines for them.

Beth leaned in close and listened attentively, inspecting each toy closely and nodding along to Mal's words. She pointed to a blonde Barbie doll set up on the far edge of the gathering of toys. The Barbie was sitting next to an action figure that looked like one of the characters from the zombie show Daryl liked to watch. "And who is this?"

Mal's eyes lit up and he pointed to the Barbie and the action figure, as well as a small Lego man that was sitting between them, with two other toys still clutched in his tiny fists as he tripped over his words and tried to explain. "That – oh, that's um, that – okay, this is you, an' that's Dad – oh, and this is _me_!"

Beth's smile faded and she furrowed her brow, watching as Mal set down the toys in his hand and petted the blonde hair of the Barbie doll affectionately with a grin on his face. Then she asked, "Oh – it is?"

The toddler nodded happily and pointed to the action figures and dolls surrounding "Rosie" and "Daryl" and "Malachi." He went on to say, "Yeah! And – and these is all the bad guys. Well, okay, there's this one, an' he's good, an' this one is um, he's uh – that one's a good guy, too. But all these are bad guys an' they – they're twyin' ta take you away. But me an' Dad won't let 'em!"

Then he set down the toys in his hand and grabbed another Barbie that was sitting on the edge of the gathering of action figures to hold it up and show Beth. "And this – this is, um, this one's Carol, an' she's helpin' us um, she's helpin' puh – pwo…"

Beth watched as his big, blue eyes squinted in concentration and he stared at the doll in his hand, struggling with the word he was trying to pronounce. She quickly realized what he was trying to say and suggested, "Protect…?"

"Yeah!" Mal grinned, eyes lighting up again. "She's helpin' pwuh-teck you!"

Beth wasn't sure why but dread blossomed in her stomach and she nodded, keeping a smile on her face as she gazed at the toddler thoughtfully. She spotted another action figure that seemed out of place, set a few inches from where the Barbie had been.

"And who's that?" She asked curiously, pointing to the action figure.

Mal looked over at the toy and his grin seemed to falter. His voice was less excited as he replied, "Oh – he's a bad guy. A _real_ bad guy. We have ta keep you from him."

Beth raised her eyebrows in intrigue and decided not to ask any more questions. It was obvious that Malachi had a wild imagination. She smiled again and listened as he explained a few other dolls' roles in his little play, then grew distracted and began playing out his fantasies once more.

"Hey – you wanna help me an' Dad make dinner?" She suggested, watching as he looked up at her with a newfound spark of interest and excitement. "You ever taken the stems off green beans before?"

Mal shook his head, eyes wide. "No – can we um, can we do that?! Me an' Carol, we um, we snapped peas this one time."

She chuckled and nodded. "Okay, it's kinda like that! C'mon, let's go! I'll teach you how."

With a big grin on his face, the toddler dropped his toys and immediately forgot about whatever imaginary scene he'd been playing out. He jumped up and followed Beth out the bedroom door, down the hall and back to the kitchen, where Daryl was rinsing green beans in the sink.

"Dad, we're gonna help you!" Mal announced as he rushed up behind his father excitedly.

Daryl looked over his shoulder and down at his son, hands wet with chicken juices. "You are?"

Mal nodded, grinning.

Beth proceeded to collect the rinsed green beans from the sink and grab the trash can, leaning down and showing Mal how to snap the stems off each individual green bean. He picked up quick and within minutes, they had a pile of destemmed green beans on the counter. Malachi giggled and fidgeted in place as Beth cracked jokes and playfully grabbed beans from his hands. From the corner of her eye, she saw Daryl moving from the counter to the stove to prepare the pan with cooking oil and glancing at them as he did so. She thought she'd caught a small smile of amusement on his face before he turned his gaze back toward the chicken.

Mal thoroughly enjoyed helping Beth prepare the vegetables, and when they were done, she led him out to the living room and grabbed some of his toys to keep his attention while Daryl fried the chicken and cooked up the green beans. The smells of food quickly filled the small apartment and Beth opened one of the windows in the living room to let in the cool, evening breeze. The sky was darkening outside as the sun dipped behind the horizon, but the city was still plenty alive with lights and noise.

Beth sat with Mal and played while Daryl cooked, listening to the toddler's extravagant stories and going along with his imaginative plots. She hadn't realized how much time passed until Daryl was announcing that dinner was almost ready. She took that as her cue to begin setting the table, and Mal was more than eager to help. Before long, the three of them were sitting in their usual chairs at the table, plates full of fried chicken, green beans, and rolls sitting before them.

Mal provided the entertainment, as he normally did, while Beth and Daryl ate and tried to encourage him to feed himself in a somewhat neat manner. Beth made sure to compliment Daryl's momma's fried chicken recipe and he smiled sheepishly in response right before taking another large bite of the chicken breast in his hands. The apartment was full of delicious smells and the sounds of laughter and clinking silverware. When they finished their meals, Daryl scooped out three small bowls of ice cream and they had another battle with Mal and his spoon. Beth found herself laughing between bites of ice cream, and something about it felt normal. In a way, she felt like she was enjoying something as much as she could while she had it. All the guilt, worry, and dread that had been knotting up inside Beth's gut seemed to evaporate. For the evening, she was fine with pretending that the world outside of this little apartment with Daryl and Malachi didn't exist.

By the time they'd finished eating dessert and cleaning up, it was nearly Mal's bedtime. Daryl asked how he wanted to spend the rest of the evening, as he had several choices between reading, watching TV, or playing. But the toddler seemed to already have an idea in mind and gleefully requested that "Rosie" play her "guh-tar" for them. And with two pairs of soft, blue eyes looking to her expectantly, how could Beth say no?

She sat on the couch and played guitar while Daryl sat a few feet away and Malachi danced around the living room and sang with her. Daryl mostly sat back and watched with an amused half-smile, sipping a small glass of whiskey and occasionally nodding his head along to the music. Mal requested a handful of kids' songs and luckily, Beth knew all of them. Then she played a few simple Beatles songs, all of which Mal surprisingly recognized (Daryl explained that was thanks to Carol). By the time the toddler (and Daryl) were suggesting she play " _Free Bird_ ," she was happy to oblige, if for no other reason than to get the catchy little kid songs out of her head. She assured the boys that this would be the first and only time she'd play the song for them, and that they'd better stop requesting it every time they caught sight of her guitar or else she wouldn't play the solo for them. Daryl laughed loudly at this and she felt her cheeks warming, a sheepish smile on her face.

"Yer tellin' me you planned on playin' the whole damn solo on that thing?" He asked, still smiling as he gestured to the guitar on her lap.

Beth raised her eyebrows at him, holding back a smile of her own as she replied, "Oh – I'm sorry, you think I can't?"

He chuckled and took a small sip of whiskey. "I'd be surprised if ya could, 's all I'm sayin'."

She smirked at him defiantly and positioned her fingers over the frets, keeping her eyes locked on his as she strummed and sang the first verse. He gave her a look that sent goosebumps down her legs, but then he was looking away and toward Malachi. The toddler danced along and clapped happily, singing the words he knew – which were a lot more than Beth would've expected from a toddler. Then again, she somehow wasn't surprised considering this was Daryl's kid.

When Beth got to the solo, she struggled a little and made a few small mistakes, and her memory was a bit foggy. She got through it, though, and found herself satisfied with how close it sounded to the actual song. And when she glanced over at Daryl, she thought he might've looked a little impressed. He continued to nod along, tapping his foot lightly on the carpet. Malachi's voice grew louder with the last chorus, and Beth sang out the final line with a big grin on her face that closely matched the toddler's.

"Gonna get the cops called on us, sounds like a concert in here," Daryl joked after the song had ended, a playful half-smile on his face.

Beth chuckled and shook her head, resting the guitar in her lap and stretching her fingers out. She'd be building up calluses in no time. She turned her head and met Daryl's eyes. "Well – _told_ ya I could do the solo."

He nodded. "Sure did. Guess ya proved me wrong."

She smiled and looked away, her cheeks growing warm again for some reason.

For the last two songs of the night, Beth chose a couple of her personal favorites – including her favorite song by Tom Waits… the song she'd taken her fake name from. As she strummed and sang, she glanced over and met Daryl's intense gaze, his eyes unwavering on her. Those goosebumps appeared down her legs again and Malachi's voice was a distant noise in the background as she sang and found it difficult to look away from Daryl.

For the briefest moment, she thought to herself, _I never thought I'd have to pretend for so long… Maybe I should tell him the truth. Before things get any more complicated._

But as quickly as it'd come, it fled her mind. Malachi got her attention again and she tore her gaze from Daryl's, watching the toddler dancing and laughing. She finished the song and laughed at the sight, Daryl's low chuckle coming from beside her.

A few moments later, Daryl let out a tired sigh and set his empty glass down on the coffee table, leaning forward. "Alrigh', kid, ya got about half an hour 'fore it's off ta bed."

Mal let out a little whine but a stern look from his dad quickly hushed him. The toddler heaved a defeated sigh and rolled his eyes, and Beth had to stifle a giggle and cover her mouth. Daryl shook his head.

"What d'ya wanna do till bed time?" He asked.

Mal shrugged. "Um, I think I'll jus' play. Oh – can you read me a bedtime story, Dad?"

"'Course, don't I always?" Daryl replied.

Mal grinned and turned around to race over to his toy box and begin playing on the carpet.

Beth stood from the couch and stretched, then took her guitar back to its spot in her bedroom. Daryl got up, too, and went to the kitchen for another small glass of whiskey. She returned to the couch and sat down, and he joined her a moment later, leaving about a foot of space between them on the cushions. While Mal played nearby, they sat and watched TV in silence. Daryl turned the volume up just enough to be heard over Mal's sound effects.

The half-hour seemed to pass just as quickly as dinner and dessert had for Beth. She and Daryl drifted closer on the couch, and he leaned over toward her rather indiscreetly. She felt his hand on hers while Mal had his back turned to them both and she glanced over to see Daryl's eyes focused on the TV. But there was a look on his face that she hadn't seen that often – something like contentment. His hand rested over hers and she silently intertwined her fingers with his. She could feel the slight dampness on his palms but she didn't care.

A few minutes later, Daryl was hesitantly pulling his hand from hers and sitting up to announce that it was officially bedtime. Surprisingly, Mal didn't whine, and he cleaned up his toys without any argument. The boys headed off to the bedroom at the end of the hall and Beth remained on the couch, putting her feet up and relaxing into the soft cushions. She watched TV at a low volume and listened to the faint sounds of Daryl's voice drifting down the hall as he told a story to his son.

He returned not much later, briefly lifting Beth's legs and plopping down in the spot beside her on the couch. She threw her legs back over his lap and continued watching TV while he leaned forward and grabbed his glass of whiskey.

"Is he asleep?" Beth asked, looking over at Daryl while commercials played.

He nodded. "Out like a light. Even with that late nap he took, today wore him out. Hopin' that means he won't wake up till mornin'."

She shrugged and looked at him thoughtfully. "D'you think he'd sleep better if you slept in your room…?"

He briefly gave her a quizzical gaze and said, "Don't think it really matters. Doctor said he's got night terrors an' they might not go away till he's older. I thought maybe sleepin' in the same room would help but… it ain't done much."

Beth raised her eyebrows curiously. "Oh – I didn't realize…"

Daryl shrugged. "Not that big a deal. Jus' gets hard on my back when I fall asleep in his bed, an' he takes up my whole damn mattress if I let him sleep with me. I'm just tired a wakin' up tired."

"Well, that sucks," she muttered, but he seemed pretty indifferent about it. She was relieved to learn that she wasn't intruding on the boys' sleeping situation quite as much as she'd been afraid she was.

He rested his head back into the couch and watched her silently for a moment, then mumbled, "Kinda helps havin' somebody ta sleep with… that ain't a bed hog…"

She couldn't help but smirk and blush lightly, shaking a strand of hair out of her eyes. She mumbled back, "Yeah. Me, too…"

Beth hadn't realized Daryl was leaning forward until their faces were suddenly inches apart and she could smell the familiar scent of leather, whiskey, and soap. She blinked and leaned forward to meet his lips, closing her eyes and breathing him in, tasting him. Her stomach fluttered and then flipped as he rested one hand on her thigh and slipped the other behind her neck, his palm warm against her skin. She shivered under his touch and silently cursed her reproductive organs as that old, incessant pressure began to build inside of her. Daryl's hands didn't wander, though, and their kiss deepened. He was slow and methodical in all his movements, and she felt like maybe he was relishing in the moment just like she was.

Their second couch make-out session of the day grew more and more heated and Beth wasn't sure how much time had passed, nor did she care. All she could focus on were Daryl's hands and mouth and the warmth of his body. As their lips became raw and swollen, she felt a poke in her leg and as much as Daryl tried to reposition himself and angle his body away, he couldn't seem to restrain it. She pretended not to notice and put all her efforts into making out, even though she was fighting her own urges, as well.

The show Beth had been idly watching on TV had ended and another show had been playing for a while when they finally broke away from each other, Daryl pulling back a couple of inches and gazing at Beth with hooded eyes.

"It ain't a big deal, but – how long till you're…?" He asked quietly, trailing off as he tried to decide how to phrase it.

"Till I'm healed?" She suggested.

He nodded. "What, like six weeks?"

She gave him a bewildered expression and replied, "Oh, _God_ , no. Only two – did you think it'd be _six_?"

Daryl shrugged lightly and rumbled, "I'ono, that's how long ya gotta wait after giving birth. I didn't know if it was similar, or…"

Beth nodded in understanding. "No, thankfully it's way shorter. But still… kinda feels like forever."

He scoffed. "Yer tellin' me…"

She smirked and glanced towards his lap meaningfully. "Yeah, I noticed…"

He blushed the slightest bit and shifted in his seat. "Tried ta resituate, but – "

Before he could finish, Beth had leaned in again and pressed her lips against his, silencing him. He didn't object, leaning into the kiss and eagerly grabbing the back of her neck to pick up where they'd left off.

A few more minutes of that and they paused so she could pull away and say, in a breathy whisper, "I kinda like doin' this, though."

He smirked coyly and pulled her mouth back to his, kissing her hungrily. Her heart did a flip inside her chest and she wrapped her arms tighter around him.

She couldn't help but think to herself, _He would've waited_ _ **six**_ _ **weeks**_ _? Jimmy wouldn't have even waited the full two…_

They spent the next half-hour wrapped up together on the couch, kissing on and off while mumbling quiet comments and jokes to each other. Then Daryl suggested they move to the bedroom and Beth agreed, tired from the long day and ready to sprawl out under the covers. They got up from the couch and turned off the TV, Daryl walking awkwardly as he tried to resituate himself again while Beth giggled quietly at the sight. He sighed and grabbed his whiskey glass to take it to the kitchen while she headed to her bedroom.

He shut off all the lights in the small apartment, except for the usual stove light, and entered her bedroom almost silently. She left the bedside lamp on and watched as he stripped down to his boxers and crawled into bed beside her. She was lying on her back with the blanket only covering her legs, having stripped down to nothing more than a thin tank top and stretchy short-shorts over her panties. He glanced over at her then quickly turned his head away and scoffed loudly.

" _What_?" Beth asked with a half-smile, recognizing the playful tone.

"I need a minute ta get rid a this thing – an' seein' you like _that_ ain't helpin'," Daryl mumbled.

She smiled wider and chuckled mischievously. "Huh, must be… pretty _hard_ ta deal with…"

She watched him shake his head before turning back around with a smirk on his face, sitting up and grabbing the comforter to lift it up to her neck. He gently held it there with two hands while she giggled in response.

"There – need ta cover all that up," Daryl rumbled, still smirking as he gazed down into her eyes.

Beth freed her arms from beneath the comforter and wrapped an arm around Daryl's middle, pulling him back down to lay with her. He chuckled and leaned in to plant another long, soft kiss on her lips. When he pulled away again to lie back down, she glanced at the spot where his neck met his shoulder and furrowed her brow, unsure of how she hadn't already noticed every little mark on his skin. Then again, a lot of their intimate interactions had taken place in the dark, and when she was that close to him, her eyes were usually closed or she was focused on something else entirely.

She rolled over on her side to face him and he turned his head toward her. She reached a hand out and traced a finger along the spot on the bottom of the left side of his neck, where a tiny, black 'X' was tattooed in the small valley of skin. He visibly shivered and gave her a quizzical gaze, his eyelids heavy with sleepiness.

"I never noticed that," Beth said quietly, meeting his eyes. "What's it for?"

Daryl shrugged against the pillow and blinked lazily. "I'ono. Got mosta my tats back in Georgia, didn't put much thought into 'em."

She quirked an eyebrow playfully and rested her hand on his chest. "Is it like, 'X marks the spot'?"

He smirked. " _Heh_. Maybe…"

Her sleepy half-smile grew wider and she scooted in closer to him until their bodies were pressed together and they were kissing again. Beth's hand slowly wandered down Daryl's chest and over his stomach, but before she could even reach the waistband of his boxers, he was grabbing her wrist with one hand and pausing their deep kiss.

"C'mon, don't be mean now," he growled, his tone completely serious this time.

She opened her eyes and looked back at him innocently. "I'm _not_ bein' mean… Thought I could help with your..."

He scoffed. "When I can't do nothin' fer _you_? That ain't right."

Beth giggled softly. "You can get me back later – in like, eleven days…"

She watched him briefly bite his lower lip and suddenly, his eyelids didn't appear to be so heavy anymore. He glanced at her lips and when his eyes met hers again, the pressure that had been building up inside her made another appearance. Her heart sped up in excitement.

His voice came out low and husky, "I think I prob'ly should, but… how the hell 'm I s'posed ta say no to that…"

Beth smiled coyly and sat up, leaning over Daryl to switch off the bedside lamp and leave them with only a dim sliver of light coming from the kitchen through the cracked bedroom door. In the silence of the dark apartment, she carefully threw a leg over him, shoving the covers down to their feet, and straddled him. She leaned down and found his mouth with hers again, kissing him hungrily, his skin warm through the thin cotton of her tank top. His hands quickly found her ass and he cupped it, giving it an occasional squeeze as their kiss grew deeper and more heated.

She could feel his heartbeat speeding up beneath her and he quietly groaned from his throat, a low sound of need. Beth smiled against his lips before breaking their kiss and trailing kisses across his cheek, down his jawline and the soft skin of his neck. She found the little valley of skin where the 'X' was tattooed and softly kissed it, then nipped at the tender spot just above it with her teeth before kissing the tiny marker once again. Daryl's hands squeezed her ass and his fingers dug into her skin, a low growl coming from his throat. His hips bucked upward instinctively even though she could feel him trying to restrain himself. The bulge beneath his boxers rubbed against her inner thigh and she softly moaned against the skin of his throat. His whole body tensed as he fought to keep himself from bucking up against her again.

She grinned in satisfaction and began trailing kisses down past his collar bone, along his chest, and down to his tensed abdomen. She positioned herself between his legs, resting on her knees as she leaned down and slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers. She teased the tender skin below his stomach with soft kisses and tiny nips from her teeth. He was squirming in place now, fingers grasping at the sheets beneath them.

Beth finally pulled his boxers off, letting the fabric and waistband slide over the skin of Daryl's hard cock as his erection sprung free. He let out a quiet moan from his barely parted lips and she felt him tense up beneath her again. She left his boxers around his ankles and softly kissed his exposed thighs and nearly every inch of skin around his throbbing cock. By the time she slowly wrapped a hand around the base of the shaft, she could see the tip dripping with glistening precome. It twitched in her hand and she lightly squeezed, eliciting another moan from Daryl's lips – a little bit louder this time.

"F-fuck," he growled, sounding almost breathless. "This might – be pretty quick…"

Beth smirked to herself and gave his throbbing cock one long, slow stroke with her hand and he moaned again. She could see more precome dribbling down the head, and she finally leaned down and flicked her tongue out to taste it. She'd planned to tease him, but he tasted good and she couldn't help but wrap her lips around the head of his pulsating erection. Daryl moaned almost unwillingly this time, and she reveled in the sound. His hips bucked up again and he reached a hand down to gently grab the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. She could feel him resisting the urge to shove his entire length into her mouth and it sent a fiery tingle between her legs. Now, more than _ever_ , she wished she was already healed.

For now, though, she was nearly getting off to the animalistic sounds Daryl was making and the way his thick cock throbbed in her mouth, precome dripping down the back of her tongue as she took him in inch-by-inch, slowly, teasingly, still gripping the base with her hand. He shuddered beneath her and his dick twitched against the roof of her mouth. She groaned from her throat and he shuddered again, moaning quietly in response.

"Jesus _Christ_ , girl," Daryl growled.

Beth wrapped her tongue around his cock and reached the base with her lips, his entire length enveloped by her warm, wet mouth. She heard him gasp sharply and his fingers briefly dug into the back of her head, then she pulled back leisurely while teasing the head with her tongue. He thrust up into her mouth and she didn't stop him, more precome dripping from his throbbing cock. She groaned from her throat again and listened to him swallowing back moans of pleasure and biting his lip to try to keep quiet. Something about it sent exciting new shockwaves through her body and she found herself enjoying this just as much as she enjoyed having him between her thighs.

She slid her hand down from the base of his shaft to his balls, gently massaging them while she slid her lips up and down his pulsing cock until it was glistening with spit and precome. Daryl was practically quivering at this point, having given up on holding back his moans and groans and focusing more on keeping them to a low volume. His hand pushed her head down gently and guided her as he thrust upward every few seconds. She grazed her teeth along the tender skin and thick veins and he growled from deep in his throat.

" _Fuck_ – I'm gonna come," he gasped out, muscles tensing as he froze mid-thrust and gripped the back of Beth's still-moving head. "It – it's comin'…"

She made an " _mm-hmm_ " sound from her throat and finally lifted her eyes to look up at his face. There was just enough light in the bedroom that she could see him gazing down at her licentiously, dark blue eyes hooded and fixated on the sight of her mouth working his cock and her hand cradling his balls. Knowing that she was prepared for him to spill inside her mouth and spotting the eager look of anticipation in her eyes as she waited for him to do exactly that seemed to be the thing that finally tipped him over the edge. His lips were parted and she watched as he reached his climax – it seemed to wash over him just as the tip of his cock had touched the back of her throat.

Daryl's eyes slammed shut and he thrust upward with intent, mouth frozen in a small _O_ of ecstasy and hand still gripping the back of Beth's head. She felt the hot fluid spurting from his cock and down the back of her throat, and without a second thought, she swallowed it, squeezing his balls a little tighter as he let out a long moan of pleasure when he felt her throat muscles swallowing around the head of his cock. His entire body shuddered and she felt one last, small spurt in her throat before he relaxed and the moans faded. His cock was still twitching against her tongue with the aftershocks of his orgasm, his grip gradually loosening on the back of her head until he was letting go and letting his arm fall back to his side.

Beth pulled back and sat up again, withdrawing her own arm and swiping the back of her hand across her mouth. Her knees and neck were a little sore, but that was nothing compared to the throbbing between her legs. She knew it would have to wait for now, though.

Daryl was panting, sunken into the mattress and pillow. His face and chest glistened with perspiration and his eyelids hung heavy. She smiled in satisfaction and crawled back up to capture his lips in a kiss, quickly finding his tongue with her own. He groaned into her mouth and she thought he might've thrust up against her again if he weren't so spent. He reached one hand up lazily and held the back of her neck.

She broke away and he was still trying to fully catch his breath, sighing deeply. His face was flushed but there was a haziness to his eyes that made Beth feel accomplished.

He licked his lips and whispered out, still a little breathless, "That was… _goddamn_ … But now I jus' wanna… _fuckin'_ … god _damn_ , girl."

She smirked mischievously and kissed him again, then pulled back and giggled before plopping down beside him and pulling the comforter back over herself. He shook his head and pulled his boxers back up, then slipped beneath the comforter and scooted in closer until they were cuddled together. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in tighter, letting out another sigh. Beth relaxed against him and got comfortable, watching his eyelids drift shut through the darkness, one hand resting on his warm stomach.

He felt her eyes on him and opened his own, turning his head on the pillow to look at her. He looked exhausted but also relieved. She couldn't help but silently admire him, unable to tear her eyes away from his, lost in the dark blue depths. She felt something like an after-sex haze in this moment, but more intense – more meaningful. Something sparked in her mind and she had the strangest urge building up, like an impulsive thought.

She swallowed back the words that were forming on her tongue. They were ridiculous anyway, and she refused to repeat them in her head. She immediately pushed them away and the impulsive urge quickly disappeared.

"What?" He grunted, licking his lips and gazing at her expectantly.

Beth shrugged and smiled sheepishly.

He sighed softly and after a few moments of silence, their breathing the only sound besides the faint city noises drifting in from the living room window, he muttered, "Gonna make French toast in the mornin'. You gonna want some?"

She nodded against the pillow. "Definitely."

He smirked and blinked lazily, gazing back at her. She wondered if he thought anything similar while looking at her to what she thought while she was looking at him… Maybe she was just hoping he did.

But then she saw something cross his face and after a moment or two of comfortable silence, he muttered thoughtfully, "When Mal ran off earlier – I think he wanted ta go talk to the kid he saw. I don't think he's gettin' enough interaction with other kids his age…"

Beth frowned and sighed thoughtfully. "Well, you take him to the park an' stuff, he gets t'meet and play with other kids pretty often, it seems like."

Daryl shrugged lazily and mumbled, "Only once or twice a week, if I got the time. An' Carol's usually too busy with her school stuff an' Sophia t'be takin' him to the park an' stuff like that a lot. Only other kid he's really used to is Sophia, but she ain't a _little_ kid…"

He sighed and gazed off in contemplation while Beth watched him. She quietly suggested, "Won't he be starting school next year? Maybe you could put him in some kinda daycare or somethin' a couple times a week till then."

Daryl nodded and met her eyes again. "Maybe… Dunno if I can really afford it, though. Daycare's pretty expensive 'round here. Couldn't afford ta put him in preschool. 'S jus' lucky I met Carol and got a good deal with her."

"Yeah," Beth said understandingly. She paused and studied his face as he visibly worried about his son, mulling over his options. Then she suggested hesitantly, "I could pay for it."

He smirked like she'd made a joke and shook his head against the pillow. " _Hah_ , no way."

She raised her eyebrows and spoke a little more assuredly, "No, really – I got the money. It wouldn't be a big deal – "

Daryl's smirk quickly disappeared and he said flatly, "No. You ain't payin' fer my kid."

She furrowed her brow and studied his eyes, slowly realizing why he'd grown so serious, and thought, _Should've known better than to say that – he's way too prideful to just accept it_.

She paused, then said softly, "Then I'll lend it to you. You can pay me back later."

He opened his mouth again like he was going to argue, but stopped and closed it again. She could see him thinking over her suggestion for a moment, then he rumbled, "Maybe… I'll think about it."

She shrugged and smiled coyly. "Okay…"

The corner of his mouth tugged upward in a small smirk and she could see him studying her face in a different way.

Then he furrowed his brow and she could tell he was thinking _something_ , but it was more like something he'd just remembered. She could sense a question coming before he opened his mouth.

"What d'you really think a that Tobin guy?" Daryl asked quietly, his voice husky with exhaustion.

 _Didn't expect that question,_ Beth thought, unsure of what he was getting at.

She shrugged. "He seems nice. I mean… I didn't really talk to him. But Carol's happy so far, an'… I dunno. Why? Did he… _do_ somethin'?"

 _Did Daryl catch the way Tobin looked at me?_ She thought, heart skipping as she silently recalled the class. _Or is he suspicious of him because of something else? Oh, God, I hope he doesn't get the wrong idea and start suspecting Tobin for no reason because I –_

Daryl shook his head against his pillow and replied, "Nah. Jus' kinda noticed the way you were lookin' at him this mornin'. Thought he mighta – I'ono, rubbed ya wrong or somethin'…"

 _Shit, it's not about the way Tobin looked at_ _ **me**_ _– it's the way I looked at_ _ **Tobin**_ _,_ Beth thought, scolding herself. _I really do need to be more careful… but how am I supposed to control my reactions like that? Who else would've even noticed that except Daryl?_

She swallowed uncomfortably but shook her head, trying to appear nonchalant. Then she lied, "Oh – no. It was nothin'. He jus'… looked like somebody I used ta know. It was one a those weird moments."

She half-smiled reassuringly but Daryl was still studying her face.

"You sure?" He asked quietly. "There ain't… somethin' you wanna tell me?"

The icy fingers of dread, guilt, and desire reached up and wrapped around her lungs, and her breath caught in her throat for a second. She swallowed past a growing knot in her throat while two very different sides waged war inside her head.

 _God, yes. So much, so badly,_ one side thought.

 _But you'd never understand. You'd never see me the same. You'd be so utterly livid… You'd never want anything to do with me again,_ the other side argued.

So Beth shook her head softly and stared back into Daryl's eyes. She licked her lips and replied quietly, "No… That's it. I promise."

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** No, Malachi doesn't know anything about Beth's past (or future), he just has a really wild imagination. Although I can't say it's not blatant foreshadowing.  
The title of this chapter is taken from the song "Kathrin With a K" by Super Whatevr - it's beautiful, go listen to it and think about Beth and Daryl.  
Last chapter got 500+ views and 3 reviews lmao. So if you're reading, just let me know you're here and whether you're enjoying yourself or not! :)


	43. i wanna live in the city with no friends

_**i wanna live in the city with no friends or family;**_

Beth was standing face-to-face with Detective Dawn Lerner. They were somewhere dark that Beth didn't recognize and Dawn was in her usual spotless uniform, gun holstered at her side. She and Beth were nearly the same height, no more than inch in difference. Beth knew this wasn't real; she'd never been this close to Dawn, ever. Yet at the moment, she couldn't decipher from reality.

Dawn's narrowed, blue eyes stared intensely into Beth's.

A chill ran through her and then Dawn was speaking, her words spat out like venom, "You're a _cop_ _killer_."

Beth's mouth was moving before she could think about the words. "I would _never_ kill somebody."

"But you did," Dawn snapped.

Beth swallowed hard, tears pooling in her eyes. Her voice came out choked, "No, I didn't mean – "

"What do you think the others would do if they found out?" Dawn interrupted, eyebrow arched.

Beth felt two inches tall. She fought back the tears that were building.

Her voice was no longer her own. "They'd turn me in."

For the first time ever, Beth saw Dawn's mouth turn upwards into a vicious smile. And when she spoke, her lips began dripping with blood, dribbling down her chin and onto the front of her impeccable uniform. "You have no one left. They're all locked up. Where you gonna go? There's nowhere else _for_ you to go, nowhere to run, nowhere that you can hide…"

And then Beth was sitting up and gasping for breath, opening her eyes and blinking to find herself in the dark bedroom of apartment 3A. Her face was wet and she reached up to wipe it away, quickly realizing she'd been crying in her sleep. Her forehead was damp with perspiration and she still felt breathless… terrified.

But why? She'd never had an interaction anywhere close to that with Detective Lerner. Her daddy had always dealt with it, and he'd usually become furious if he spotted _any_ cops talking to Beth without his direct permission or supervision. Yet now, the dark-haired woman was haunting Beth's dreams, reminding her of the reality of her situation in one of the worst ways possible.

She knew it was inevitable. No matter what she did, no matter how briefly happy or content she managed to feel by spending time with Daryl or Malachi or the others, it was all constantly looming in the back of her mind: she was a murderer, she'd taken a man's life; she'd abandoned her family; and now, she was surrounded by Georgia natives and security cameras and news articles asking where she'd run to. Sitting next to the boxes of fear and paranoia was a giant, overstuffed trunk of guilt. And Beth really, _really_ didn't feel like unpacking.

But looking away from the heavy baggage only proved to work for so long. Until it caught up with her in ways like this. Just like Jimmy and August Eleventh. Just like the pregnancy. Her own mind was the worst weapon because it was constantly being used against her. If she tried to distract herself or forget about something, there was always a reminder that popped up to keep her well-grounded. At this point, though, she felt so grounded that it was like being buried inside a grave: the bullet inside Shane Walsh was the casket, running away from Georgia was the cement vault, and settling down in New York City was the hundreds of pounds of earth packed on top. And maybe lying to Daryl and Carol and all the others would be the headstone.

For the first moment she was awake, Beth was still disoriented and fighting to calm her racing heartbeat. Then she remembered exactly where she was and where she'd been before falling asleep, and she realized the bed was empty. She glanced around in confusion, an indention still left in the pillow that Daryl had been sleeping on. The clock read 5:22. There were no sounds coming from anywhere in the apartment and she rationalized that he'd probably gotten up to tend to Mal.

She tried to ignore the part of her that wished Daryl had been there when she'd woken up to comfort her, like the last time she'd had a nightmare.

Instead, Beth reached over and grabbed the bottle of water sitting on her nightstand to take a long drink, then laid back down and rolled over. She closed her eyes and tried to fall back asleep, but she found herself listening for Daryl's footsteps in the hall. After several minutes of silence, she focused on getting back to sleep. But every time she began to enter that hazy state right before drifting off, Lerner's face would appear menacingly in the blacks of her eyelids, and she'd have to open her eyes and take long, deep breaths.

She battled like this for what felt like a long time, growing fed up and deciding to give in to temptation. She got out of bed and quietly walked down the hall to the boys' bedroom, the door still half-open like it normally was at night. Beth silently approached and peeked her head inside, squinting through the dim lighting of Mal's nightlight. The toddler's bed was surprisingly empty and she glanced back over to Daryl's bed to see Mal curled up near the edge of the bed with Daryl's arms around him, both of them sleeping soundly.

Beth decided not to disturb them, wondering if Mal had another nightmare, too. She found herself thinking, _Guess we're all a little fucked up around here._

Instead of trying to go back to bed and force herself to drift in and out of a hazy, nightmarish terror, she wandered to the living room and turned on the TV, then curled up on the couch with a pillow and a throw blanket. She kept the volume low and left all the lights off, finding a rerun of _Scrubs_ and deciding it was the only decent thing on at such an early hour. The window was still open and the cool morning breeze circulated through the living room as birds awoke outside and the hints of a sunrise were appearing on the horizon. But the city was still sleeping, and Beth wished she could be, too.

She wasn't sure if it was the dream or if her body was still trained to wake up at this time on Sunday mornings. A part of her even felt a little guilty for sleeping in and lying around when, a month ago, she was up, dressed, and eating by six a.m. every single Sunday. Then again, a lot more had drastically changed since then besides just her Sunday morning routine. Her situation no longer felt like some kind of weird vacation – it was starting to feel like permanence. Or temporary permanence, in a way.

Even though she was curled up and comfortable on the couch with cool morning air on her face, she still wasn't falling back to sleep anytime soon. Her mind was relentless, and she couldn't get Dawn Lerner out of her head. She fought the urge to grab her phone from the bedroom and scour all the news sites for updates on her family's case or information on Lerner. She was beginning to think she'd give herself an ulcer if she kept up like this.

Then the sound of tiny footsteps reached her ears, and she sat up to look toward the hall and see Mal wandering into the living room, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His blond hair was messy and sticking up in random spots, and he walked slowly toward Beth. At first, she expected to see Daryl following behind him, but then she realized the toddler had woken up first and slipped out of bed without disturbing his dad. She wasn't very surprised considering how tired Daryl had been the night before.

Without a word, Malachi climbed up onto the couch and curled up beside her. She lifted the blanket to share it and he cuddled in close to her side beneath the small blanket. She sat back and put an arm around him as they watched TV together in silence.

"Do – can you put on Nemo?" Mal asked quietly, his voice sleepy.

Beth chuckled softly and grabbed the remote, pressing Play on _Finding Nemo_ a moment later. As the title screen came up and they settled into the couch together, she asked, "You like Nemo?"

"Mm-hmm," Mal replied, sleepy blue eyes locked on the TV screen. "Nemo um, his mom died like me. And his dad loves him lots."

Beth felt a small pang of sympathy for the toddler, struck silent for a few seconds. She hadn't expected quite that answer. Then she mumbled, "Yeah… he does love him lots. Just like you an' your dad."

"And-and I like his little fin," Mal said with a giggle.

Beth chuckled softly and ran her hand over his mussed blond hair, smoothing down some of the crazier parts.

They didn't say anything else, and she was surprised because she hadn't seen him stay this quiet before – except when he was asleep. But he seemed to be content sitting with "Rosie" and watching _Finding_ _Nemo_ while Daryl continued to sleep. There was something calm and peaceful about that time right before sunrise, and Beth didn't even give a second thought to how natural it felt to be exactly where she was right now.

She hadn't realized she'd drifted off until she was opening her eyes to find the end credits for the movie playing on the TV screen with Mal still curled up beside her, having fallen asleep as well. She turned her head and saw Daryl sitting sideways in one of the chairs at the dining table, back leaned against the wall and arms crossed over his chest. He had a little half-smile on his face as he gazed at her, and she realized he'd been watching them sleep. For how long, though, she wasn't sure.

Beth blinked the sleep from her eyes and met Daryl's gaze, giving him a playful smile. "You know it's creepy ta watch somebody sleep, right?"

He chuckled softly and uncrossed his arms, standing up as Mal began to stir. "Wasn't sittin' here long enough for it t'be creepy," he rumbled. "Want some coffee?"

She nodded and watched Daryl turn and walk away to the kitchen, then looked down to see that Mal was opening his eyes and waking up. He looked around, disoriented at first, then yawned and stretched out, pulling the blanket off of himself. He climbed off the couch and toddled to the kitchen, eyes on his father.

"I'm hungwy," he announced, sounding much more awake than he had before his nap on the couch.

"I know, bud, I'm startin' the coffee an' then I'm startin' breakfast," Daryl said, his voice carrying through the small apartment.

Beth stretched out on the couch and listened to the sounds of Daryl and Mal in the kitchen, the smell of cooking food quickly filling the air. The sun was up and early morning sunlight poured in through the windows, occasionally interrupted by the dark clouds that were floating through the sky. The city had come to life in the last couple of hours and it played as background noise to Beth's Sunday morning with the boys.

She eventually grew bored of staring at more reruns playing on TV and decided to get up before Daryl was finished cooking, remembering her antibiotic. She went into her bedroom, not bothering to shut the door behind her as she intended to turn around and walk back out in less than a minute, and opened the drawer to dig out the sock that held her medication. She pulled the bottle out and retrieved one of the pills, popping it into her mouth and quickly stuffing the small, orange bottle back into the sock.

"What're you doin' that for?"

Daryl's low voice coming from right behind her nearly made her heart leap into her throat. She visibly jumped and spun around, face immediately heating up as she realized he'd snuck in behind her silently and witnessed… _what_ , exactly?

Now that she was standing here and thinking about it, she couldn't even explain to herself why she'd been hiding the antibiotics in the first place.

He was staring at her quizzically, searching her face for an answer. He glanced at the sock in her hand and his expression only grew more confused. "What _is_ that?"

Beth started, "I…"

 _Wait – why would I lie?_ She thought. _He knows about the abortion, I can just tell him the truth. Even though… I can't explain why I was hiding it… Why_ _ **was**_ _I hiding it?_

Daryl was staring at her with growing concern, and she could see all the horrible conclusions he was already jumping to in his eyes. She realized she needed to quickly diffuse the situation before he assumed she was some sort of secret pill addict or drug dealer.

She pulled the bottle back out from the sock and held it out for him to see the label, explaining quietly, "It's – just my antibiotic. From the… surgery."

He glanced down at the label and his face immediately relaxed, then he looked back into her eyes. "Oh. I – but why're you hidin' it?"

Beth shrugged and tossed the sock back into the open drawer behind her. "Didn't want Mal t'get into it, I guess." It was the only explanation that she could think of that made any sort of sense – to her _or_ anyone else.

Daryl didn't appear convinced but he nodded anyway, stroking his chin hair thoughtfully and continuing to study her face. " _Huh_ … alright."

Her cheeks were still warm and she turned around to set the pill bottle atop her dresser, close to the wall and out of the reach of small hands. She absent-mindedly fidgeted with the bandana around her wrist as she turned back around and faced Daryl again, meeting his eyes but quickly glancing away. She still felt like she'd been caught doing something wrong and she didn't know why.

"Why're you sneakin' up behind me like that anyway?" She asked, trying to sound more light-hearted than she currently felt.

Daryl shrugged, then rumbled, "You don't – Ya ain't gotta _hide_ that kinda stuff from me…"

Beth's stomach did a tiny flip and she met his eyes. "I know. I'm not…"

 _Am I?_ She thought. _Why would I hide something that I don't have to…?_

He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment, nodding. She could see he was a little more troubled by the situation than he was letting on, but he didn't seem eager to drag it out. He glanced over his shoulder toward the hallway and Beth realized she couldn't hear Mal's voice. She furrowed her brow.

"Where is he?" She asked, hoping to change the subject more than anything.

"In the bedroom, playin' while he waits fer breakfast," Daryl replied.

Then she noticed the way he was glancing at her lips… and a little farther down. She blushed lightly.

With another brief check over his shoulder, Daryl quickly closed the distance between them and lightly pushed Beth back toward the wall until she was pinned between it and his body. The contact alone sent a bolt of electricity straight between her legs and once again, she resented the fact that they still had a week-and-a-half to wait. But then his lips were on hers and she was closing her eyes, sinking down into the comfortable smell and taste of him.

The moment felt a bit stolen because she knew they were trying to keep out of sight of Malachi, and it almost seemed like Daryl would be kissing her every ten minutes if it weren't for the presence of his kid. Nonetheless, it made her heart beat a little faster, and maybe it was because she knew they were doing something that _maybe_ they _probably_ shouldn't have been doing. Except she'd never really been the type to get a thrill out of taking risks.

But then again, it could've been because Daryl was the _safest_ risk Beth was currently taking.

After breakfast, Daryl helped Mal get cleaned up and dressed for the day. Beth sat on the couch and sipped coffee while she absent-mindedly watched televised church services. When they emerged from the hall, Mal headed straight for the bookcase and Beth watched as the toddler pulled out a small stack of children's books and carried them to the dining table. Daryl helped him up into his chair and then laid out the books atop the table along with paper and a whole bowl of crayons and markers, pulling the other chair up beside his son. The boys hunched over the books and paper and Beth listened as they sounded out words and read through books together, occasionally switching off to attempt at writing letters or drawing pictures.

She decided not to intrude on their father/son time and remained on the couch, keeping the church TV to a low volume while she only paid half-attention. At one point, she retrieved her phone from the bedroom and scrolled through all the news sites, but there wasn't an ounce of anything pertaining to her or her family. A part of her was on edge, wondering if she'd find another article by Jenny Jones soon.

It was confusing because a really small part of her was almost eager to see another article pop up – she was genuinely curious as to what this reporter lady could really dig up. Beth felt that it was a promising _and_ dangerous sign that Mrs. Jones had put two-and-two together when it came to Jimmy and her family's arrest. At this point, she was almost _curious_ to see what else would be discovered – and how it could affect the way people thought about the Greene family.

Then again, she often felt that her life would be much better if she didn't know the truth about much of _anything_. Especially when it came to her family.

Beth grew bored of watching TV after an hour or so and turned it off before heading into the kitchen and cleaning up the dishes from breakfast. When that was done, she went to the bathroom – relieved to find the blood getting lighter and lighter with every passing day. Then she wandered back to the living room, intending to grab her empty coffee mug and refill it. But when she got back to the couch, there was a piece of paper lying on the spot where she'd been sitting.

She picked it up and quickly realized it was drawn by Mal – he'd written "Malachi" out in big, red crayon letters at the top of the paper. Below that was a drawing of three oddly-shaped blob people. After a few seconds of inspection, she could see that it was supposed to be Daryl, Mal, and "Rosie" standing together. One of the blobs had big, blue dots for eyes and short, dark squiggles for hair, though the second blob had short, dark, squiggly hair, too, but it also had squiggles around the mouth, like facial hair. It was obviously supposed to be Daryl, boots and all. Of course, the blob that was supposed to be Mal had yellow squiggles for hair and little, blue dots for eyes, and a big smile as it stood placed right between the Daryl and "Rosie" blobs.

"Wow, who drew this?" Beth asked aloud, turning to look at the boys as they sat at the table. She found Daryl looking right at her, having been watching her as she found the drawing. He had a tiny smirk on his mouth as he stroked his chin hair absent-mindedly.

Mal turned around with a grin on his face. "Do – do you like it?!"

"Um, I _love_ it!" Beth replied, smiling. "Did _you_ draw this?"

Mal nodded. "Yeah!"

"I dunno – are you _sure_ your dad didn't draw it?" She teased.

The toddler shook his head, still grinning. "No – that-that's my name on the top!"

She made a show of looking down at the paper again and widening her eyes. "Oh, wow! _You_ wrote that? You're really good at spelling!"

His grin grew larger and he turned back to Daryl, who was smirking as he watched the exchange.

"I'm gonna put this right on my wall," Beth announced, grabbing a thumbtack from a small container sitting on the bar and taking the drawing to her bedroom.

The sound of small, hurried footsteps quickly came from behind her, and after she pinned the drawing to the wall above her bed, she turned around to see Malachi standing just inside the bedroom door. He was gazing at his piece of art hanging on her wall with wide eyes and a proud smile on his face. Daryl appeared in the doorway and surveyed the situation, locking eyes with Beth after he saw the expression on his son's face. She got the feeling that this was one of those moments when he would've liked to kiss her, even if just a small peck on the lips.

 _Mal's drawing pictures of us together – maybe we're in too deep already,_ she thought. _What's it matter if Mal knows at this point?_

But she quickly pushed it aside because she knew what it meant to Daryl, and she wasn't about to push her luck. If he didn't want Mal to know about them and get confused, then she had to help keep it from him. Even if that meant a little more self-control than she or Daryl would've preferred.

With Beth's bedroom door shut tightly and another cup of coffee in her hands, she returned to her spot on the couch while the boys resumed their projects at the table. She half-listened to them while gazing at the TV screen and sipping coffee, her mind wandering to a hundred other places. At one point, she curled up on the couch with her Bible and tried to find that pleasant feeling of nostalgia as she read.

The morning faded into afternoon as the sun rose higher in the sky outside, and after a long morning of reading, writing, drawing, and taking breaks to play with toys, Malachi was complaining that he was hungry again. Daryl gave him a small snack in the late morning, but it only kept him quiet for about an hour. So, at barely half past noon, Daryl put together some sandwiches and chopped up some potatoes to cook into fries.

Daryl didn't ask Beth if she was hungry or if she wanted lunch, but he made her a plate nonetheless and then announced that lunch was ready, as if it were an everyday thing. She joined the boys at the table to eat, listening as Malachi told stories, asked questions, and generally babbled. She couldn't help but feel like she was right where she was supposed to be – even though she couldn't explain it.

They were nearly done with lunch when a knock came at the front door. Daryl quickly wiped his hands with a napkin and stood from the table to walk over and answer it, and Beth watched over her shoulder. Mal seemed to be too preoccupied with dipping his last few fries into the mixture of ketchup and mayonnaise that he'd blended together at the beginning of the meal.

When Daryl opened the door, Carol was standing on the other side with a warm smile on her face. She briefly glanced over Daryl's shoulder and met Beth's eyes, nodding in acknowledgment. Beth turned back to finish her lunch while she listened to their exchange in the doorway.

"Mornin'," Daryl greeted.

"Afternoon – what're y'all up to today?" Carol asked.

"I'ono, we're finishin' up lunch right now an' then I was gonna put the kid down fer a nap," Daryl rumbled. "Didn't really plan anythin' past that."

"Oh, that's perfect – we were gonna go to the park again today. It's so nice out," Carol said. "D'you guys wanna come? We thought we'd do an early dinner instead of lunch this time."

Daryl grunted thoughtfully and Beth instinctively glanced over her shoulder, feeling his eyes on her. And they were. He was looking back at her, and she raised her eyebrows in return. But then he turned back to Carol and Beth watched quizzically for a second.

"Which park?" Daryl asked.

"I don't care," Carol answered. "You wanna try that other one?"

"Yeah – more li'l kids at that one," Daryl said, his voice getting quieter. "Think it might be good ta get him around some more kids his own age."

"Oh – well, we can talk about that later," Carol said, lowering her voice as well. "At the park."

"So's you an' Tobin an' the kids?" Daryl asked.

" _Mm-hmm_ ," Carol confirmed. "Just come by after Mal wakes up."

Daryl agreed and a few seconds later, he was shutting the door and returning to his seat at the table and his lunch. Mal was finishing the last bite of his sandwich while Beth watched him, her plate sitting empty before her.

"Dad, are we goin' to the park?" Mal asked, eyes full of excitement.

Daryl nodded and swallowed his mouthful of food before answering, "Yep – but ya gotta take yer nap first. Then we can go with Carol an' Sophia, an' Tobin an' that other kid."

"Charlie?" Mal asked. "Oh – can um, is Rosie gonna go?"

The toddler looked to Beth, smiling eagerly.

Beth chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, of course!" Then she looked to Daryl and added, "If you want."

Daryl quirked an eyebrow and stuffed the last bite of sandwich into his mouth, giving Beth a face that she could only interpret as " _duh_." He looked to his son, who was smiling wider.

"Yeah! Ple- _e-e-ease_!" Mal said.

She giggled softly and nodded. "Okay. Sounds like a plan."

As she looked back and forth between Daryl and Malachi, she could see the unmistakable resemblance in their crooked half-smiles. And even though she knew she really shouldn't be going out to a public park right now, she just couldn't bring herself to say no.

She tried to remind herself that the paranoia was a necessity, at least for now. But she also reasoned that being in such a huge city would only strengthen her chances of not being spotted or recognized. She could blend in. Just like she'd blended into the apartment, into the group of girls, and into Daryl and Malachi. Just like she'd blended into the farm and the church and her family. Just like she'd been blending in for as long as she could remember.

Then again, she still didn't understand why Tobin had looked at her the way he did, and she wasn't sure if she was putting herself at risk by letting him see her and get to know her. Was that paranoia, or was that her senses picking up on something? She almost dreaded being around him more than she had to, but she knew that hiding away would only make her seem more suspicious.

After cleaning up the table and kitchen from lunch, Daryl took Mal to the bedroom for naptime while Beth returned to the couch. A few minutes later, Daryl was plopping down beside her, heaving a sigh of relief at the well-deserved peace and quiet. The apartment seemed oddly quiet without Mal's chatter, though.

Neither of them spoke as they watched TV, an old romantic comedy playing on the screen. Then, as a commercial break started, Beth scooted over until she could rest her head on Daryl's shoulder. She curled her legs up beside her and leaned into his side, and she felt him relax against her almost immediately. They still didn't talk, but it didn't seem necessary. She could feel him slowly leaning the side of his face against the top of her head as he relaxed further.

And once again, she could feel herself blending in.

 _I have to stop being so paranoid about Tobin,_ she told herself, thinking about the trip to the park they'd be making together in a couple of short hours. _There's no way he recognizes me from anywhere… I just have to stay invisible. I'm good at it, I can keep it up for a little while longer._

She felt Daryl's warm hand over hers and she interlaced their fingers together, giving it a squeeze. He squeezed her hand back and all the anxiety in her gut faded away.

* * *

 _T-Dog's dark SUV pulled up in the driveway on Saturday morning, three days after Annette and Shawn were murdered on the second floor of the Greene farmhouse. It was a beautiful April morning, though the inside of the large house felt dark and gloomy. A heavy shadow hung over the entire household, similar to the heavy bags that hung below everyone's eyes. It was the first day they'd had free of any police presence since countless swarms of authorities had shown up on Wednesday night._

 _Their numbers fluctuated come Thursday morning, but their presence inside the farmhouse and all around the yard kept Beth hidden inside her bedroom all day and night, except to use the bathroom and get food. Come Friday evening, the two remaining vehicles parked out in the road finally drove off, but Beth still had little desire to leave her room. The bloodstain on the floor was still there, waiting for her. Always waiting. Maggie and Hershel checked on her at least hourly, but they didn't try to force her to come out. They knew better than to waste their time trying._

 _She could see the worry and guilt etched on their faces, and the flood of tears they were constantly holding back. She didn't want to look at them right now. Her wrist itched incessantly, and she'd thrown away every sharp object in her sight just to fight the urge that had been building inside her. The urge that kept bubbling to the surface._

 _At first, she wasn't surprised to see T-Dog's SUV arrive in the driveway. Then she realized how fast he'd been driving and how abruptly the vehicle had come to a halt. Rocks and gravel kicked up beneath the tires, dust settling to the ground as the driver's side door opened and T-Dog emerged. His leg was long healed by now, though the bullet wound in his thigh had left him with a slight limp. Nonetheless, he charged up to the front door much quicker than Beth had ever seen him move, and with more intent. Even from her bedroom window, she could see the anger evident on his face and the keys dangling from his hand._

 _She heard the front door open downstairs and rushed to her bedroom door, opening it just enough to peek her head out into the hallway and watch as T-Dog reached the top of the stairs. He looked up and met her eyes and she watched his expression soften just the slightest – but he'd always been kind to her, and particularly respectful. When she realized that she could still see the anger flaring in his brown eyes, the blood drained from her face and she felt a jolt of cold dread in her stomach._

" _Beth – where's yer daddy?" T-Dog asked, and it was obvious that he was trying to suppress his anger and retain his politeness while talking to her._

 _He glanced at the door of the study – closed, as usual. He looked back to Beth and she pursed her lips. Her mouth hadn't seemed to be working right for the last two days, and she wasn't sure why. But this was another one of those moments._

 _He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the door. "He in there?"_

 _She nodded wordlessly, swallowing past a knot in her throat and watching T-Dog with wide eyes. Her heart was starting to race and she would've swore she could feel the anger emanating off of him._

 _Without another word, she watched him march up to the study door and knock hard on the wood surface. Beth's nerves were standing on end as the sound echoed through the silent second floor of the farmhouse. Then the door opened, just as T-Dog was lifting his fist to knock again._

 _It was Maggie, and Beth could see T-Dog pausing, having expected to find Hershel. He nodded his head and glanced over Maggie's shoulder._

 _She started, "Tee, I – "_

" _Where is he?!" T-Dog interrupted, and the anger was very clear in his voice this time. "Where's yer dad?_ _ **Huh**_ _?! We gotta talk, this is_ _ **done**_ _– "_

 _Beth's breath caught in her throat as she watched T-Dog push Maggie aside and shove his way into the study, leaving the door wide open behind him. He stood just inside the doorway, Maggie standing helplessly at the side and watching with her mouth agape. Beth could just barely see her daddy inside, as he stood from the chair behind his desk and approached T-Dog, hands raised defensively._

" _Old man, I swear ta – you shoulda_ _ **listened**_ _to us!" T-Dog cried, and his voice began to crack as the anger was quickly joined by deep sadness and frustration. "She_ _ **told**_ _you about that note – yer own_ _ **daughter**_ _, man! An' you didn't do_ _ **shit**_ _! You let this happen –_ _ **YOU**_ _let this happen!"_

 _Beth's eyes were wide as she watched, lips pursed, T-Dog's voice reverberating off her bones. She didn't need to see his face to know there were tears in his eyes. And she could see her daddy putting a hand to his forehead and leaning his head down, shaking it, probably pushing back tears of his own. He let the other man yell at him, though, his eyes drifting back up to meet T-Dog's._

 _T-Dog waved his hands wildly and angrily as he yelled, and then he pointed toward Maggie, who stood a few feet away, face flushed and mouth still agape. And he continued yelling, "She fucking_ _ **told**_ _you about it! It was right_ _ **there**_ _, written out, black an' fucking_ _ **white**_ _, man! I took a goddamn_ _ **bullet**_ _– you saw that shit,_ _ **YOU**_ _operated on me! And that wasn't enough, huh?! Who else has ta pay the price fer_ _ **yer**_ _fuck-ups, huh?! Yer own_ _ **wife**_ _– yer_ _ **only son**_ _, man! How the_ _ **fuck**_ _could you let this happen?!"_

 _He lowered his hand but he was breathing heavily, fists clenched at his side. Maggie remained silent, watching both men with the slightest hint of fear on her face. Beth felt that fear, too. She'd never heard T-Dog talk like this, especially to her daddy. And though she knew he was talking about Shawn and her momma, she didn't know what else he was talking about. A note? Maggie knew something? What the hell had really been going on behind that study door for the last six months? Beth knew even less than she'd thought she did. All those tense looks from T-Dog, his absence from any meals or get-togethers since his gunshot wound… she was starting to see that they had been symptoms of something much larger._

" _Maggie, will you close the door, please?" Beth heard her daddy's voice ask, though T-Dog was standing in front of him and she couldn't see him._

 _Maggie nodded and moved toward the door but T-Dog reached out a hand and motioned for her to stop, still facing Hershel as he said, "Nah – you ain't shuttin' the door on this one. That young lady out there needs to hear this. She needs ta know that her daddy_ _ **fucked**_ _up, and put_ _ **all**_ _of us in danger!"_

 _Beth could feel her hands starting to tremble and she swallowed back the bile building in her throat. Maggie glanced out the study door and they locked eyes, but Maggie quickly looked back to her daddy._

" _Tee, I don't – how can I_ _ **fix**_ _this for you?" Hershel stammered, and she could hear the weakness in his voice, the bitten-back tears. It made her heart ache for him._

 _T-Dog took half a step closer to Hershel and lowered his voice a bit, though Beth could still hear him clearly. "You can't fix_ _ **shit**_ _, an' you_ _ **know**_ _it – that's why we're here. That's why half yer family is layin' in a fuckin'_ _ **morgue**_ _right now!"_

 _Beth saw the way Maggie winced at his words. She couldn't help but do the same. It all still felt… surreal. Even though it had been two full days since they'd watched Annette and Shawn wheeled out in body bags._

 _She could hear the strain in her daddy's voice when he spoke, like a thread being pulled so tightly that it was about to snap. "I… know. I_ _ **know**_ _, alright? I never… I didn't intend for this. I never thought he was_ _ **capable**_ _– "_

" _You knew_ _ **exactly**_ _what he was capable of," T-Dog snapped. "How many times did me an' Shawn talk to you? How many times did Glenn an' Maggie try ta talk some damn_ _ **sense**_ _into you?! You think you know what's best, you think you can_ _ **escape**_ _this?! But you had the_ _ **gall**_ _t'underestimate a man who has so many_ _ **fuckin'**_ _connections – "_

" _What d'you want from me? What can I do to make this_ _ **better**_ _for you?!" Hershel cried._

 _Beth wished her momma were there more than ever in this moment. Or Shawn. They would've never allowed T-Dog to talk to her daddy like this._

 _There'd be no_ _ **reason**_ _for T-Dog to talk to him like this… like her daddy had killed them himself._

 _T-Dog's voice finally got quieter, but he wasn't trying to keep out of earshot of Beth. He seemed to calm down a bit, but his hands were still clenched into fists at his sides. Maggie's face was pale as she watched from a few feet away, wringing her hands together nervously._

" _You know_ _ **exactly**_ _what you can do," T-Dog said. "We been talkin' about it fer_ _ **months**_ _. 'S time fer you to follow through for once, Greene… I'm done. I'm completely_ _ **done**_ _, man! I ain't doin' this no more, not ever_ _ **fuckin'**_ _again. I ain't waitin' till he's comin' fer_ _ **my**_ _family."_

 _He tossed the keys that had been in his hands onto the desk angrily – the keys to the dark SUV. They landed with a loud 'thump' on the surface of the desk, causing Maggie to involuntarily wince._

 _Beth swallowed hard and heard a deep sigh come from Hershel. Then he replied, "Okay. I'll call in some favors – go home an' get your family together and everything you wanna take. I'll call you when it's set up."_

 _There was a tense moment of silence, then T-Dog said, in a much quieter voice that Beth had to strain to hear, "An' then get_ _ **your**_ _family outta here. You hear me? There ain't no comin' back from this_ _ **shit**_ _. You think you know this game, but that man ain't even in the same_ _ **league**_ _as you. These girls don't deserve that –_ _ **Shawn**_ _didn't deserve that... Their blood's on_ _ **your**_ _hands."_

 _Hershel stepped to the side and Beth saw him over T-Dog's shoulder for the first time. He was looking directly at her, a solemn expression on his face and tears pooled in his blue eyes. She could see his bottom lip trembling, but then he stiffened his jaw and looked back to T-Dog, nodding._

" _I know that," he said, clearing his throat. "I've been… a stubborn old man. I-I know… I know the price…"_

 _T-Dog shook his head and took a step back. "Nah – no, you_ _ **don't**_ _. You really,_ _ **really**_ _don't."_

 _Then he turned and marched out of the study without another word, heading toward the stairs. Hershel and Maggie remained where they were standing, almost frozen in place, faces long and pale with dread and remorse._

 _T-Dog paused at the top of the stairs, turning to look at Beth. She was still shaken up, shocked at the things that had come from T-Dog's mouth. She didn't know what it all meant, but it terrified her. When he spoke to her, though, his voice was much softer and quieter, and she could see the swirl of sadness and anger in his eyes._

" _You get yerself outta here, Beth," he said. "This ain't no place fer a girl like you – don't let yer daddy keep you here. This place'll never be safe again. You ain't_ _ **never**_ _gonna be safe, not long as yer name's Greene an' you live in Georgia. Don't you end up lettin' Shawn an' your momma die in vain – I mean that."_

 _Maggie stepped into the doorway of the study and spoke up defiantly, "Tee, you don't need to – "_

 _But T-Dog turned his head and looked at Maggie, cutting her off and speaking louder, firmer. "That goes fer_ _ **you**_ _ **too**_ _, Maggie."_

 _This realization seemed to take Maggie by surprise and her argument quickly fell away. Before either of the Greene girls could absorb his words or form a response, he was jogging down the stairs and out the front door, slamming it loudly behind him. The house seemed to shake for a second afterwards, and with one last glance at her older sister standing speechless in the doorway of the study, Beth turned around and rushed to her bedroom window._

 _She looked down to see a familiar car had appeared in the driveway, and when she saw T-Dog approaching it with his hand out, signaling for the driver not to come any closer to the house, she realized it was T-Dog's aunt. He got into the car and seconds later, it was turning around and driving back down the driveway, toward the road and away from the Greene Farm. The dark SUV remained where T-Dog had parked it._

 _And that was the last time Beth ever saw T-Dog or his family._

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** I couldn't help but throw in a little callback to season 5 with that Lerner dream ;) the dialogue fit so well lol.  
THANK YOU to everyone who took the time to leave reviews last chapter. It really means a lot! If you're still reading or just joining, thank you for taking the time to join me on this crazy little journey :) and if you're really enjoying the fic, be sure to favorite or follow!


	44. i'm gonna look out the window of my colo

_**i'm gonna look out the window of my color tv**_

Despite the defiance that had been in his voice during Daryl's conversation with Carol the day before, it seemed that her words had stuck with him. Or maybe he just didn't feel like stoking the fire for the time being. Either way, he and Beth walked several feet apart, alongside Carol, Tobin, Sophia, Charlie, and Malachi. Beth could feel Daryl glancing over at her like he usually did, but it was much less often, and about halfway to the park, he picked Mal up and sat the toddler atop his shoulders for the remainder of the walk. Beth focused on keeping her sunglasses on and her head low, grateful that Tobin still wasn't giving her any odd looks and that Carol seemed to be keeping the conversation going enough that she could trail behind the group and stay silent. Beth swore she could still feel traces of tension between Daryl and Carol, but she tried to assure herself it was just her own paranoia again, and the guilt from eavesdropping getting to her. She kept gazing at the wings on the back of his vest as they walked, searching for reassurance.

They walked to a park a few blocks away, tucked in between tall buildings and a nest of trees and greenery. There was a playground designed for smaller children on one half while the other half opened up to a larger playground. And with a cool, autumn breeze drifting through the city and the sun inching toward the horizon behind scattered, dark clouds, crowds of parents had come out to enjoy the weather and watch their kids play from a distance. There were several mothers sitting on benches with books in their laps or strollers beside them, as well as a handful of young couples with kids that looked to be around Mal's age, enjoying some of the toys and obstacle courses. But the park was nearing half-empty as the afternoon grew later and families wandered off to head home for dinner.

As soon as they arrived, Sophia and Charlie asked for permission to head over to the other half of the playground, where there were actually some kids their age. Carol and Tobin nodded but reminded the girls to come back in half an hour or so for dinner, and to answer their phones if they got out of earshot. They agreed and quickly wandered off while Carol set out the bag she'd brought along on a nearby picnic table.

Beth stood back and kept her sunglasses on, watching as Mal rushed over to another little boy he spotted a few feet away and Daryl exchanged a few hushed words with Carol while she worked at the picnic table, Tobin standing aside and listening quietly. Beth was too far away to hear them but she knew it was most likely about Mal. Daryl glanced back at the toddler a few times, and then he nodded to Carol and gave her a half-smile before walking away to join his son. He glanced over his shoulder towards Beth and gave her a nod of acknowledgment, which she returned, though she wasn't entirely sure what it meant.

Beth remained standing, beginning to feel a bit awkward. She could see Carol glancing toward her occasionally, but thankfully Tobin kept most of her attention as they chatted idly and he helped her where he could. Beth was trying to avoid taking off her sunglasses, having decided against wearing the brown contacts out this time. But the threat of a random stranger in the park or on the street recognizing her was ever-present in the back of her mind. It was just that, this time, the threat of setting off some serious suspicions in the people who'd come to know "Rosie" was a bit more prevalent and had taken precedence over the others. Once again, she assured herself that the city was too large and too full of people for her to stick out or be recognized.

She was about to wander over and take a seat at the table, at least for the sake of not appearing so out-of-place. Then she watched as Malachi turned and looked around, his eyes landing on her, and rushed back across the playground toward her. Daryl followed at a leisurely pace, already appearing winded from trying to keep up with the toddler. He'd taken them a full lap around the playground already, and it seemed he'd just remembered that "Rosie" had come along with them. He ran up to her excitedly and Beth smiled down at him, sliding her sunglasses up off her face to rest them atop her head.

"Rosie! Rosie!" Mal cried out excitedly, a big grin on his face. "Come – c'mon, come pway!"

Beth nodded, chuckling lightly. "Okay, what d'you wanna play?"

She glanced up again to meet Daryl's eyes as he approached behind Mal, watching the interaction. "Hey, you jus' gonna bail on Tag like that?"

Mal turned around to look up at his dad and giggled. "Dad, let's – um, we should make Rosie be It! She'll _never_ catch us!"

Daryl raised his eyebrows and looked to Beth expectantly. "Hear that? Kid thinks you move slower'an molasses."

Beth laughed aloud and suddenly didn't care that Carol and Tobin were nearby, watching. Without a second thought, she nodded, pulling her sunglasses off her head and setting them on the picnic table before following the boys out to an open part of the playground where there were other kids running around.

When she had her back turned, Mal ran up and tapped her on the back, yelling out, "Yer It!" She spun around with a grin on her face and watched the toddler bolt away in the opposite direction, following Daryl, who was jogging at a steady pace and waiting for Mal to catch up.

Beth began running after them both, laughing and yelling after them, "Better run faster than that, I'm gonna getcha!"

At one point during their chase, Daryl picked Mal up and carried him under his arm like a football while the toddler giggled uncontrollably, and Beth had to slow down so she could catch her breath in between bouts of laughter. They chased each other around, tagging and playfully tackling each other. Mal took every opportunity he could to roll around on the ground, and Daryl made a comment about whether he should be taking the kid to a dog park or a kid's park. In response, Mal laughed and turned around to stick his butt in the air while he made a loud fart noise with his mouth. Beth had to cover her mouth while she laughed and Daryl rolled his eyes, suppressing his own smile of amusement while the toddler quickly ran off to make another lap around the junior jungle gym.

"Complete fuckin' spaz," Daryl mumbled, watching his son run around as he stood next to Beth.

She chuckled and shifted her weight from one foot to the other until their arms were touching. She glanced over at him and saw the proud smile on his face as he watched Mal, then he turned his head toward her and their eyes met. A peek of sunlight through the clouds caught his eyes just right, and suddenly they were seventy different shades of blue all at once. She smiled up at him silently, finding herself fighting back that strange, impulsive urge from the night before. The words briefly flashed through her mind before she shoved them away.

Then they heard Carol's voice calling them from the picnic table and they both looked to see her waving them over, signaling that dinner was ready. Tobin was already walking toward the other playground to look for a sign of Charlie and Sophia. Daryl quickly turned and headed toward Mal, calling after him. Beth waited for them to rejoin her, then they walked to the restrooms nearby before heading to the picnic table together.

Tobin returned with Sophia and Charlie in tow a couple of minutes later, and everyone took seats at the picnic table. Carol had set out plates with BLT sandwiches and bottles of juice and water for everyone, and Beth didn't give it a second thought as Daryl motioned her over to sit next to him, where he had Mal on his lap to save room on the bench and help the toddler eat. She squeezed into the seat on the end of the bench, next to Daryl. Carol sat on the other side of him, and across from her was Tobin, who shared the other side of the picnic table with Sophia and Charlie.

The preteens began eating and chatting with each other quietly, giggling at their inside jokes while the adults began to dig in to their own meals. Malachi chatted away happily about the other kid he'd been playing with earlier. Then he got distracted by his sandwich and grew quiet, and Carol took her opportunity to start a grown-up conversation.

"So did you already start looking into some daycares or anything?" She asked between bites of her sandwich, looking over at Daryl.

Beth watched silently, leisurely eating her dinner, as Daryl shrugged and finished his bite of sandwich before replying, "Skimmed over some on Google earlier, but I haven't done any serious lookin' yet. You got any suggestions?"

Carol nodded. "I think I might know a couple, but I'll look into it. Did he say somethin' about all this, or…?"

Daryl shook his head and Beth glanced at Mal, realizing the toddler was oblivious to the fact that he was the topic of conversation right now. He was far more fascinated with the bacon that kept falling out of his sandwich. Daryl answered, "Nah, jus' been kinda thinkin' about it ever since I couldn't get him inta that preschool. An' ya know, all those psychologists talk about gettin' kids enough interaction with other kids their own age – don't want him bein' weird an' outta place like I was."

Carol chuckled but Beth felt a little pang of sympathy for Daryl. She could tell it was an off-handed comment and he didn't mean anything serious by it, but she was starting to see just how much his own past affected how he parented. She felt another stab of guilt for losing Mal in the store the day before, beginning to wonder if it had caused Daryl to start rethinking other things, or if it had just added to his list of worries.

"I had the same problem when Chuck was Malachi's age," Tobin commented, and his daughter turned her head to glare at him from her seat.

"Dad, I _told_ you not to call me that," Charlie grumbled.

Tobin's eyes widened for a second and he glanced over at his daughter. "Sorry – I meant _Charlie_."

She rolled her eyes and turned back to Sophia, who was suppressing a smile and a quiet giggle.

Daryl smirked at the exchange then nodded to Tobin. "Oh yeah?"

Tobin nodded and met Daryl's gaze, explaining, "We couldn't afford preschool either, and trips to the park and those little community activities only go so far. I think it made kindergarten less of a major transition that we had her in daycare twice a week. I mean, it's a little expensive, but it's worth it."

Daryl nodded as he listened attentively, mulling over Tobin's words for a moment.

Carol added, "That's true. He's surprisingly good with other kids for his age, but whenever I get a chance to take him out, I can tell he needs it a little more often."

Daryl shrugged, "Yeah, kinda what I was thinkin', too. He ran off in the store yesterday 'cause he saw some other kid an' wanted ta talk to him."

 _Shit_ , Beth thought, feeling her cheeks warming up and looking down at her plate, focusing on the sandwich in her hands and hoping no one was looking at her.

"Not the first time _that's_ happened – to you _or_ me," Carol said.

Daryl grunted. "Yeah. But…"

"It'd be good for him," Tobin said, and Beth glanced over at him to see a small, encouraging smile on his face as he looked at Daryl. "Nothing wrong with wanting him to make some friends."

Daryl nodded, taking a big bite of his sandwich and chewing it while he gazed down at Malachi thoughtfully, who was struggling to keep the last pieces of his sandwich together. The toddler noticed the eyes on him and looked up, quickly filling the peaceful silence with more questions and babbling.

They finished their dinner amongst conversations about the self-defense class and whatever Mal was rambling about. Beth and Daryl's eyes met several times, and he offered a small half-smile a few of those times. She was relieved to find herself relaxing a bit around Tobin, though she could've sworn she'd caught him gazing at her quizzically at one point or another. She attributed it to her own paranoia and brushed it off, because every time she glanced over and happened to meet his eyes, he'd flash her a polite smile and turn back to his food or Carol or Daryl.

After they'd all helped clean up and dispose of their garbage, Sophia and Charlie went to a separate picnic table that was nearby together, sharing funny photos with each other on their phones and giggling amongst themselves. Daryl and Tobin got caught up talking to each other about what they did for a living and their shared interest in motorcycles. They continued their conversation as Daryl led Mal back to the playground, directing him toward a small group of toddlers playing in a sandbox. Beth hung back, sitting at the picnic table and scrolling through news headlines on her phone absent-mindedly.

Carol was preoccupied with packing up the bag she'd brought along, wandering back over to the picnic table from the garbage can nearby and stuffing some empty containers into the bag. Beth could see Carol from the corner of her eye, glancing at her.

"So you're feeling better? Doin' okay?" Carol asked casually as she organized the contents of her bag.

Beth looked up from her phone and nodded. "Yeah. Thanks…"

Carol raised her eyebrows, giving Beth a stern, mother-like expression. "You've been taking the antibiotic?"

Beth nodded. "Of course."

"Good," Carol said with a small smile. "I'm glad to hear it."

Beth waited awkwardly for a few seconds, watching the other woman zip up her bag. Then she looked back down to her phone screen. A part of her was uneasy about Carol now since she'd overheard the argument with Daryl. She was starting to wonder if she needed to be more guarded around this particular woman.

"So you told Daryl…" It sounded more like a statement than a question, yet when Beth looked back up, she found Carol gazing at her expectantly, as if she were waiting for an answer.

All Beth could do was nod silently, unsure of what to expect.

She couldn't help but think, _And what business is it of yours?_ But she tried to stop herself from being resentful towards one of the people who'd helped her the most in the last couple of weeks.

Carol quirked an eyebrow, then said, "I didn't think you… wanted him to know."

Beth shrugged, blood rushing to her face no matter how hard she tried to fight it. She glanced down at her phone awkwardly, feeling herself shrinking under Carol's intense gaze.

"I, uh… it just kinda came out," she replied weakly, quickly clearing her throat and looking up to Carol's eyes, forcing herself to speak with more assurance. "He was worried and… there wasn't really any reason to lie about it."

Carol nodded as though it were a suitable explanation, but her eyebrow was still quirked curiously. "Right… he's a caring guy, and he's very observant, so that doesn't surprise me."

 _What're you getting at with this?_ Beth wondered silently, studying Carol's expression and trying to figure it out.

But then the older woman smiled briefly and said, "He's a worrier – if you hadn't picked up on that yet."

Beth half-smiled hesitantly, "Yeah, I noticed…"

"But sometimes he doesn't worry about the right things," Carol added, and Beth's smile disappeared.

"What d'you mean?" She asked quietly.

Carol shrugged. "He's got a lot on his plate, being a single dad and working – there's a lot that he's pushed aside for the sake of putting Mal first. And that kinda stuff builds up after a while… I'm sure you know what I mean."

Beth looked away briefly, heart thumping in her chest as she thought, _Unfortunately, I think I do._

She watched Carol glance back over her shoulder, watching Daryl and Tobin talk while Mal played with a couple other kids in the sandbox. A few of the kids' mothers stood nearby, and one of them was standing next to Daryl, appearing to chat with him and Tobin. She was blonde and beautiful, and Beth could see, even from where she sat, the way the woman was laughing at every other thing Daryl said.

Carol turned her head back to look at Beth and noticed her eyes lingering on Daryl for a second too long. When Beth met her eyes again, the older woman was studying her thoughtfully.

"What is it that you want out of this, exactly?" Carol asked.

She made the question sound so simple and casual that it caught Beth off-guard at first. Her stomach did a small flip and she searched for the right answer. But she wasn't sure there _was_ a right answer. There was no lie needed for this. Not that she could believably lie about it anyway. Carol knew something was up between them, and at this point, Beth was afraid it would only end up hurting Daryl if she continued to deny it. Carol would figure it out eventually anyway.

Beth shrugged, opening her mouth and pausing. She shook her head and blinked, then said, with some assurance, "Nothing – I don't _want_ anything out of it."

Carol raised her eyebrows. "You wanted to feel safe… didn't you?"

Beth looked away thoughtfully for a moment, then replied, "Well, yeah…"

"So did he," Carol said softly.

Beth blinked and felt a knot forming in her throat. She swallowed past it and stuffed her phone into her pocket, beginning to fiddle with the bandana around her wrist.

 _What does she expect me to do?_ She thought. _She knows I'm hiding something, but she has no idea how dangerous it is… I'm not lying to keep myself safe anymore, it's keeping Daryl safe from the truth, too._

She knew that wasn't exactly the correct line of thinking, but it made sense to her at the moment.

Something about Carol's scrutinizing gaze made the words fall out of Beth's mouth without much more thought as she stared down at her fingertips on the bandana. "I… He caught me hidin' the antibiotics. But – I don't actually know _why_ I was hiding them… It was just – a habit, I guess."

When she looked back up, she saw a spark of curiosity in Carol's eyes as the older woman furrowed her brow momentarily. Beth wasn't sure why she'd shared this, but a part of her figured that if Carol had been able to give good advice about the pregnancy, then maybe she'd have good advice for this, too. Or at least an explanation that would make some sort of sense.

Then Carol left the bag sitting atop the picnic table and sat down in the seat across from Beth, leaning across the table with her elbows rested on the wooden surface. Beth could already feel Carol assuming the "counselor" role in the conversation and she suddenly regretted letting herself speak without inhibition.

"I know there's a lot you haven't told me – or anyone else," Carol said, her voice a bit apprehensive. "About the extents of your abuse… and otherwise. Daryl seems to think you'll talk about it when you're ready, which is fine. He's right, in a way."

 _In a way?_ Beth thought, staring back at Carol's blue eyes, every muscle in her body tensing as she listened intently.

Carol paused and licked her lips, then continued, "But there's some things that affect you, and the people around you, whether you realize it or not. Daryl won't press the matter – he believes in giving people space. But he'll see the holes and he'll worry. And one day, he's gonna ask for an explanation. He deserves someone who can be honest with him. Even when it hurts. If you lie to him about something for so long, he'll start to question why he ever trusted you to begin with – he'll question _everything_."

Beth's heart was beating rapidly against the inside of her chest, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from Carol's, thinking to herself, _Fuck, I know she's right about Daryl, but…_ _what does this woman know? What does she_ _ **think**_ _she knows? Does she have any idea how impossibly heavy this whole thing really is? Daryl doesn't deserve_ _ **that**_ _– he doesn't deserve to carry around my problems on top of his own._

Thankfully, Carol spoke again before Beth had to search for her voice. "It's – whatever you've _been_ _through_ has left some permanent damage. Little habits like that, like hiding your medicine or lying about whatever little details you can lie about, being paranoid of any new person you meet – those are all long-lasting symptoms of abuse. It's a good sign that you came out today without your contacts, but… at some point, you have t'ask yourself if what you're doing seems like something a healthy person _should_ be doing. Or someone who's _trying_ to be healthy."

Beth blinked and swallowed back a momentary confession.

 _I guess that makes sense,_ she admitted silently. _But I bet you wouldn't say these things if you knew the_ _ **real**_ _extent of my situation…_

Then she said, quietly and with all the defense she could muster, "You don't understand just how dangerous my ex actually is. I'm not runnin' from some imaginary _boogeyman_ – I know the real consequences, I know what I'm dealin' with. Why else would I have come this far?"

It wasn't really a question, but Carol answered without missing a beat anyway. "Because you're running from more than just your ex. Because you think you can outrun all that pain and suffering. But you can't. You have to live with it, make room for it – you have to heal _around_ it. And you can't allow it to become the moat around your big wall, where you drown anyone that tries to get inside. Making others suffer will only cause more hurt for yourself."

Beth glanced over towards Tobin and Daryl, spotting Malachi still playing in the sandbox. The blonde mom was still standing next to Daryl, chatting away happily. Beth thought she might've felt a small pang of jealousy, but she quickly pushed it away. There was no time for some bullshit like that right now.

But it must've appeared on her face because Carol didn't have to look over her shoulder to check what Beth had momentarily gazed at before she said softly, "Look, it's not my place to judge what you two do behind closed doors. If you see something in each other… then there's no stopping that. He's stubborn, and he'll fight tooth-and-nail if he thinks you're really worth it. Which he does. But he's used to getting hurt by the people he trusts – "

Beth narrowed her eyes briefly and interjected, "What're you getting at with this?"

Carol blinked, a bit taken aback, and replied firmly, "I'm telling you not to make him _regret_ it. Don't make him look foolish for trusting you or giving you the benefit of the doubt. He's not a forgiving guy… He can try t'say that this is just something casual, that you're both 'figuring it out as you go' or what-have-you, but that little boy is caught right in the middle of it, and something like this can _never_ be that simple for Daryl anymore. He's well past that, he's decided to be better for his son."

 _I can't tell him the full truth. Not even now,_ she thought. _I waited too long. It's too late. I already know he's not a forgiving guy, especially considering I've done something_ _ **so**_ _unforgivable._

Beth swallowed painfully and looked down at the splintered wood surface of the picnic table, unable to think of anything but the way Daryl had looked at her when they were lying in bed together, and the way his arm tightened around her and pulled her in closer every chance he got. She thought of the way he'd been gazing at her when she'd woken up on the couch with Mal cuddled up beside her. She felt a stab of guilt in her chest, icy and penetrating.

 _I don't want to lose them – I don't want to leave them,_ she thought desperately. _I_ _ **can't**_ _._

Her voice came out firmer than she'd expected when she said, "I told him I'd stay. He – we talked about it, an' he asked me to stay longer. So I'm not… just gonna run off. If you think I'm so fucked up that I can't really care about somebody yet – well, you're wrong."

Carol blinked and studied Beth's face, then said, "Okay, so that's step one. But it's also – well, it's a _big_ step. You realize this has far exceeded the 'roommates' arrangement… right?"

Beth swallowed hard and nodded. "Obviously."

She could see Carol biting back a remark and pausing, then she said, "If your ex is as dangerous as you say, then maybe you shouldn't be involving other people in your life so deeply. Daryl is one thing, but Malachi is – "

"I know," Beth cut her off, growing defensive. "I would _never_ put them in that kinda danger. I…" Her voice trailed off and she grappled with the right words in her mind. Then she lied, "I'm workin' on it – on not bein' so paranoid. It's only been three weeks, I just need – a little time t'get used to it. Used to bein' so far away and not bein' followed."

Carol pursed her lips and Beth could see the scrutiny in her gaze, but she nodded and seemed to accept it – for now. "Alright, well… talking about it helps. I don't have t'tell you that. And I might be protective of those boys, but I also wanna help. My door's always open if you decide you need to get some things off your chest. Healing isn't always moving forward… sometimes it's just recognizing exactly where you're at. You gotta start somewhere."

Beth nodded and took in her words, trying not to glance over in Daryl's direction again. She could see him in her peripherals, and she was pretty sure he'd looked back at her and Carol a time or two while they were talking.

Then Carol sighed and stood up, gazing up at the sky thoughtfully and then out towards Daryl and Tobin. The two appeared to have become good friends, chatting and laughing together while Malachi played in the sandbox and interacted with other kids. Beth watched them from where she sat, but her mind was racing with dozens of anxious thoughts.

She was grateful to see Carol wandering off towards the boys, and Charlie and Sophia were still in their own little world at the other picnic table. But Beth felt that familiar ball of guilt forming in her gut, and even though the cramps had stopped appearing, this was something she feared would never go away.

* * *

The sky was growing dark and the city was beginning to light up when Beth reached the apartment building with Daryl, Carol, Mal, and Sophia. They'd parted ways with Tobin and Charlie after leaving the park and Beth remained mostly quiet during the walk home, idly listening as Daryl and Carol chatted about daycare options and getting Malachi more interaction with other children. The toddler had spent most of their remaining time at the park digging for bugs and picking up every insect he could find, and Carol commented on how he was a bit of an introverted child most of the time. But Daryl assured her it was only a small part of his personality and that he wanted his son to have a chance at being sociable and making friends. Beth met Daryl's eyes several times throughout the walk whenever he'd glance back at her, and she'd give him a reassuring smile, which seemed to bring a lightness to his eyes each time.

The apartment building was quiet when Daryl, Beth, and Malachi parted ways with Carol and Sophia in the hallway, heading inside of their separate apartments. Daryl assured Carol he'd be seeing her bright and early in the morning, and Beth glanced back to find Carol shooting her a meaningful look before disappearing behind the door of apartment 3B. Spindly vines of dread grew inside her stomach and she followed the boys inside 3A, heading straight for the bathroom.

Daryl spent a while bathing Malachi and getting him ready for bed before doing the same for himself. Beth had cleaned up and changed into pajamas before relaxing on her bed with the door half-open, the Bible open in her lap as she read and tried to find some sense of pleasant nostalgia in the verses. She'd already scoured the news sites for any mention of her or her family, and she'd come away the slightest bit relieved to find nothing but the usual political headlines that were always showing up. She'd also received a text from Irma, asking how she was doing, and had replied with assurance that she was good and getting better every day. Irma and Dale were still in the Midwest, living it up with old friends and meeting new acquaintances. Beth couldn't help but briefly wonder if she would've been better off staying with them the whole time. At least then, she'd always be on the move.

She heard his footsteps in the hall before Daryl appeared in the doorway, lightly knocking on the door. She looked up from the Bible and saw him gazing in at her curiously, eyes briefly flicking toward the drawing pinned to her wall. She could hear Malachi's small footsteps heading toward the living room behind Daryl.

"We were gonna do ice cream an' _A Bug's Life_ before bed. You in?" He asked.

Beth smiled and closed her Bible, setting it back on her nightstand and standing up from the bed. "Absolutely."

Daryl smirked and took a step into the bedroom, moving the door until it was almost closed as Beth approached him. Then he reached out and snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her in close to him and leaning down to steal a quick kiss. He looked as though he were about to say something, but Mal's voice calling out from the living room stopped him.

" _Da-ad_!"

Daryl chuckled and let go of Beth's waist, shaking his head. She smiled understandingly and followed him out the door to get three bowls of ice cream and join the toddler in the living room. She tried not to wonder what Daryl had been about to say.

The three of them ate ice cream and watched the movie together, a cool breeze blowing in through the window and all the lights turned off in the small apartment. They ended up snuggled close together on the couch by the end of the movie, Malachi's head resting in Daryl's lap while his legs were stretched out across Beth's lap, his belly full of ice cream. He fell asleep shortly before the credits began to roll, and when a light snore came from his mouth, Daryl glanced over at Beth and they shared a smirk. Though it wasn't the first knowing look or thoughtful gaze they'd shared throughout the movie. Beth could see something building behind Daryl's eyes the whole time, even in the dim glow of the TV screen.

As silently and carefully as they could, Beth and Daryl slipped out from underneath the toddler, and Daryl picked him up gently before carrying him off to the bedroom. Beth plopped back down on the couch and surfed through channels on the TV, trying to ignore the light fluttering in her stomach at the thought of alone time with Daryl. She'd left her phone in the bedroom and now her fingers were fidgeting with the bandana around her wrist once again.

She couldn't shake the sense that there was more on Daryl's mind than making out tonight, and she was beginning to wonder if Carol's words from the day before had gotten to him, or if maybe they'd exchanged more on the subject since then. What if Carol had been right and Daryl was going to start pointing out all the holes in her stories? What if he decided to call "Rosie" on her bluff?

But her fear and worry slowly faded away as she watched Daryl emerge from down the hall and step into the kitchen to pour himself a small glass of whiskey. Then he joined her on the couch, settling in close beside her and taking a grateful sip of his drink.

Beth watched him silently for a moment, then asked, "Did he get all worn out from the park?"

Daryl nodded and kept hold of his glass, resting it on his knee and looking over at Beth. "Yeah, he's out cold."

She gave him a crooked half-smile and watched his cheeks turn the lightest shade of pink before he quickly looked away and took another sip of whiskey. Then she asked, "Didn't even ask for a bedtime story?"

He shook his head, "Nah – surprisingly. I'll have ta make up for it tomorrow night, though."

She chuckled quietly, leaning back into the cushions of the couch and gazing at the TV. Maybe she'd been wrong about Daryl having more on his mind – not that she was disappointed. Tomorrow would be another long day without them in the apartment, and if she wandered over to Carol's, it would only turn into a head-shrinking. She wanted to enjoy the boys' presence in peace while she could.

They sat in silence and watched TV for a few minutes, relaxing back into the comfort of being around each other. It seemed to Beth that it felt more and more natural every night. If she were honest with herself, she'd never even thought that it was possible to feel this comfortable and peaceful around another person. Even with Jimmy, she'd never known what it was like to sit and just _be_ , without having to fill the empty space with words or actions or activities.

About thirty seconds into a commercial break, Daryl spoke aloud, his voice deep and tired. "Need ta go campin' soon, 'fore it gets too cold."

Beth looked over at him and furrowed her brow. "Camping? What, like on a roof?"

Daryl smirked and chuckled like she was joking, then he saw the genuine question on her face and quirked an eyebrow in disbelief. "No – up in the Catskills. There's a helluva lot more to New York than the city, ya know."

"Oh – right," Beth nodded, feeling a bit foolish. She'd forgotten about the miles and miles of wilderness that made up the state of New York. "How d'you get out there?"

He shrugged. "Las' time, Denise let me borrow her car. Me an' Mal went up fer a couple nights. He loved it."

"That sounds fun," she smiled, watching his eyes brighten briefly as he reminisced on the occasion.

Daryl took a sip of his whiskey, then asked casually, "Would you wanna go?"

Beth raised her eyebrows, still smiling faintly. "'Course – if you'll have me. Been a while since I've been campin', but I always liked it."

He nodded and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. She saw him glance at her lips but he quickly caught himself and focused on her eyes again, his fingers tapping at the glass in his hand. She could see him chewing on his lower lip, almost nervously, then he looked at his drink and raised the glass to his lips.

She studied him and waited for him to speak again, or to continue speaking. But he swallowed his sip of whiskey and went back to staring at the glass resting on his knee, chewing on his lip again. She could see his mind working behind his eyes, and the curiosity finally got to her.

With a tentative half-smile, she tilted her head to the side and kept her eyes locked on his as she asked, "What're you thinkin' right now?"

He finally met her gaze again and shrugged, but it was tense. His fingers were still fidgeting around the glass in his hand. Then he cleared his throat and swiped his other hand across his nose briefly, breaking their eye contact as he rumbled, "Saw you an' Carol talkin' at the park… Was she helpin' or bein' nosey again?"

Beth furrowed her brow and shook her head. "It wasn't anything like that – she was helpin', I guess. Asking how I'm doin' an' everything…"

Daryl met her eyes again, appearing to relax just a bit, and said, "Oh – good."

She nodded and waited for him to go on, but it seemed that was all he had to say. For now.

She gave it another moment's wait and watched him take a sip from his glass before she asked, "So did you and Mal make some new friends while we were there?"

She was thinking of the blonde mom who'd been chatting Daryl up by the sandbox, but she was trying not to.

He narrowed his eyes briefly and studied her expression, though she kept a small smile on her face. Then he scoffed and said, "Me _and_ Mal…? Oh – yer talkin' about the blonde that was talkin' ta me an' Tobin."

Beth felt her cheeks rapidly growing hot and she glanced away from Daryl's eyes, curling her legs up beneath her and resituating herself on the couch beside him as a distraction. She hadn't really been asking about the blonde –she'd just been kind of hoping he'd mention her, if she mattered. _If_ she mattered, was the key phrase. Beth wasn't trying to come off as jealous when there was no reason to be. She could tell Daryl wasn't the type to tolerate that kind of overbearing nonsense.

But it seemed he could see right through her and he smirked knowingly as he gazed at her, and she had no choice but to look back up and make eye contact again. She shrugged and tried to laugh it off like it was a joke, "I dunno, jus' thought…" Her voice trailed off and she shrugged again, awkwardly.

"She was tryin' pretty hard, but I only had ta hear her talk fer about three seconds 'fore she started annoyin' the hell outta me," he rumbled, still smirking.

"Oh," Beth said softly, glancing away briefly.

"Asked fer my number but I turned her down," he finished. "Tried ta get ya t'come over there but you seemed pretty caught-up with Carol."

Beth blushed again. "I didn't mean t'ask if you made friends like _that_ , I was jus' – "

He grunted, a lazy half-chuckle of amusement, and for a moment, she wanted to shrink away under his gaze. She felt like she'd made a complete fool of herself. But then he said, "'S alright if ya got a li'l jealous."

She scoffed and let out a soft " _hah_ ," hoping her face wasn't as red as it felt. Then she mumbled, "Wasn't _jealous_ …" But she saw the amused smirk on Daryl's face and the shadow of something else in his eyes as he gazed at her, and she shrugged for the millionth time, her smile turning sheepish. The fluttering in her stomach was incessant.

It seemed that he found her potential jealousy to be amusing, rather than perturbing like she'd expected. This was a small relief, but it didn't make her feel any less embarrassed. What right did she have to be jealous, anyway?

"I ain't interested in anybody else," Daryl said softly, his voice hesitant.

Beth blinked but didn't waiver under his gaze, a small smile still on her lips as she said, "Me either."

He smirked almost sheepishly and took a sip of whiskey, letting the silence settle between them for a long moment. Once again, she could see his mind working behind his dark blue eyes and the thoughtful expression creeping onto his face. He looked away from her and down at the glass in his hand. She saw him chewing on the inside of his cheek, almost nervously. She could tell he was about to bring up a serious topic, and her mind started reeling with all the possibilities of what could be so clearly bothering him.

Then he finally spoke the words that she had seen teetering on the tip of his tongue since he'd sat down beside her. "Me an' Carol had a talk yesterday an'… well, she made some good points. An' not that it's really any a of her business, but ya know… she's 'bout the closest thing Mal's got to a mom, so she's got a right ta have an opinion on the shit that affects him. An' she's one a the only people whose opinion I really give a shit about…"

Beth nodded, pursing her lips and listening attentively, waiting patiently as Daryl struggled to find exactly what he was trying to say. _I knew this was coming,_ she thought. _Carol got to him – he wants answers._

He continued, "She don't… know yet that we've… ya know – how far we've gone. An' like I said, ain't really any a her business. But she ain't stupid, an' neither is Mal, an' they spend a lotta time together… The point is, Mal's warmin' up to ya. A lot. Maybe he's gettin' attached, I 'ono… But me an' him – we're a package deal. He gets hurt, so do I. There's only so much I can protect him from, at the end a the day. And…"

His voice trailed off for a moment and he seemed to force himself to meet her gaze. She could see the worry in his eyes and the hesitation on his face as he struggled to push out his final sentiment.

 _Just say it already. Ask me what the real truth is,_ she thought. _Tell me how Carol's convinced you that I'm some kind of threat to Mal._

"I know we said we'd figure it out later. An' I know I asked you t'stay till we do," Daryl rumbled, and it sounded like his mouth had suddenly gone dry. "But – I don't think that's really possible in this situation. You been here a couple weeks now, you know what yer in for with us… An' you know I ain't got any intention of makin' this… _temporary_. So if we're gonna keep this up, then I'm gonna have ta ask you to decide somethin' before it gets s – any _more_ serious... I ain't stupid, I know shit don't always work out perfect. Like I said before, maybe we'll end up hatin' each other in a few years. But we can find that out on our own… 'Least, I'd like to."

Beth swallowed past a growing knot in her throat and nodded weakly, unable to look away from Daryl's intense gaze even if she wanted to. Her pulse was rapidly increasing with every word he pushed out.

 _Maybe this isn't the conversation I was expecting,_ she thought, hanging on his every drawled sentence.

He paused and licked his lips, then continued, "If yer gonna leave, I… I need you t'do it now. I know it's – I know that's kind of a shitty thing ta ask, but I gotta think a my boy an' what's best fer him in the long run. You gotta decide if this is what you wanna get yerself into. An' if it's not – so be it... I'm not sayin' I wouldn't be disappointed, but I ain't gonna guilt ya into staying if you know it ain't right fer you… You can leave now an' I won't hold it against ya – won't even be mad. We can stay in touch, be friends, all a that. Or you can disappear, if that's what you need. But… I can't defend what we're doin' – ta Carol _or_ myself – if I ain't even sure yer gonna stick around."

The gravity of Daryl's question and the options he was presenting her with finally settled over Beth like a large blanket of guilt and she forced back the tears that were threatening to build. She nodded in understanding and he watched her expectantly. She could see his muscles tensed up, see him studying her face and trying to figure out what she was thinking.

 _This is what I wanted, isn't it?_ She thought, her stomach turning angrily. _Normalcy. Security. Stability. More time with Daryl and Mal. Maybe this is what I need… I can settle in, lay low. Blend in. Bide my time. Eventually, I can tell Daryl the truth. Eventually, he'll understand. Or he won't… But he can make his own choice, like I'm choosing now – he can choose to forgive me or to forget me. And then, when Jesus finally comes through… well, we can figure that out if we even_ _ **get**_ _there._

She licked her lips and tried to steady her racing heartbeat. She couldn't help but think of what Daryl's work buddy, Dwight, had said about the situation. She could still vividly recall Daryl standing in the darkness of her bedroom doorway, spilling out everything he'd been holding in. She was starting to think Dwight had been more right than she'd originally thought. She would be stupid to continue denying the depth of her and Daryl's relationship at this point. Everyone else saw it, and she'd only been putting off the inevitable when she'd told herself it was anything less. And every day, it grew deeper. She couldn't ignore it anymore. Neither of them could.

Beth's voice came out hesitant as she said, "I… wanna stay. She kinda talked t'me about that today, too, and… I mean, it's not just Mal getting attached. I know how important this all is, I know what you guys have here. I don't wanna intrude on anything, that's never what I intended – but… I didn't make a _plan_ for this. All I know is that I don't wanna leave and – well, I-I don't wanna leave you and Mal."

Daryl's face filled with dread at first, but it was gradually replaced with relief and he finally gave a sheepish half-smile. He nodded and glanced down at his whiskey glass, then back up to Beth's eyes. She could see it in his face – she already knew that this had been his way of attempting to validate what they'd been doing into an actual relationship. He wanted her to stay, but he wanted her to stay _with_ _him_. For them to be together, to be something real. She could feel it in the way he spoke and the way he was gazing at her. And she wasn't going to even try to deny that a very large part of her wanted the same thing.

"It's – well, I think your work friend is… right," she added softly. "We might be all fucked up, but… we found each other. And it might not turn out well, but – well, we can _try_. If… that's what you want, then it's what I want."

"So… we'll jus' see where it goes. With the… relationship," he muttered quietly, watching her with apprehension.

 _Relationship…_ _ **our**_ _relationship,_ Beth thought, hanging on the word and the way he'd pushed it out of his mouth quickly, the way he'd glanced away from her when he said it, then looked back, awaiting her reaction.

She nodded, then the corner of Daryl's mouth turned up into a small, satisfied smirk as he added quietly, "Can't promise you won't get sick a me. But I won't go nowhere if you don't…"

She smirked back and understood that his words held a deeper meaning. She nodded and said, "Maybe _you'll_ get sick of _me_."

He chuckled softly and rumbled, "Not possible." Then he took a sip of whiskey while staring at Beth over the rim of his glass.

She felt her cheeks warming up and glanced away sheepishly, smiling.

They were silent for a long moment, eyes drifting back to the TV, though it was obvious they both had other things on their minds. Beth felt substantially better knowing that at least one issue was somewhat resolved. It was relieving to know that she hadn't been imagining all those little signs in her head, and that Daryl had actually meant what he'd been saying – and doing – for the last week. Even though she was still pushing off a much larger problem for the distant future.

Then she was pulled from her thoughts by Daryl's low voice, speaking as though he were adding an after-thought to their conversation, "I know there's still a lotta stuff you haven't told me – prob'ly don't want to. An' I guess it goes both ways when it comes t'the two of us, but… you ain't gotta hide nothin' from me. An' I don't jus' mean stuff like the meds or whatever – that goes fer _everything_. If we're doin' this, then I'm all in…"

Beth swallowed hard and felt an icy stab of guilt in her chest as she looked at him again.

He paused and cleared his throat awkwardly, then finished, "And I ain't gonna push ya t'talk about shit you ain't ready t'talk about yet – that don't work fer me, I wouldn't expect it ta work fer anybody else… But I won't hide nothin' from you. An' whatever you tell me isn't gonna make me think a you any differently. All I ask is that you do the same... I know there's a buncha shit yer tryin' ta get past, an' I understand that. But… don't hide it. You ain't gotta do that. 'S not how we live around here."

Something about his last few words made her think of her family for the briefest moment. But when Daryl met her eyes after speaking, watching her expectantly, she didn't look away or blink, she just nodded.

 _How could I possibly run away now? If he's in this deep… I'm in even deeper. I'm submerged. There's no leaving this behind like it's Georgia or Philadelphia or D.C.,_ she thought. _Even if I wanted to… there's no lying about this part._

All Beth really wanted to tell him was that he was wrong – that there were _definitely_ some things she could tell him that would make him think of her differently. Maybe even make him despise her. But she couldn't bring herself to try to explain it, not now. Not yet.

He raised his eyebrows, as if he were anticipating more of an answer. Then he asked, "Deal…?"

She nodded again and smiled weakly. "Deal."

He watched her for a few more seconds, as if he were assuring himself that she was serious. Then he smirked in satisfaction, visibly relieved to have gotten everything off his chest. Beth was torn, though – a part of her was relieved, but another part was weighed down with an even heavier load of guilt.

 _I can't tell him yet,_ she thought. _He wouldn't understand. Not yet._

She could've assumed the answer for herself, but she asked for reassurance, "So, for Mal…?"

Daryl shrugged but his half-smile faded and he replied, "If he starts askin' questions, we can sit him down an' talk to him. But he's pretty sharp fer a three-year-old… Think he mighta figured it out before _we_ did."

Beth chuckled quietly in agreement and watched Daryl's smirk return as he gazed at her.

Then he was snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her in closer until she was practically falling into his lap, and she leaned into him and found their lips meeting in a soft kiss. She could feel something more in the flex of his muscles and the way he pressed his mouth to hers, and her instinct told her that it was the blossoming bulb of something that would grow much larger than she'd ever expected.

For now, she eased herself by getting lost in the smell and taste of Daryl, and telling herself that at least now she knew she was guaranteed a few more months with the boys. And when that nagging voice began piping up at the back of her head, trying to convince her that Daryl would _never_ understand or forgive her, she pushed it away and reached a hand out to grasp the back of his neck and deepen their kiss.

 _I just need time,_ she thought. _Just a little more time to make sense of things for myself, to make sure my face won't go national – then I can work on explaining it all to Daryl. And hoping he understands. Maybe he won't at first, but eventually… with a little time…_

She briefly thought of her daddy's pocket watch, nestled inside her bag in the bedroom amongst the gun and the wads of cash. Which made her think of her daddy, and how he'd always thought they had more time. Beth could still hear Shawn's voice, and Maggie's, echoing in her ears: " _We're close – we just gotta wait a little longer._ "

But what had they been waiting for, after all?

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** I really struggled with this chapter so I hope y'all like it and don't think it came out weird. I really did my best. I could've split it into 2 chapters but I didn't want to. The lyrics fit both halves of this chapter too perfectly to split them up.  
Next chapter, I'm gonna fuck with your emotions. I'm not sorry. You all know what you signed up for.  
Last chapter & this chapter's title lyrics come from "A Different City" by Modest Mouse.


	45. my will to quickly end it all, set thoug

**Trigger warning** for suicidal thoughts in this chapter.

* * *

 _ **my will to quickly end it all, set thought, no end, my need to fall  
(into the ocean, end it all);**_

Beth fell asleep in her bed, cuddled close beneath Daryl's arm. She awoke briefly in the middle of the night when he got up and kissed her lightly before mumbling something about needing to take Mal to the bathroom so he wouldn't wet the bed. Then she awoke again to find Daryl nudging her gently before kissing her, mumbling goodbye and assuring her he'd see her that evening. She returned the sentiment before rolling over and going right back to sleep.

When she finally woke up for the day, it had only been a couple of hours since Daryl and Mal left, and the scent of coffee and Pop-Tarts was still in the air. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she picked up her phone and checked for new notifications but found none. With a tired haze still fogging up her brain, she checked the news sites to find nothing new there, either. She gradually woke up and cleared her head, thankful that she didn't have any haunting dreams this time. But as she lay in bed and thought back on the night before, and the weekend in its entirety, she realized that this morning felt _different_. She wasn't sure how, but it just did. Though she was sure it had something to do with the conversation she and Daryl had.

Beth got out of bed and found the coffee left in the pot to be cold, so she poured it out and set a new pot to brew while she went to the bathroom. Changing her pad reminded her to take her antibiotic, which she did right after leaving the bathroom, but it also reminded her of everything else that went along with all that. She almost felt guilty for _not_ feeling _more_ guilty of what she'd done. But in all honesty, after the first few days – and maybe in part due to the conversations she'd had with Carol and Clem and even Daryl – she hadn't felt the need to dwell so much on the choice she'd made. It was getting easier and easier to avoid thoughts of Jimmy. Every morning that she woke up without nausea, and every day that passed without a cramp or a twinge in her abdomen, felt like such a large relief now. She didn't think she'd ever take _not_ being pregnant for granted again. And she was positive she'd _never_ let herself repeat the mistake she'd made with Jimmy. Every day that passed felt more and more like she'd done what she _had_ to do… as Daryl had so eloquently put it.

After a quick shower and brushing her teeth, she got dressed and poured herself a cup of coffee, then made a small breakfast and ate leisurely at the dining table. She had no idea what she was going to do to fill her time until Daryl and Mal got back home. She was even contemplating making a visit to Carol's, even if that meant being faced with a small inquisition. At some point, Beth knew she would have to admit to herself that she probably needed to utilize the kind of help Carol wanted to offer her, but she was still stuck on holding herself up and keeping everything together while there was still so much uncertainty around her future. For now, her own mental health or wellbeing would have to come second, as evading the law and keeping her real identity a secret was always number one. She knew, in a way, that she was self-medicating with the escape of Daryl and their tiny, untouchable bubble. But that would only last for so long before she'd have to face reality, even in that area.

Beth had opened up the window in the living room, but as she sat on the couch with her second cup of coffee and watched sitcom reruns on TV, she realized the usual morning humidity wasn't letting up, and the sky was overcast with dark, ominous clouds. It was in the low seventies and would've been perfect early autumn weather, but the air was unmoving and stifling, and she got up to shut the window before turning on the ceiling fan.

She eventually grew bored of TV and wandered into her bedroom, picking up the guitar and playing around, reminiscing on a couple of old songs she'd been surprised to remember. But one of the songs had been a favorite of her momma's and Beth decided to set the guitar down for a while and pick up her Bible instead. However, that only proved to make her think of her momma even more, and then her daddy. And then Shawn. And Maggie and Glenn… Arnold and Patricia and Otis…

And then she was opening up the dresser drawer and digging through her bag to pull out the pocket watch and the photo – just to look at them. To hold them. To remind herself that it really was _real_ , that all of this wasn't some weird, fucked-up dream. That familiar, old aching started in her chest as she stared down at the photo of her family, and she swallowed back the tears that were threatening to push their way up to her eyes.

 _We all got jobs to do,_ she reminded herself.

The glint of metal caught her eye and she glanced down into the bag, the Beretta sitting atop the wads of cash, as though it were taunting her. She'd pushed it out of her mind successfully so far, but it was always there. Always waiting. Just like the bloodstain on the upstairs carpet of the farmhouse. Just like her memory of August Eleventh. Just like the ghost of Shane Walsh, and the threat of Life in prison… or worse. It showed up randomly in her thoughts, taunted her while she was showering or half-asleep.

She knew Jesus had been right. She couldn't shake his words. " _You should toss it into the Hudson River. Bury it out in the woods. Whatever. Just get rid of it and don't let anyone know it ever existed._ "

Yet she couldn't explain why she hadn't done exactly that yet. She hadn't even pulled it out of the bag all week. She wasn't stupid – she knew what a vital piece of evidence it was. She saw the irony in keeping a literal smoking gun on her person at almost all times. But then again, whether she got caught with or without it, what would that matter? They'd have her anyway, and she'd probably never see the light of day again, murder weapon or no. They didn't need the gun she shot Shane Walsh with to know she was a lying, fleeing cop killer. Born for better but raised for worse, and no matter what plea of coercion or "that's just how Daddy raised me" she might've tried to use, that shiny Beretta 92 had Beth's fingerprints all over it. And only two rounds missing – both fired off by her, personally.

And what if Rick Grimes woke up? Would he remember what he'd seen? What would that mean for her family's case, for Maggie's and Glenn's fates? What if they needed nothing more than Detective Grimes' testimony as an eyewitness to send Beth to the electric chair?

Did they even _use_ the electric chair anymore? She wasn't sure, and thinking about it made her stomach turn, so she had to stop and force herself to think of something else. She tried to assure herself that Grimes had already been in a coma for three weeks, and she didn't know much about comas, but she didn't hear of many people who were out that long and came back. Or came back as _themselves_ , at least.

Then she began to feel guilty for half-wishing that a man would die. She was torn because she was afraid Grimes would be the key to locking Maggie away for Life, but if he died, it would mean Maggie was a cop killer, just like Beth. And that wouldn't help her chance at freedom either. Beth decided it was best for her to avoid thinking, or hoping for, anything involving Rick Grimes for now. Hopefully, by the time anything concerning him came about, she'd be on her way out of the country.

The Beretta continued to taunt her from the inside of the bag. She had the pocket watch and photo gripped in her hands, but her eyes were glued to the metal peeking out from the depths of the drawer. She thought of how close she was to the ocean, and all the rivers that were literally within walking distance. She couldn't count how many signs she'd seen with the word "river" on it, most of them leading to somewhere five or ten miles away. She'd even driven over that huge bridge to get to the Bronx, and gazed down into the endless blue that was the river. Which led into the ocean, when all was said and done. There were so many huge, impossibly dark bodies of water around the city, and they all flowed into the wide open ocean, taking everything they could with them. All Beth had to do was toss the gun down there, into the water. Maybe she could even take it apart and scatter the pieces, just to be extra safe. Either way, there'd be no way anyone would ever find the Beretta again. They wouldn't even know where to begin looking.

And then she could finally be rid of it. Done with it, with that particular bone that sat amongst the piles of skeletons in her closet. It would be a small step, but a step nonetheless, and considering it was something Jesus had advised her to do, she was confident that it would be a step in the _right_ direction. She knew she shouldn't have waited this long, but as much as she didn't want to admit it, she was scared and weak. No matter how hard Maggie and Shawn had tried to make her _not_ that way – it must've just been in her blood, maybe there was something wired wrong in her brain that made her the weak one. She was lost and confused and impossibly torn, and though she knew most of it was her own fault and the result of her own doing, she couldn't seem to face the real facts when it mattered. She knew that, and she hated it. But it was starting to seem that, when it mattered the most, she had a tendency to freeze up and forget everything she'd prepared for. Or she just made the wrong decision entirely.

With a finality that seemed to appear from nowhere, Beth tucked the photo back into the bag and stuffed the pocket watch into the front pocket of her jeans. She pulled off her shirt and dug out the gun-concealing undershirt that she hadn't worn for at least a week, slipping it on and finding that it fit better than before (though she wasn't trying to think about _that_ right now). Then she carefully pulled the Beretta from the bag and tucked it safely into the holster pocket before slipping her shirt back on over it all. For a moment, she stood still and tried to get used to the feeling of wearing the undershirt again and having the gun resting against her side and just beneath her arm. But it felt foreign now, and she didn't know how she ever tolerated wearing this around everywhere and having the gun so close. She could feel her daddy's watch ticking in her pocket, almost ominously.

Though she knew it wasn't nearly cold enough to necessitate it, Beth slipped on the knitted white cap she'd found at the thrift store, feeling a bit more like her old self when she saw herself in the mirror with it. The hat felt familiar, but the person staring back didn't. She decided that, if nothing else, it would keep her hair tame once the humidity started soaking in. Then she pulled on her jacket, just for the sake of having another layer covering the gun, and put her sunglasses on. She stuffed a bit of money into her boot and her phone into her jacket pocket, then headed out the door of apartment 3A, locking up behind her and stuffing the key into her boot alongside the cash.

The apartment building was mostly quiet, as it usually was, and Beth could tell that most of the tenants were away at work or school for the day. She passed through an empty lobby and momentarily wondered where Clementine was, then she remembered that it was Monday and she was probably at school, too. Beth thought about texting her, but then she thought of the possibility of another inquisition about Daryl and decided against it. She was pretty sure Clem would be in the lobby after she was done with class, anyway, so she'd have enough trouble avoiding a barrage of questions then. Something told her that Clem wouldn't let it go until she had the answer she was looking for. But that was the very least of Beth's worries right now.

She walked out into the bright daylight of the busy city and was immediately met with the heavy humidity in the air, reminiscent of late summers in Georgia, and the bustling noise and movement of the East Village's citizens and its nonstop traffic. Beth pushed her sunglasses up higher on her nose and walked at a quick, but leisurely, pace. She weaved in between crowds and around other people, gazing around at buildings and landmarks as she went, searching for street signs and attempting to familiarize herself and memorize some of the streets and businesses. She had no desire to take public transportation today, and that was partly due to the fact that she had no real idea of where she was going. All she knew was that she was looking for water, and she intended to just keep walking in the direction of the East River until she found her way to its edge.

She wound up walking southeast from the apartment building, weaving her way down sidewalks and across streets, waiting at intersections patiently as crowds of people bustled around her. The gun was heavy against her ribs and drops of sweat were rolling down her back from the tight undershirt. She began to spot signs with directions to the East River and various parks with the word "river" in their names, and followed them. The longer she walked, the more signs she saw, and before long, she could see the sparkling, deep blue in the distance. The humidity grew heavier in the air, but it felt crisper and cooler on her face, and she walked far enough that an ocean-scented breeze was rustling the hair that stuck out from beneath her knitted cap.

She passed various parks and walked through numerous neighborhoods, the scenery changing every few blocks or so. Beth had no idea how many miles she'd walked, nor did she really care, but her thighs were beginning to burn with overexertion when she spotted a park that offered access to the river. Her heart leapt and her pace quickened just the slightest, while the Beretta seemed to grow heavier in its holster.

There was a bridge in the distance, close enough that Beth could've walked to it, and she knew from the signs that it was the Williamsburg Bridge. This particular part of the East River wasn't especially wide, as Beth could see across to the other side and make out the buildings and bridges clearly. But it was dark and deep and ever-moving, sparkling with temptation in the afternoon sun, even though the overcast sky made it appear darker and more ominous than usual.

She walked through a green park, full of benches and walkways and fountains, a large, open court for sports, and a bike path winding its way through near the side farthest from the street and disappearing into the distance. Walkways wound through the greenery, the largest and longest of the paths lying next to the water, guarded by a long, cement fence that was only a few feet high. Once she got within a few yards of the water, Beth realized the park was quiet and calm, set away from the bustle and noise of the city. She watched a flock of geese fly overhead in V formation, honking loudly as they passed, on their way to somewhere warmer for the winter. For a second, she wished she were one of them.

Groups of people walking through the park moved around her, and cyclists rode past freely, keeping to their own side of the path for the most part. But no one was paying Beth any attention. She could see the cars driving across the Williamsburg Bridge, and despite the dampness in the air, she pulled her hat down tighter over her dark hair. Beth weaved her way through the park and stuck to the walkways, avoiding other people, until she reached the small wall at the edge of the path and found herself peering down into the dark water.

The ocean smell was the only thing filling her nostrils now, and as she gazed down into the depths, all the other people in the park around her seemed to fade away. She felt that she was standing at the edge, farther away from everyone than any of them could see. The spot on her ribs where the gun had been poking was beginning to itch.

She stared down into the water for a while, her mind swirling with a cluster of thoughts. Her head was everywhere right now, and though her wrist wasn't bothering her, the water was awfully tempting. When she gazed out across the surface, she tried to find an end, but there was none to see. The dark blue water only stretched out into the horizon and faded away, promising thousands and thousands more miles in the distance. For a moment, she wondered how many people had dumped bodies or murder weapons into this water – into this river. Would she merely be joining the ranks of NYC's scummiest human beings? How many other drowned secrets would the Beretta be landing atop?

Then she couldn't help but worry – what if someone found it? What if, somehow, it washed up and landed in the wrong hands? If they turned it in, it'd be placed to Beth's case for sure. And then they'd know she was there. What if she wiped off the fingerprints? Even that wouldn't help at this point – they could probably trace the serial number, if they were able to read it.

So maybe she'd take it apart. Then what? Inconspicuously scatter the pieces? Walk around the East River and drop each part into a different place? That seemed extravagant. She knew it was a far reach just to think that someone would find it in the East River. Especially considering the city and its size.

Beth tore her eyes away from the dark water and glanced around, taking in her surroundings and observing the people passing by and lingering around in the park. She was the only one standing in her general area and looking at the water, but she felt like she was sticking out. Even though no one was looking at her, or even acknowledging her existence. And during her walk there, no matter how hard she tried to stay out of the way and pay attention, she'd still nearly gotten run over by three different cyclists and two joggers. Yet now that she wanted nothing more than to be invisible, she felt like the brightest shining beacon on the island.

Her mind assured her she was being paranoid, but her nerves told her that if she pulled the gun out from its safe place, someone would look. Someone would see. Someone would call her out, or get scared, or attack her, or call the cops. She'd heard stories about the NYPD, she had absolutely no desire to have any sort of run-ins with them. And if someone saw her tossing a gun into the _fucking_ East River? Yeah, _right_. Game over. She could flee, but the cops would show up with CSI or some shit and dreg up her weapon. Then she'd _really_ be fucked.

And what good was it going to do anyway? To throw this gun into the river? What was it even getting rid of? All anyone needed was Beth – or even a fucking picture of her, or a strand of hair. An anonymous tip that they'd seen her at a random self-defense class. A strange e-mail that they'd spotted her shopping in a Trader Joe's. The only thing that would _really_ do _any_ good being dumped into the East River was… herself. Her own body. Her entire existence. Everything that had ever been Beth Greene, or Rosie Wilson, or whoever the _fuck_ she was nowadays. And the Beretta felt like a part of her now. She might as well jump into the water with it, make sure it reaches the bottom with her. Tuck a few heavy rocks into her pockets, climb over the railing when no one's looking, leap in as quickly as possible. She could sink to the bottom and lose consciousness before anyone even noticed she'd been standing there in the first place. And there were no cameras out here. Maybe she'd wash out to the Atlantic.

If she did that… she'd never have to tell Daryl the truth. She could disappear without a trace, leaving nothing but the photo of her family and the bag of money behind. Daryl would find it, of course, and it'd be like her last parting gift to him. Maybe he would never even find out the truth about her. And she'd never have to see the disappointment and anger on his face, or feel the pain of losing him and Mal. She'd never have to think about how she broke an innocent child's heart. She wouldn't have to see her daddy die in prison, or her sister sitting in front of a jury, waiting to be sentenced to the same fate. She wouldn't ever again have to recall the image of her momma and big brother being violently murdered, and she'd never again have to see their lifeless bodies lying in pools of blood when she closed her eyes. She'd never have to feel all this pain again. None of it – not one single ounce.

Beth was lost in her own head as she gazed into the dark depths, eyes unfocused and barely blinking, a dozen different thoughts fighting for the spotlight in her mind every couple of seconds. One hand was resting over her jacket, where she could feel the bulge of the Beretta under her clothes. She could swear it had its own heartbeat now. Or maybe she was still feeling the watch in her pocket, ticking away endlessly, counting down the last remaining seconds of her life.

She was just… so tired of running. Of lying. Of disappointing and hurting other people. Of feeling terrified and foolish and naïve. Of feeling guilty and ashamed and ostracized. She was tired of punishing herself. It was so exhausting.

She was just… so… _tired_.

It was like the water called to her. She could drift out and be a part of the ocean. She could return to the earth, erase her place in existence. All it would take is one moment. One step. One climb. One small, tiny jump.

Beth didn't know why her heart had sped up, but it was pounding against the inside of her chest so rapidly that she thought she might be about to have a heart attack.

 _Good,_ she thought. _If my heart gave out, then I wouldn't have to do it myself._

But she knew better than that. She took a slow step forward nonetheless, until her knees were touching the short, concrete wall that separated her from the East River. The water taunted her, rising and falling and flowing over and over itself with effervescence. It tormented her with its mysteries. The darkness was so dark, and so deep, and so absolutely never-ending, that she could do nothing but wonder and question and ask herself what could possibly be down there. Besides some eternal peace and quiet...?

Then she felt another sensation, and for a second, she thought the watch in her pocket was finally giving out, or the gun was somehow humming to life. But she quickly snapped out of her deep, intrusive thoughts and remembered the cell phone in her pocket. The sensation she'd felt had been a vibration, which could only mean a text message. Or maybe a Google alert for her name.

She blinked and looked away from the water, pulling her phone out and unlocking the screen. The first thing she saw was Daryl's name, and instinctually, she tapped on the new message and read:

 _Missin you._

Beth hadn't felt the tears form in her eyes. She hadn't even noticed them building in her throat, or burning as they blurred her vision. Without warning, a dampness rolled down her cheek, and she shoved the phone back into her pocket while hastily swiping a hand across her eyes and adjusting her sunglasses afterward. She effectively stopped any more tears from falling, struggling to push them back and sniffling as she went back to gazing at the water. Her lips were pursed, and she glanced around again to see if anyone was paying attention to her yet. She could only imagine how odd she looked right now, being so young and so contemplative while staring into the East River.

She didn't know how Daryl managed to pop into her life at the most obscure times like this. She still didn't know what he even saw in her, if she were being honest with herself. But she was suddenly overwhelmed with the guilt of leaving him behind. At the same time, she was asking herself… what was more selfish? Continuing to lie to him while the police searched for her? Or disappearing without a trace, never to be seen or heard from again, and leaving him wondering what he did wrong?

Her mind was working in every which direction, though, and Beth reminded herself that lying to him about who she really was, waiting so long for everything to get so serious, could very possibly do the same amount of damage as disappearing. On the other hand, she could already imagine how Daryl's mind would work the gymnastics to convince himself that he'd fucked up in some irreparable way and caused her to leave, to just disappear. Or he'd put two and two together and figure out that she went the same route as Lucy – which was a thought so devastating that she couldn't bear to imagine it any farther than that. She shook her head, as if to rid her brain of these 'what if's and 'how's and 'maybe's. The tears were still threatening to pool in her eyes again and she swallowed past a hard knot in her throat.

But Daryl's face was in her mind, and Mal's. And she thought about them smiling, and the sparkle in their blue eyes, and the way they laughed the same and had the same crooked smile when they were being ornery. And then the Beretta felt lighter against her ribs, and she took in a deep breath of ocean air and her heartbeat gradually slowed.

Once she'd regained confidence that her heart wasn't about to burst inside her chest, Beth kept her eyes on the water and slowly reached her hand up and underneath her shirt, curling her fingers around the handle of the gun and pausing. She glanced around at the other people in the park, the cyclists passing by, the joggers on their runs, and the few passersby that had casually glanced at her without much acknowledgment. Could it really be this easy? Could she just slip it out, toss it in, and walk away? Problem solved, just like that?

 _Yes,_ she told herself. _Just do it. Do it now. One problem solved. One less thing to be carrying around._

Then she looked out into the water again, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

 _One less thing to defend myself with,_ she thought hesitantly.

Beth was torn in two different directions. One half of her urged the hand on the Beretta to pull it out, toss it into the water, be done with it. But the other half kept her motionless, contemplative, full of so much doubt that she almost felt she wouldn't need any rocks to help her sink to the bottom of the river. Her brain was sending two contradicting signals to her muscles, and her body had decided to ignore them all and freeze in place.

She suddenly got the feeling that she was being watched and she glanced around again, her eyes almost immediately drawn to the unmistakable uniform of a police officer. It was a dark-haired man, and for a split-second, Beth thought she might've been hallucinating, because the man almost looked like Shane Walsh. But then she blinked and cleared her vision and realized he had a completely different face, though his gaze was set on her as he strolled down the walkway with a purposeful stride. Her breath caught in her throat and she immediately looked away, back to the water.

 _Fucking pig,_ she thought scornfully. The thought ran through her mind almost mechanically.

She let go of the gun and slipped her hand out from beneath her shirt, reaching out and resting it on the railing in front of her. She continued to gaze at the water, but she watched the cop walking by in her peripherals, heartbeat thumping in her ears. Her face was turned away from him and her hat was pulled down over most of her dark hair, and she was glad she hadn't taken her sunglasses off. She could feel the sweat rolling down her back again, beneath the undershirt. The Beretta felt heavier than ever, and she was almost positive that the cop was able to spot the bulge in her jacket from a mile away.

But he must not have, because he eventually looked away from her and continued walking on. Beth didn't move until she could see the back of him, getting smaller and smaller as he walked farther and farther away. When he was finally out of sight, she breathed a deep sigh of relief.

Yet she could no longer find the strength to reach beneath her shirt and grab the gun. The thought of pulling it out and tossing it into the river was terrifying now. All the possibilities of what could happen if she were caught were flooding her head, and she wanted nothing more than to turn and run as fast as she could back to the safety of apartment 3A. Back to the comfort of the couch, beside Daryl and Mal. Back to Daryl's low, rumbling voice, and his familiar scent, and his warm embrace. Back to their safe, impenetrable bubble, where she could stuff the gun down deep in the bag at the back of her dresser drawer and try to forget about it. Where she could lock away all her secrets in that little bedroom and bask in the warmth and security of the apartment with the boys.

And she knew – she knew she couldn't do anything yet. She couldn't toss the gun into the river, she couldn't tell Daryl the truth. She was terrified of losing what little shred of happiness she'd found. She was terrified of trying to move on when she could barely move _at_ _all_. She was frozen in place.

But _goddammit_ … it was such a _soft_ place.

* * *

 _The large farmhouse had been anything but silent since T-Dog had said his piece and stormed out on Saturday morning. Well, it was silent – but in spurts. Beth's daddy had stayed locked away in his study since Saturday morning, emerging only to oversee operations on the farm and eat small meals before retreating behind the heavy, wooden door. He had even skipped church the next day – something Beth hadn't seen him do since his brother, Arnold's dad, had died eleven years ago. And when there wasn't complete silence throughout the second floor of the house, Beth could hear Maggie and her daddy arguing loudly, though she no longer cared to listen to what they were saying. She spent most of her time writing in her journal or looking at old photos of Momma and Shawn. And when she wasn't doing that, she was sleeping or generally trying to escape reality. She'd been ignoring Jimmy's texts and calls – all he wanted to do was coddle her anyway, and she just didn't have the energy for any of it._

 _The dark SUV had been driven away to a part of the farm that Beth wasn't allowed near and she hadn't seen it since. Which was fine with her, because every time she remembered the look on T-Dog's face and the emotion in his voice, a cold chill ran down her spine. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was trying to warn her, trying to get through to her in a way that only he knew she needed. What if Maggie and her daddy didn't really know what was best for her? She felt selfish for thinking it, but she was disappointed that Shawn had died before he could teach her the things he wanted to teach her. What if he'd known better than Maggie or Daddy – what if he'd known something they didn't? What if he could see that Beth needed to be more prepared? T-Dog's final words still echoed in her head whenever she was on the edge of consciousness. They haunted her._

' _What if's didn't help anyone, though. Beth knew that. So she pushed the thoughts out and chose instead to be sad about losing her only brother, and her mother, and any chance at normalcy that her family had ever had._

 _It was Wednesday afternoon, four days after T-Dog had made his last ever visit to the Greene Farm, and exactly one week since Annette and Shawn had been murdered. Beth was staring at the clock and thinking about where she'd been exactly a week ago, how she'd been so sure that nothing out of the usual would happen that night. She was remembering how she'd felt, walking around the farm, passing Shawn without a word on the stairs as she headed back to her room after cleaning up from lunch. Why had she not taken advantage of every single second to tell her brother how much she loved him and how much he meant to her? Why couldn't she have suggested that they go out to that pond a couple miles away and camp for the night, take Momma and the whole gang with them, just get away from the house? If she had, they'd all still be there. They'd all still be alive. But they'd all just eaten dinner and gone to bed like it was another night. Like they were so sure that they'd all wake up on Thursday morning and have breakfast as a family._

 _How could they have been so naïve?_

 _There was a knock on Beth's bedroom door and she closed her journal, though the pen in her hand had been motionless for several minutes. She shoved the tattered book into a drawer and turned around in her chair before calling out, "Yeah?"_

 _Something told her that this wouldn't be a "come help me clean the horse stables" call through the door, and she'd been right, because the door opened and Maggie slipped inside the bedroom. She closed the door behind her and Beth gave her big sister a quizzical look._

" _Hey," Maggie greeted softly, heavy bags still under her eyes and a deep sadness, mixed with eternal exhaustion, evident on her face._

" _What's up," Beth said quietly, looking down at her lap after only a brief moment of eye contact. She couldn't seem to look into her sister's eyes lately without feeling a painful pit opening up at the bottom of her stomach._

 _Maggie cleared her throat, then asked hesitantly, "Can we talk?"_

 _Beth nodded and Maggie moved to the bed, sitting down on the edge and gazing down at her hands. Neither of them was looking at the other._

" _So, the thing with T-Dog," Maggie started quietly._

 _Beth picked at her fingernails, fighting the urge to scratch at the scar on her wrist. "Is he… gonna be okay?"_

 _She saw Maggie nod from the corner of her eye. "Yeah – um, that's what I wanted t'talk to you about. When he came by the other day, an' all that stuff he said… I don't want you t'be scared. I tried to calm him down, but – "_

" _I'm not_ _ **scared**_ _," Beth interrupted, looking up from her lap and staring at her sister. Maggie glanced up and met her eyes, nodding quickly and looking back down to her lap._

' _I can't be,' she thought. 'I have to be strong, like you.'_

" _It's okay ta be scared right now," Maggie said, voice wavering. "I am, too..."_

' _But you're not scared of anything,' Beth thought, swallowing back her argument._

" _You already know not t'repeat things, so I don't even gotta tell you to keep it t'yourself," Maggie started, her voice a bit steadier. "But Dad sent T-Dog and his family away. I don't know where – he wouldn't even tell me or Glenn. Nobody knows where they're going except them an' Daddy. But that's because… it_ _ **has**_ _ta be that way. It's what's safest right now. They left yesterday and they won't ever be comin' back to Georgia. That's all I know. But they're alive, unharmed, an' safe – and they'll_ _ **stay**_ _safe. That's what matters."_

 _Beth felt a small rush of relief, happy that T-Dog wouldn't be put in any more danger. She hoped that wherever he, his mom, and his aunt had gone was nice, and that they liked it better than they ever liked Georgia. And she hoped they would find a new church, where the congregation was all normal, God-fearing people. With every little bit of hope or faith that she had left, she hoped that T-Dog and his family were truly safe, and happy, and would grow old and die of natural causes, and that the Greene family and everything they'd done would become a distant and far-off memory for T-Dog. She didn't need Maggie to tell her to keep it a secret – Beth had already sworn to herself within seconds that, for as long as she lived, she'd never utter T-Dog's name aloud to anyone ever again, in hopes that he would never be found or bothered by anything to do with her family. Getting them out of Georgia was probably the only good thing her daddy had ever done for them, and for that, she was grateful._

 _But then she scolded herself for thinking like that – her daddy had done a lot for T-Dog and his family out of the goodness of his heart, and she knew they were appreciative. She just couldn't help but think that maybe they would've been better off never getting involved with the Senoia Baptist Church and its dark secrets in the first place._

" _What about the cops? That Lerner lady?" She asked hesitantly, glancing up and watching her sister meet her eyes. There was a flash of fear across Maggie's features and Beth instantly regretted asking the question._

" _Dad – he got rid of… everythin'," Maggie muttered after a long moment of tense silence. "Any evidence that T-Dog was ever here, that his family was ever in the church t'begin with – it's all gone. We burned it."_

" _Oh," Beth said, feeling as small as she sounded. She should've known they'd take care of it. She had no reason to doubt Maggie or her daddy. But a small part of her was beginning to worry what else they'd need to burn before long._

" _And – well, the cops never saw 'em around us. So we think they got a good chance of never bein' brought up again," Maggie continued. "Like I said… ain't gotta tell you t'keep yer mouth shut. You already know the drill._ _ **'Specially**_ _when it comes to that Lerner chick."_

 _Beth pursed her lips and nodded, watching as her big sister went back to looking down at her lap. She had the same nervous habit of picking at her fingernails._

 _Maggie visibly swallowed before speaking again, voice low and quiet, almost ominous. Mostly shaky, though. And a bit on edge, almost fearful. It was a strange sound in Beth's ears. "I… Bethy, I gotta tell you somethin'… about what you heard earlier. About, um… when T-Dog got shot…"_

 _Beth furrowed her brow, unsure if she wanted to hear whatever it was. However, her curiosity was piqued, and she could tell it was something that Maggie felt she_ _ **needed**_ _to know. So it had to be important. And when had she ever seen Maggie appear this… frightened? Remorseful? Full of dread?_

" _What… what is it?" She asked hesitantly, watching as Maggie began jiggling her knee nervously, continuing to pick at her fingernails while she stared down at her lap. Beth's hands, meanwhile, had steadied and were clenched together tightly in her own lap._

 _Maggie licked her lips and opened her mouth, then seemed to change her mind and quickly closed it again, knee jiggling faster for a moment. Then she cleared her throat and said, "I – the note that T-Dog was talkin' about, that I told Dad about… me an' Shawn found it the day before... The day – um, before Tee got shot."_

 _Beth's face grew more quizzical as the confusion muddled her brain. She didn't quite understand what any of this had to do with the other – she hadn't even heard of the existence of any sort of note until a few days ago, and T-Dog was yelling angrily about it and pointing at Maggie without much explanation._

 _Maggie glanced up and checked Beth's reaction, then looked back down to her hands, appearing to realize that Beth was lost. She explained hesitantly, "I told you the least that I could after it happened – I didn't wanna scare you. Me an' Shawn both agreed on that. Daddy didn't even wanna acknowledge it, but – that's a whole other shit show… I jus' had ta make sure you knew that things were gettin' dangerous. And –_ _ **dammit**_ _, Beth, if I didn't argue with Dad nearly every_ _ **fuckin'**_ _day about teachin' you how to shoot… him and Shawn nearly had an all-out brawl at one point – he's just so damn_ _ **stubborn**_ _. I can't – we didn't_ _ **know**_ _it would come to this. If I had…_ _ **fuck**_ _…"_

 _Beth didn't know what to say. She was still piecing things together in her head. She watched Maggie silently, chewing on the inside of her cheek nervously as her older sister picked so hard at a hangnail on her pinky finger that she could see tiny droplets of bright red blood forming._

" _There ain't no more time for 'if's an' 'but's anymore, though," Maggie said, the resilience in her voice sounding obviously feigned. "The thing is, me an' Shawn found a note the day before Tee was shot – it was a warning from The Governor. But it was just – it was so_ _ **ridiculous**_ _. It was like a movie or somethin'. We didn't think it could be_ _ **real**_ _… Shawn even made a joke about how overdramatic an' childish it was, an' if it was real, then this Governor dude is jus'… he's like a fuckin'_ _ **comic**_ _ **book**_ _villain or somethin'. It's so… I still can't even wrap my head around it. We didn't think it would… it_ _ **could**_ _…"_

 _Maggie's voice trailed off and she was staring down at her own hands in disbelief, as if she thought this were all a long, drawn-out, overplayed dream. Or nightmare. But she couldn't wake up. Neither could Beth._

" _What'd it say…?" Beth asked, her voice coming out barely louder than a whisper. But the bedroom was silent, and her voice rang loudly in her own ears. She still wasn't sure that she wanted to know any of this, or hear the answer to her question._

 _Maggie shook her head and closed her eyes for a second longer than a normal blink. Then she pursed her lips and gazed off thoughtfully before opening her mouth again and speaking, her voice almost monotone, "It was a warnin' – a_ _ **promise**_ _… It looked like one a those ransom letters from kidnappers that you see in the movies – all the letters were cut outta magazines an' newspapers. And it didn't make_ _ **sense**_ _…"_

 _Beth stared at her sister quizzically, hanging on her words and watching Maggie's face contort in confusion and disbelief as she talked. And regret._

 _Maggie continued, her voice cracking slightly. She sounded like she was still trying to make sense of everything, as though it were all a crazy, elaborate joke. "It-it said, 'He sound of the not warning shall be'… Complete nonsense – didn't mean anythin'. We read it like… fifteen times before Glenn got the idea t'put a fuckin'_ _ **blacklight**_ _over it, of all things. I still dunno – he watches too many damn movies… But when we did, we found… They used_ _ **invisible**_ _ **ink**_ _ta fill in the blanks. Again, of all things – an' when we read it altogether, it was a Bible verse… But the invisible words, by themselves, said, 'heard the trumpet and took his blood upon him.'"_

 _Beth pieced the words together in her head and immediately recited the verse to herself silently: 'He heard the sound of the trumpet and took not warning; his blood shall be upon him.'_

 _Without really thinking about it, Beth muttered aloud, "Ezekiel thirty-three…"_

 _Maggie nodded but didn't look up. Beth was chewing nervously on the inside of her cheek as she watched Maggie pause and close her eyes for a moment, reminiscing. Reliving it._

 _Then her tone grew more serious, and her voice was weaker. "We had no idea that it was…_ _ **real**_ _. That it could_ _ **actually**_ _be from The Governor. We thought it was a prank, maybe a scare tactic from those bottom-dwellers in Atlanta… I never woulda laughed if I'd had any idea… It jus' seemed so – so_ _ **stupid**_ _. Shawn was makin' fun of it, said we shouldn't even waste anybody else's time with it..."_

 _Maggie shook her head and rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand in frustration, wiping away invisible sweat. She sighed and finally looked up to meet Beth's gaze, giving her an expression that Beth couldn't quite interpret. Beth pursed her lips and stared back, speechless, waiting for the rest of the story._

" _Then Tee got shot," Maggie choked out, pausing and swallowing audibly before she continued, her mouth dry. "And – we told Dad about the note. Right away. He… we didn't_ _ **know**_ _. We didn't think it was…"_

 _Beth nodded, watching her sister struggle with the words and force back tears of regret. She hated watching Maggie suffer like this. She hated seeing any of her family suffer. She'd seen enough to last her a lifetime by now._

" _They were comin' fer Shawn," Maggie said, straightening her back and sniffling, swiping a hand across her nose and looking Beth in the eyes. There was a newfound defiance in her voice. "They – that fuckin'_ _ **asshole**_ _sent guys after Tee thinkin' it would be Shawn. An' when it wasn't… he sent people t'find us – ta find where we_ _ **live**_ _."_

 _Beth felt the knot building in her throat, threatening tears that would soon be pushing their way up to her eyes. She tried not to focus on the memories of last Wednesday night playing over and over in her head as she thought about how Shawn had been killed, how her momma had run out from the bedroom and tried to intervene when she should've just…_ _ **stayed**_ _ **back**_ _._

 _Beth licked her lips and spoke weakly, still staring into her sister's watery brown eyes, "Momma wasn't s'posed t'be there… she wasn't s'posed to be killed…"_

 _Maggie closed her eyes for a long few seconds and Beth could see her taking in a deep, sharp breath through her nostrils. She was trying her hardest to compose herself, that much was obvious. There was a flood of tears waiting to burst free behind the stony expression on her face. Then she nodded and choked out, "I know, Bethy… I know."_

 _They sat in painful silence for a moment, both girls fighting back tears and sobs. Then Maggie cleared her throat loudly and sniffled again, picking at her fingernails once more as she stared down at her lap._

" _Look," she started, and Beth gazed down at her own pale hands as she listened. "I know you filled out all those college applications, but… it's jus' not…_ _ **possible**_ _right now. Daddy's been lookin' into some other options. So have I… But we have t'make_ _ **sure**_ _you're safe – you gotta understand how scared he is, how scared we_ _ **all**_ _are – "_

 _Beth interrupted, "I know. I didn't – I mean, I knew better'an to get my hopes up."_

' _Please stop talking about how scared everybody is. You and Daddy are supposed to be the strong ones here,' she thought._

 _Maggie sighed and said, "I'm sorry, Beth. We'll figure it out eventually – I promise. We just… there's so much t'deal with right now. I've been talkin' ta Dad…"_

 _Beth looked up at this and met Maggie's apologetic gaze. She knew Maggie was referring to the loud arguments she'd been having in Hershel's study._

" _It's – I hate that it had t'come to this… I wish he woulda just fucking_ _ **listened**_ _to Shawn," Maggie started, pausing and biting back her anger, then shaking her head before going on. "But me an' Glenn are gonna teach you how to shoot. Dad really doesn't like the idea of a gun in your hands, but – he knows now. He knows we gotta be prepared. And that means teachin' you everything about handling a weapon, an' using it… You think you're ready for that?"_

 _Without hesitation, Beth nodded. Even though a new, deep, dread-filled ache was growing in her gut. She wanted to ask why they couldn't just leave – pack up and move. Take everything they had and run, like T-Dog and his family had._

 _But she knew better than to ask because she already knew the answer. She knew it was far more complicated than that. She knew they couldn't run from their problems now. Everything would catch up eventually, and then it'd be inescapable. If it wasn't already._

 _She swallowed back more tears, then said quietly, "Okay."_

 _Beth couldn't help but think of how different things could've been if her daddy had only allowed this sooner. And she couldn't help but resent the fact that, if he had, Shawn and her momma would probably still be alive._

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Chapter title lyrics come from "Into The Ocean" by Blue October - also a perfectly fitting song for this chapter.  
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	46. how can one man stop his ending?

_**how can one man stop his ending?**_

Beth practically fast-walked back to the apartment after leaving the park by the East River. The smell of ocean air drifted farther away and her thighs were starting to burn. There was a cramp in one side and on the other, the gun was making its presence obvious against her ribs. She didn't slow down until she was within three blocks of the apartment building, when the burning in her lungs began to bother her. And the cop that had looked at her in the park didn't leave her mind until she could see the apartment building coming into view.

She had her phone in her hand, pulling it out and preparing to look at Daryl's text again with the intention of sending a reply. Then she looked at the clock on the screen for the first time since she'd left and realized it read 5:54. Daryl would be home any minute, and Beth hadn't even noticed how late it was getting. The overcast sky didn't help to accurately depict the time of day either. Though she'd been so lost in her own head that she hadn't even been paying attention anyway.

When she looked up from the phone screen, she spotted the familiar bike parked in its usual spot, with Daryl atop it. The back of his winged vest caught her eye immediately. She marveled at the timing of their arrivals and headed toward him instead of toward the entrance of the apartment building, watching as he unstrapped and pulled off his helmet, shaking his shaggy hair free and briefly running a hand through it. He must've spotted her as he was riding up the street, when she'd been looking down at her phone and not paying any attention to the sound of a motorcycle amongst all the other city noises, because he glanced over his shoulder and met her gaze, smirking as soon as he saw that she was approaching him. She smiled back and her heart leapt, the fluttering coming to life in her stomach.

Suddenly, all the thoughts that had been bouncing around in her head when she was staring into the East River were a distant memory. There was a lightness in her chest that felt like her first full breath of air, and the gun was practically non-existent against her side.

"What're you doin' out an' about?" Daryl asked, climbing carefully off his bike and pocketing the keys in his hand.

Beth shrugged. "Jus' went fer a walk. Kinda lost track a time. How was work?"

He nodded and held out his black helmet, and she took it without hesitation while watching him turn and open a compartment beneath the seat of his bike to pull out a tightly-folded tarp, which he unfolded and worked on draping over his bike. He replied, "Good. Got a lot done. How was yer day? Get inta any trouble while you were out?"

She chuckled and rolled her eyes, even though he wasn't looking at her as he worked on carefully covering his bike. "Nah, I behaved myself. Any ideas fer dinner? Or requests?"

Daryl shrugged and finished protecting his bike, then turned around and reached out to take his helmet back before stepping up onto the sidewalk. The two began to head to the front entrance of the apartment building, walking close together as Daryl muttered, "Dunno – Mal didn't ask fer anythin' this mornin' but we'll see what he's got in mind when we get upstairs."

Beth nodded and stepped back as Daryl reached out and grabbed the handle of the door, pulling it open and stepping aside for her to enter first. She did so and he followed closely behind, and as the door fell closed behind them and they took a couple more steps into the lobby, she slipped her sunglasses up to the top of her head and blinked in the contrast of the indoor lighting. Then she spotted Clementine sitting behind the desk of the lobby, and she was looking right at Beth and Daryl with a mischievous smirk.

Daryl didn't seem to notice the look on the tawny-skinned girl's face, because he proceeded to stroll through the lobby beside Beth casually, glancing at Clem and briefly greeting her. "Hey, Clem."

Clem nodded at him, then looked back to Beth and said, "Hey – you busy?"

Beth furrowed her brow, suspicious of the glint in Clem's brown eyes. She stopped and stood beside the desk, giving Clem a quizzical look. Daryl stopped, too, and turned back to wait for her.

"What's up?" Beth asked, studying Clem's face but unable to figure out what she had in mind exactly.

Clem was still smirking as her eyes darted to Daryl, then back to Beth before she said, "Just wanted to talk to you about something – remember what we were talking about after class?"

Beth nodded slowly, still staring at Clem with a furrowed brow as she remembered the girls voicing their opinions at lunch. "Yeah…"

"Well, I have this cousin – he's twenty-two, and he just moved to the city," Clem explained. "I was wondering if I could give him your number. I think you might like him – like, he's my cousin, but a bunch of my friends think he's super cute. So…"

Beth blinked and raised her eyebrows, and she could see the look of confusion on Daryl's face from the corner of her eye. Clem watched her expectantly, that mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth again.

Beth suddenly felt extremely awkward and on-the-spot, and she could feel her cheeks heating up. She smiled sheepishly and chuckled quietly, like it was some kind of joke. Surely Clem couldn't be serious? Beth muttered, "I, um – I don't really think – "

Then Daryl took a quick step back until he was at her side again, and he spoke up, "She ain't lookin' fer any dates. He can come hang out with both of us, if he really wants. I'll show 'im around the city."

Clem's eyes widened and she looked back-and-forth between Beth and Daryl while Beth's lips parted but no sound came out. She looked over at Daryl and he flashed her a brief smirk, which she returned gratefully. Clem was blinking in disbelief, then she leaned back in her chair and crossed her thin arms over her chest, gazing at the two as a pair, as though she were taking in the sight of them together for the first time. Her mouth slowly formed a satisfied smile.

Beth cleared her throat, fully aware that her cheeks were a bright shade of pink by now. But she couldn't hold back the tiny smile that appeared on her lips as she muttered quietly, "Yeah – um, what he said…"

Clem gave Beth a bewildered expression, then grinned and raised her eyebrows suggestively. "So it's true. You admit it…? _Finally_?"

Beth rolled her eyes and felt her face growing even hotter, and she had to chuckle and tug on the edge of her hat awkwardly before glancing over at Daryl and seeing him giving her a reassuring nod and smirk. Then she looked at Clem again and shrugged sheepishly, still smiling.

"Finally," Beth confirmed, and Clem clapped her hands together triumphantly and let out a loud laugh.

"Took you guys long enough," she teased, and Beth glanced over at Daryl again to see his cheeks turning a little pink, too.

 _I don't know why I ever thought this would be a bad thing,_ she thought, Clem's laugh still ringing in her ears.

* * *

Once the Beretta was hidden safely inside the bag and shoved to the back of the dresser drawer again, Beth volunteered to keep Malachi busy while Daryl showered and changed. She wound up having the toddler as her own personal assistant in the kitchen while she made dinner. He asked tons of questions, but was eager to help and learn. They made plenty of messes along the way, but she made sure to maintain her patience and carefully show him how to clean up and fix mistakes. When Daryl emerged from the hallway, freshly showered and wearing clean pajamas, his hair still damp, Beth was surprised at how quickly the time had passed. He offered to help them finish dinner, but Mal ordered his father to go set the table and wait patiently for him and "Rosie" to finish cooking. Daryl obeyed with a chuckle, and he and Beth exchanged amused smiles.

After dinner, and lots of stories and questions from Mal, they sat and read at least four chapters of _Harry Potter_ before Mal decided he wanted to spend the remaining time before bed playing with his toys. Daryl agreed and joined him, and Beth couldn't resist joining in herself. They wound up spending an hour playing out an elaborate superhero storyline that Mal had come up with, in which Beth voiced the damsel in distress and Daryl helped orchestrate the arrangement of bad guys. Mal, of course, was the superhero. And once the day was officially saved, the toddler resigned to his bed with no arguments, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Of course, he asked for a bedtime story, and Beth took her cue to slip out of the bedroom while Daryl took a seat on the edge of Mal's bed and began telling him a story.

A couple of steps outside the door, Beth paused. She stood in the hallway and listened, intrigued because she'd originally assumed that Daryl was reading short children's books whenever he gave Mal a "bedtime story." But it seemed that he actually told him stories the old-fashioned way – from memory or imagination, and with no book in front of him. She hadn't really thought about it until she heard his low voice beginning to speak, and she wasn't sure that he knew she was listening.

"Alrigh', um – let's see," Daryl rumbled. "What kinda story you wanna hear tonight?"

Then Beth heard Mal's voice, "D'you have any about um, about a warrior?"

She heard Daryl's low, quiet chuckle. "A warrior, huh? Like Xena or somethin'?"

"Who's Xena?" Mal asked, his voice growing sleepier by the second.

"An old TV show," Daryl replied with a grunt of amusement. "Okay, I think I got somethin'… I'ono, though, ya look like yer about t'fall asleep right now. You even _need_ a bedtime story tonight?"

"Da- _ad_ , I always need a bedtime story," Mal said, yawning halfway through his sentence.

Another quiet chuckle from Daryl. "Alright, whatever you say, kid… So, there was this warrior. 'Cept she didn't _know_ she was a warrior – "

"She didn't _know_?" Mal asked.

"Yeah – she didn't know," Daryl answered. "She wasn't officially trained, but she had the warrior blood in her. Know what I mean?"

"Uhh – yeah," Mal yawned out.

"Alrigh' – so she was a warrior," Daryl continued. "But she didn't know it, an' this evil guy in her village weaseled his way into her life – ya know, lied to her an' all that, made her think he was a friend."

"Oh – he's a bad guy?" Mal asked.

"Yeah – pretty bad," Daryl replied before continuing. "So anyway, once he's got her, he locks her up. Tells her she'll never get out, that nobody'll ever wanna save her. So she decides ta save herself."

Beth furrowed her brow as she strained to listen, Daryl's voice growing quieter. Mal's voice didn't pipe up and she started to wonder if he'd fallen asleep already.

"So she manages t'get away from this dude, fights him off an' all that, fights her way out," Daryl continued. "An' she runs away, leaves the village 'cause she knows everybody's on the bad guy's side 'cause he's got 'em all fooled, jus' like he had her fooled at the start… So she gets away, an' she runs… an' runs… a-and yer asleep, so I'm gonna stop tellin' this story."

His voice had lowered to no more than a whisper, and when Beth realized what he'd said, she shook her head with a small smile and quietly continued walking toward the living room. She wondered if Daryl made up stories like that for Mal every single night. She couldn't help but find it endearing. A small part of her had wanted to step into the bedroom and curl up beside Mal to join them.

Daryl emerged from the bedroom about a minute after Beth had walked away, and he found her in the kitchen, making a mug of hot tea. She looked over and met his eyes with a smile.

"Want some?" She asked.

He shook his head. "No, thanks. Wanna watch a movie?"

She nodded, still smiling, and picked up her mug carefully with both hands, following Daryl to the living room. They sat down on the couch together, a breeze blowing in from the window that was substantially cooler than earlier in the day. Daryl shut off all the lights except for the usual stove light in the kitchen, and then it was just the dim glow of the TV on them as they sat close together on the couch. Beth sipped her tea while Daryl scrolled through movie titles with the remote.

"Please don't make me watch somethin' scary again," she said quietly.

He looked over at her with a smirk and she couldn't help but smile back. He muttered, "Wouldn't _make_ ya do anything. I jus' didn't tell ya how scary _The_ _Exorcist_ was."

She giggled and took another sip of tea, rolling her eyes playfully.

His gaze lingered on her, then he looked back to the TV screen and continued scrolling through movies. A few seconds later, he asked, "This any good?"

Beth furrowed her brow at the movie summary on the screen. "You've never seen _50 First Dates_?" But she immediately felt dumb for asking it because she could already tell Daryl wasn't the type to watch any sort of romantic comedy. She shrugged and added, "You probably wouldn't like it – it's a rom-com. When I said I didn't wanna watch somethin' scary, I didn't mean we had t'watch a _chick_ _flick_."

Daryl scoffed and smirked. "Can't be _that_ much of a chick flick if it's Adam Sandler. 'Sides, I pretty much already watched all the good movies on here."

Beth smiled, raising her eyebrows in surprise. She was half-sarcastic when she replied, "Okay – well, play it."

He nodded and pressed the Play button, and they quickly got comfortable together, cuddling closer and relaxing into the soft cushions of the couch. Daryl wrapped an arm around Beth's shoulders and held her close against him while the movie played. Whenever he chuckled, she could hear it from his chest first. And every time she did, her heart did a little cartwheel. She smiled to herself and snuggled into him, drifting away on their tiny, personal island where nothing else existed except the movie playing before them and the couch they were lying on.

By the time the credits began rolling, they were wrapped up in each other, kissing slowly. Daryl's hands were on the back of Beth's head as she lay atop him, her arms around him and her hands tucked between his back and the couch cushion. They didn't notice that the credits were over for a few minutes, when the total silence finally caught their attention.

Beth broke their kiss and glanced around, then giggled quietly to herself before climbing off of Daryl and sitting up to stretch. He groaned in protest but did the same, grabbing the remote and turning the TV back to a cable channel at low volume.

"You laughed a few times, so did you actually like it?" She asked with a playful smile.

He gave her his lazy half-smile and a brief nod. "Wasn't bad. I'd prob'ly watch it again – maybe by myself, though, so I could actually see how it ended."

She giggled and chewed on her lower lip impishly, then he snaked an arm around her waist to pull her in close, kissing the side of her neck softly and causing her to giggle again. But she didn't pull away, tilting her head to the side and leaning into him as the feeling of his lips sent shivers down her side, goosebumps forming up and down one leg.

"How much longer we gotta wait again…?" He whispered against her skin, planting more tiny kisses.

Beth groaned in frustration, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him in closer. "Like, nine days. Give or take."

Daryl grunted and let his lips linger on her throat, then pulled back and sighed. "It'll be worth it – I mean, the makin' out ain't bad, but – "

"Kinda makes ya want… _more_ ," she finished for him.

He smirked. "Yeah, exactly. You been takin' the antibiotics, right?"

She nodded. "'Course."

He nodded in return and glanced away from her, toward the clock. She could see the exhaustion on his face and she wanted to suggest that they both retire to the bedroom for some sleep. But she could also see that he had something else on his mind, and maybe the mention of how much longer they had to wait until she was healed had reminded him of something. She wasn't sure, but he appeared contemplative for a moment while they were both silent. Then he turned his head back toward her, arm still lazily wrapped around her middle, and licked his lips.

"So, nine days from now… what should we do?" Daryl asked quietly. "You back on the Pill, or…?"

Beth quirked an eyebrow and said, "Well, I bought some condoms, I kinda jus' planned on… that."

He shrugged. "That's cool, but what if it breaks?"

She gave him a quizzical look. "Well – I dunno. I got some birth control pills from the clinic, like samples, but… I didn't know if I wanted t'take 'em."

Daryl was studying her, narrowing his eyes briefly, then he asked, "So, you – lied about bein' on the Pill?"

Beth's heart skipped anxiously and she froze for a second, blinking in surprise. "What?"

He still appeared to be studying her, working something out in his head, and his arm was gradually loosening from around her middle as he leaned back. "You… I asked ya what the deal was, 'member? An' you said you were on the Pill. So… were you even on it t'begin with?"

Her lips parted but she didn't have anything to say. She stared back at Daryl, searching his face and realizing he expected an answer.

"No," she finally breathed out, and it hung in the air between them as he tried to decipher it.

"No…?" He repeated, as if he were struggling to process that she'd just admitted to lying. His eyes narrowed again and he withdrew his arms back to his sides, pulling back a bit and looking at her as he said, "What if you hadn't been pregnant – what if I'd knocked ya up? You told me – "

"I already knew I was pregnant," she interrupted.

There was no other logical thing to do except tell him the truth, come clean about at least one of the lies she'd weaved. There was no use in covering this part up anyway – he already knew most of the truth. He'd seen the black eye, he knew about the abortion, and he was smart enough to piece most of it together. It didn't affect her criminal case in any way. She'd just hoped that it wouldn't come up, because she was sick of thinking about it and talking about it, and she was exhausted with reliving it. But there was no escaping this white lie. She knew, now that she and Daryl were together, something like this was completely unacceptable.

For a second, she feared this was just a small taste of what was to come if he figured out what else she'd lied about.

To her surprise, he seemed more ready to hear her out than she would've thought. His mouth opened again as if to say something, but quickly closed as he mulled over his words, glancing her up and down for a second. Then he asked, "So why'd you lie? Why didn't you jus' tell me?"

Beth sighed but didn't break their eye contact. "'Cause I couldn't even tell _myself_ … I knew it, but I didn't wanna admit it. I didn't – I didn't really think about it."

"No, you _didn't_ ," Daryl snapped, and she winced slightly at the sharpness of his words. "What if you had some kinda disease? Wouldn'ta told me that either?"

She furrowed her brow and tried not to sound as defensive as she felt. "Daryl – I got tested, I don't _have_ anything. I'm sorry I lied – I know it was wrong. It was stupid. But… nothin' _happened_. I jus' – "

"'Cept you don't _know_ that," he argued. "Ain't even about that – it's the fact you _lied_. I never woulda done it raw like that if I thought you'd lie about bein' on the Pill – "

"You weren't exactly _insistent_ on protection either – don't forget that," Beth snapped, growing more defensive while she struggled to keep her voice hushed. "We were _both_ caught up in the moment. I don't _have_ anything an' I already knew I was pregnant – literally _all_ I was missin' was the _fourteen_ positive pregnancy tests t'confirm it."

Daryl pursed his lips and she could see all the racing thoughts behind his dark eyes as he leaned away from her, the physical distance between them mirroring the emotional distance she was beginning to feel. Then he rumbled, "I thought yer pregnancy was some kinda Pill fuck-up, but you were never even on it in the _first_ place. Might not a caught anythin', but how d'you know that bastard you were with didn't leave ya with somethin' serious? Obviously you weren't usin' protection – "

She had wanted to explain it to him vaguely, so that she wouldn't have to rehash the disgusting details. But now he was assuming things about her that were just plain wrong. Yes, she knew the pregnancy was mostly her own fault. But to say that she had done _nothing_ to prevent it? She'd never been _that_ irresponsible.

The words burst out of her before she could stop them or rethink them, cutting Daryl off in the middle of his sentence as she struggled to keep her voice from rising. "The condom _broke_ , okay? We didn't – I didn't _want_ it t'happen. I _knew_ it broke, I asked him to stop – but he didn't. He couldn't – he didn't _want_ to. And then it was too late. I didn't do anythin' to stop it, I know. It's my own fault I got pregnant… But I was _never_ irresponsible like that. I might not have been on the Pill, but we _always_ used a condom, and I _never_ had any scares before… _that_."

Daryl blinked, clearly taken by surprise at her words. Beth's eyes widened slightly, surprised at her own voice, and she quickly shut her mouth. She'd been so fired up a second ago, so ready to defend herself. But now that she was seeing Daryl's reaction, watching him process what she'd said, she was deeply regretting having let it all slip out.

Then he narrowed his eyes, studying her even harder than he had been before. He was no longer leaning away from her, but he wasn't moving closer to her either. He licked his lips and slowly opened his mouth and spoke, his voice quiet and hesitant, "You… asked him ta stop. And… he didn't?"

She nodded, biting down gently on her tongue and holding back any other outbursts that might've wanted to slip out. Her eyes were locked on his, unwavering. She kept thinking about how Jimmy had reacted when she'd dared to utter the word _rape_ aloud. She had a feeling this would be similar. She could already tell she'd said too much – what if he thought she was absolutely abhorrent now?

An expression that resembled disbelief mixed with disgust crossed his face, and for a second she thought it was towards her. But then he rumbled, "That's – rape. You told 'im the condom broke, an' he finished anyway? Even though you told him ta _stop…_?"

Beth nodded again, heart speeding up inside her chest as she stared back at Daryl. Again, his reaction was catching her off-guard. She wasn't sure what she was hearing right now – did he think she was lying? Or was he going to try to give her the same spiel Carol had given? Was he even more disgusted with her for lying _and_ allowing herself to get knocked up? She couldn't even tell if he was still angry.

"I'm sorry," she finally choked out, finding her voice again and allowing it to escape her mouth. Whether he was still mad or not, she wanted to apologize, to at least _try_ to explain. "I didn't mean t'lie. It – I wasn't sure what t'do…"

Daryl blinked and shook his head, looking away from Beth for a short moment. He seemed to be trying to make sense of something in his head. He licked his lips and asked, "It's – fine. I mean… it's not _fine_ that you lied. But yer right, I didn't _insist_ on protection either. An' if you say it wasn't intentional… Not like – I can't understand why ya didn't wanna talk about it. I jus'… I told you already, ya don't gotta _lie_ ta me – or hide anything. I don't _want_ ya to."

She nodded, forcing back tears that were burning at the back of her throat. She swallowed painfully, watching him as he stroked his chin hair thoughtfully, lips parted as though he wanted to say something more. He gazed off at the open window, then looked at her again and leaned the slightest bit toward her.

"Gettin' pregnant – you know that ain't really _yer_ fault, right?" He rumbled.

Her heart thumped hard inside her chest, and her mouth formed the words almost mechanically. "We were together – it wasn't _rape_. What he did mighta been wrong, but I didn't do anything to _stop_ him. I shoulda left him way before that – when he started… changing. I-I coulda fought back, I coulda done more. It was… my own fault."

 _Haven't I been over this enough with Jimmy, with Carol, with myself_? She thought. _I know – I know I fucked up, I was stupid and thought I was in love. I just wanna move on from it already._

Daryl furrowed his brow and gave her an incredulous look. "That ain't how this works. He's a piece a shit, plain an' simple. You don't _hurt_ somebody you claim ta love, an' you sure as hell don't keep fuckin' 'em when they tell you ta _stop_ … I _know_ yer smarter than that, an' maybe yer in denial about it like you were about bein' pregnant, but it was rape. An' it sure as hell ain't yer _fault_."

Beth swallowed hard and looked down at her lap, unable to meet Daryl's eyes at the moment. She suddenly felt embarrassed and ashamed. It was so stupid, though – he sounded just like Carol. Maybe they'd been spending too much time together. She couldn't think of any other reason he'd feel the need to say these things to her. And what had happened to his anger? Was it gone, just like that? At this point, she'd rather see him angry at her than feeling pity for her.

But she couldn't see any pity on his face or in his eyes. He was looking at her with something like a new understanding. Other than that, he only seemed to be upset – not quite angry anymore, but frustrated, maybe. Either at her or just the world in general. There was still a trace of disgust in his expression and Beth wasn't sure if he was disgusted with what Jimmy had done or with her. Maybe a little of both. She could admit that she was pretty disgusted with herself lately, too.

She shook her head and mumbled, "You sound like Carol…"

Daryl grunted and she lifted her eyes to see him give a brief head nod of agreement, looking down his nose at her for a moment. "Yeah – 'cause she's right. If ya told her what you told me, I can't see her sayin' anything else."

Beth had no argument for Daryl's statement. Her mouth was dry and she wished she had more tea.

After a long moment of silence, and once he realized she wasn't going to say anything, he leaned a tiny bit closer to her with apprehension and rumbled, "He gave you that black eye – right?"

She nodded, lips pursed, frozen where she sat. Their faces were only about a foot or two apart, but he felt far away after being pressed closely against her for the last couple of hours.

"He do that kinda shit all the time? Beat ya, force ya t'do stuff in bed?" He asked quietly.

Beth sighed and shook her head, closing her eyes for a long blink. She pushed away images of Jimmy that wanted to appear in the black of her eyelids, staring ahead at Daryl instead. It steadied her pulse just the slightest bit.

Ignoring the flips her stomach was doing, she replied quietly, "No – not till the end… After the – um, broken condom… we got in a big fight. I wanted t'break up. He threatened ta kill us both. I fought him off but… He never woulda hit me or – or done _any_ a that stuff if he'd been sober."

And that, Beth knew, was the full truth. There was no need to lie about this. Jimmy was long gone, and so were the possibilities of any repercussions from him. Unfortunately, he would not soon be forgotten.

"Oh," Daryl said, realization crossing his face. "Drugs."

She nodded with pursed lips, confirming his assumption and staring back at his dark blue eyes as he studied her under a new light.

"Kinda sounds like my brother. Not that we experienced any a the same… _bullshit_. But I know how that shit can make somebody act," he rumbled.

She glanced away for a split-second, overwhelmed by the look in his eyes and the deep pit of grief that was beginning to open wider at the bottom of her stomach, resisting the urge to look down towards the scar that she knew was hidden beneath his shirt. But then his gaze softened and he blinked, sighing so quietly that she barely noticed it.

"I ain't really one ta talk," he said softly, leaning in another inch. "But… ya can't blame yerself fer _everythin'_. Sometimes, shit jus' happens _to_ you. Not because of you, not t'teach you a lesson – an' it don't mean you did anythin' ta deserve it, or cause it…"

Without hesitation, Beth whispered back, "But I didn't do anything to _stop_ it…"

Daryl stared into her eyes unblinkingly, and she didn't know why, but another look of realization crossed his face, if only briefly. He pressed his lips tightly together, then parted them and said softly, "Sometimes you can't... Jus' can't. Never could. I know it ain't easy to admit. Trust me – _I_ _know_."

She stared back with wide eyes, taking in his words, her lips absent-mindedly parted.

After a couple seconds of silence, he rumbled, "I'm still tryin' ta learn that one, already told ya I'm not really one ta be preachin' about it. But… I'll tell ya every day, if I gotta… Maybe we can learn it together. Eventually."

Beth felt like the rest of the world outside of her and Daryl on that couch had drifted away. She stared into his intensely focused eyes, processing his words and trying to figure out if he was being serious or not. Something about what he said, though, and the way he'd said it had brought her a new comfort. Like maybe Carol hadn't been quite as full of shit as Beth had originally thought. Like maybe she didn't have to walk around and carry these impossibly heavy loads of guilt everywhere. Like maybe Daryl wasn't trying to push her into the deep end of the pool to learn how to swim, but instead, he was slowly wading out into the water, waiting for her and offering her a lifejacket and his support.

"Aren't you… still mad?" She asked hesitantly, holding her breath as she watched his face and awaited his response.

He blinked slowly, thoughtfully, and let out a soft sigh. Then he shrugged and rumbled, "It's not like I don't get it – I've done shit like that when I was… havin' a hard time dealin'."

She nodded feebly in understanding, silently grateful that he'd been more understanding than she'd expected.

Then he continued, "But – I got nothin' ta hide… I know you don't either, but I also know there's a lotta shit ya ain't tryin' t'deal with right now, or talk about. That's alrigh' – long as it don't affect me somehow, then you got no obligation t'tell me... An' as far as all that goes, let's jus'… plan on takin' some more precautions when the time comes. One kid is enough fer me. 'Least fer right now."

Beth didn't miss his last few words, but she chose to ignore them. She gave him a weak smile and then he had a small smirk of his own.

A few seconds later, he was leaning in again, closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around her middle. Their lips met and they kissed softer than before, deeper, with a new understanding that they could both sense.

He pulled away from her momentarily, and when she opened her eyes to gaze up at him quizzically, he was staring down into her eyes with a solemn expression. His arm tightened around her waist, their bodies pressed close together.

"Better hope he never comes lookin' for ya," Daryl growled. "'Cause I'll _kill_ him."

Beth's heart skipped and she nodded, giving him a weak smile before pressing her mouth to his again, closing her eyes and breathing in his comforting smell.

 _I wish I could tell you it's not Jimmy that I'm afraid of finding me,_ she thought longingly, slipping her tongue between his lips _. I wish I could tell you that Jimmy already paid the ultimate price for everything he did._

They kissed for a while longer, whispering quiet apologies and comforting words against open mouths and the tender skin between earlobes and chests. Beth tried to ignore the aching in her gut that urged her to come clean, to pour out her darkest secret to Daryl right there on the couch, in the dim glow of the TV, with his arms wrapped around her and his lips pressed against her throat. A tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away before Daryl could lift his head to notice. She grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him up to meet her lips, kissing him greedily. Inside her head, she'd told him the truth about everything in at least five different ways. But there wasn't a single way that ended with him understanding, or ever kissing her like this again. Or at all.

With the night growing later, they finally agreed that they were both tired and ready for bed. Daryl briefly checked in on Mal to make sure he was still sleeping soundly before joining Beth in her bed, leaving the bedroom door half-open while they cuddled close beneath the blankets.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders while she rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slowing and beating steadier and more evenly. She was sleepy, but her mind was still jumbled from the day in its entirety. She told herself that she'd have to make another trip to the river soon, that she'd eventually muster up the courage and find the right spot to dump the Beretta. When her thoughts began drifting toward Jenny Jones and the court case, she started tracing shapes with her fingertips across Daryl's bare stomach beneath the blanket.

He squirmed and grunted, causing Beth to giggle softly and stop her fingers' movements.

"Ain't ya tired?" He rumbled.

She shrugged against him and rested her hand on his stomach. She mumbled, "Yes, and no… Can't stop thinkin'."

"'Bout what?" Daryl asked softly.

"I'ono," Beth replied quietly, sifting through the stack of answers she had to choose from – there was more than one thing on her mind. But not a lot that she could really share with him yet. "Y'know Clem's gonna tell everybody, so you might wanna get ready for all… _that_."

He grunted, a sleepy half-chuckle. "Y'mean all the shit they're gonna give us? Yeah, I already figured."

She smiled weakly to herself and snuggled closer against him, thankful that he didn't seem to mind the attention they'd be getting from the others. Though she wasn't positive he was quite as prepared for Carol's reaction. But Beth didn't think she was ready to deal with that either. She didn't know exactly what to expect, but she knew there'd be at least one long lecture in there somewhere.

When she didn't say anything for a long moment, Daryl asked quietly, "Y'ain't actually worried…?"

She shook her head against him. "No – not about them."

His arm tightened around her shoulders and he muttered knowingly, "Don't worry 'bout it – Carol's jus' overprotective. She's more worried 'bout Mal than anything… She just… don't know you like I do."

Beth blinked back tears that were stinging her eyes and threatening to escape. She lifted her head up from Daryl's chest, leaning up on her elbow and gazing down at Daryl in the darkness. He looked back at her quizzically with heavy eyelids.

"Daryl, there's – there's some stuff I _can't_ … tell you. Yet," she whispered out, swallowing back more tears.

He furrowed his brow but nodded, a look of understanding in his eyes. "I know."

She stared back, watching him study her face, even in his sleepy haze, trying to figure out why she was so distressed by something that he thought was already made clear.

"I _will_ tell you everything… eventually," she whispered. Promised.

He shrugged. "Ain't a big deal – there's shit I still don't talk about... Some things ain't _worth_ talkin' about. Better off in the past, where they belong."

Beth nodded and laid her head on Daryl's chest again, relaxing against him once more and trying to clear her head with the sound of his heartbeat.

 _In the past, where it belongs,_ she repeated in her head. _If only this were all in the past. If only Jimmy hadn't died in jail. If only Shane Walsh's murder weren't an active case. If only…_

After several long moments of silence and stillness, her fingers began tracing shapes on his bare stomach again, causing him to squirm and grunt in protest.

"Go ta sleep," he rumbled, and she could feel the vibration from his voice in his chest.

She sighed melodramatically. "Maybe _I_ need a bedtime story…"

He chuckled quietly. "Jeez, what y'all think I am, a damn story factory?"

She giggled and poked him in the stomach playfully, and he grabbed her wrist to gently hold it down, suppressing his laughter. Then she shrugged and relaxed into him again.

"Maybe I jus' wanna hear how that story you were tellin' Mal ends," she said quietly.

"Oh – you _were_ listenin' ta that," he grunted.

"Couldn't help it. Yer a great storyteller," she chuckled.

He scoffed and went quiet for a moment. When his voice came out, it was heavy with sleep. "Most a the stories don't got an end. He always falls asleep 'fore I have ta make one up."

Beth smiled to herself, imagining how many nights Daryl had spent telling a half-story at Mal's bedside while the toddler drifted off to sleep within minutes of lying down. She said, "Oh… well, it sounded like a good story. I was pretty enthralled."

He grunted, a sleepy half-chuckle. " _Heh_ … What was it? The warrior or somethin'…?"

She smirked to herself again, snuggling closer against him and nodding. "Yeah."

There was a few seconds of silence, and she thought he might've drifted off. But then his voice came out again, deep and drawling, just loud enough for her to hear. "Right – so she ran away from the village… an' the shithead that fucked her over. She ran till she didn't know where she was, and nobody knew who she was… An' she runs inta this dude. He ain't a prince or nothin' like that – just a normal dude, mindin' his own business. But he can tell she's a warrior, so he can't say no ta helpin' her, ya know?"

Beth nodded against Daryl's chest, listening intently to every word as his voice drawled out slowly and leisurely. She was grinning non-stop, but her face was turned away from him and it was too dark to see anyway, which she was grateful for.

"So then," he continued, pausing to sigh deeply before speaking slower and more sleepily as he went on. "They fell fer each other an' lived happily ever after."

She furrowed her brow and let out a quiet laugh. "What – that's _it_?"

He chuckled. "Well, the asshole from the first village sent some goons after her, but she fought 'em off, an' the normal dude helped her… An' then she realized she was a warrior, but it didn't matter 'cause she already won the battle... So, she settled down an' had a couple kids, an' they all came out with the same warrior blood... An' _then_ they lived happily ever after. The end."

Beth was still smiling. "Okay – I guess that's better."

Daryl grunted in reply.

Not even a minute later, his breathing was steady and she could tell that he'd finally drifted off to a deep sleep. Beth listened to his heartbeat, felt his chest rising and falling beneath her head. She was still battling to clear her mind of all the intrusive thoughts that liked to haunt her at night, trying her hardest to replace them with enjoyable images. And a few minutes later, while imagining Daryl in a medieval prince outfit, she fell asleep.

 **to be continued…**


	47. i thought of just your face

_**i thought of just your face**_

When Beth awoke on Tuesday morning, she had faint memories of Daryl nudging her awake in the predawn hours and kissing her goodbye. The apartment was silent again, though it was flooded with morning sunlight, and the smell of coffee, eggs, and toast was still drifting through the air. Once she'd adjusted to being awake, she reached over and grabbed her phone to find a lot more notifications than she usually had – most of them were texts from the girls. She read the overview of messages on her notifications screen:

 _ **Clementine (8:36 am):**_ _So you guys are official right? Like boyfriend and girlfriend?  
_ _ **Rosita (8:42 am):**_ _OMG YOU AND DARYL REALLY ARE ?!  
_ _ **Clementine (8:43 am):**_ _Cuz I'm telling everybody lmao  
_ _ **Clementine (8:54 am):**_ _So did Carol know this whole time?  
_ _ **Tara (9:03 am):**_ _You and Daryl ARE banging?! DUUUDE… :D_

Rolling her eyes, Beth opened the messages and typed out replies, smirking to herself as she confirmed that it was true and sarcastically thanked Clem for the slew of questions and exclamation points from the other girls. She also assured her that Carol only knew as much as the others – which meant she pretty much knew but probably didn't expect to hear them calling each other pet names any time soon.

Or did she? Beth wasn't really sure anymore, to be honest. Carol seemed to acknowledge the fact that Daryl and "Rosie" were growing closer than they'd intended, and that they also had no intentions of slowing down. And although she'd seemed to be attempting to talk Daryl into thinking twice about the situation, or spook "Rosie" into second-guessing her place in Daryl's life, she also seemed to understand that she couldn't do anything to stop two adults from doing what they wanted to do. Though she made a lot of good points about the healing process and the side effects of Beth's self-medicating habits, it also made Beth wonder how she thought she had any room to talk. Beth was only three weeks past escaping the pile of rubble and ash that had become of her entire life, and if she was still dealing with the fallout from that, simply trying to escape the pain before facing it head-on, then who was Carol to judge? _She_ was certainly still dealing with the fallout of her marriage with Ed, especially when it came to Sophia, so it wasn't like she was a stranger to bad habits. Did she think Beth would just snap out of it, convince herself that she was no good for Daryl and Mal and just leave them? What kind of endgame was she hoping for here? Or maybe Carol just liked to test people. She certainly wouldn't be the first person Beth had met who liked doing that.

After a quick scroll through the usual news sites and the reassurance that there was nothing new to report on her family's case (or in Jenny Jones' investigation), Beth got out of bed and proceeded with her usual morning routine: bathroom, antibiotic, coffee, quick shower, a little grooming, breakfast, more coffee. While she sat and ate, the TV playing sitcom reruns at a low volume, she kept busy with more text messages from the girls. She was still a bit surprised at their reactions, but she had to admit it was nice. She'd never really known what it was like to have friends that supported her relationship and wanted to offer encouraging words. She tried not to think about what they might say if they knew the _full_ truth.

Once her phone had gone quiet and the rest of the coffee was cold, she made herself some lunch and closed the door to her bedroom so that the Beretta in the drawer would stop taunting her. Even as she sat at the table and ate, staring out the window at the overcast sky, dark clouds lingering from the day before, she could practically feel it sitting inside the bag. The morning's fog had evaporated and vanished hours ago, but an autumn chill was in the breeze that wafted through the apartment, along with the heaviness of humidity. The hints of ocean air didn't help to make Beth's lunch go down any easier, as thoughts of the gun kept creeping to the forefront of her mind. But the idea of leaving the apartment again, wandering back to the East River, made her anxious and finicky. She thought about waiting until nightfall, but how would she explain that to Daryl? It would seem awfully suspicious of her to want to go anywhere alone past dark, unless she wanted to try sneaking out again like she had to meet Jesus. And at this point, she wasn't sure she had the willpower to slip out of Daryl's arms at night and leave the apartment while he slept.

She knew she was making excuses for herself. But there was no one around to call her out on it. Without guidance from Maggie or her daddy, she had no one to point out when she was pushing things off or making bad decisions. She just had to figure it out on her own – the hard way. But it also meant no one to stop her from doing whatever _she_ felt was best. And what better way to learn than from your own mistakes?

 _Probably from Maggie's,_ her logical side piped up. _And Daddy's. And Shawn's…_

She tossed the last few bites of her lunch, suddenly finding the food to be bland and difficult to swallow. She tried to distract herself with cleaning up the kitchen and looking forward to seeing Daryl and Mal. She was even considering going to Carol's just for the sake of spending some time with Mal. But she decided against it and chose, instead, to settle in to the couch with a mug of hot tea and a book.

It was still early afternoon when her phone vibrated with a text from Daryl that simply told her he had dinner covered and that he was counting down the hours until he got home. She smiled and texted back a reply with the same sentiment, amazed at how fluttery her stomach had gotten at nothing more than a text message.

Beth had only gotten a few more chapters into the book after Daryl's text message when there was a knock at the front door. She set the book down and went to the peephole, standing up on tiptoes and peering out with one eye. Carol was standing in front of the door, waiting patiently. With a small sigh of relief, Beth opened the door and greeted the older woman with a polite smile.

"Hey there," Carol smiled back warmly. "Did I interrupt anything?"

Beth shook her head. "No, I was just reading. What's up?"

"Just needed t'grab some of Mal's juice," Carol explained, and Beth stepped aside to let her enter the apartment while she spoke, closing the door behind them. "I ran out at my place an' I don't really wanna go all the way to the store right now, but I promised he could have some after his nap. So I'd better deliver."

She moved to the fridge as she spoke, opening the door and reaching in to grab a small jug of juice from the shelf. Beth nodded and watched her as she closed the fridge again and made her way back toward the front door, juice in hand. But she stopped a few feet in front of Beth.

"That – all you needed?" Beth asked awkwardly, unsure of why the older woman was suddenly looking her up and down.

Carol nodded, but didn't move toward the door. Then she shrugged and said, "Wanted t'check on you, too. I know we talked at the park, but I just wanted t'make sure you're not… making any _rash_ decisions. You know, it's still a – kind of, _intermediate_ time for you. Between what you got away from, the pregnancy... Everything."

Beth's heart sped up a little and she looked down at her socks, fighting the urge to fiddle with the edge of the bandana around her wrist.

 _No beating around the bush today,_ she thought.

She knew what this was really about. She wasn't stupid. But she still couldn't tell if Carol genuinely cared about her, or if she just cared about how "Rosie" was going to affect Daryl and Mal. Would she actually bat an eye if Beth had a mental breakdown or tried to kill herself again? Or would she only be angry that "Rosie" would put Daryl through something like that?

She looked back up to Carol's eyes, trying to keep her face as stoic as possible. " _Rash_ decisions? Like…"

Carol quirked an eyebrow and they shared a knowing look. Her voice came out a bit lower, quieter. "Daryl told me this morning. I know it _could_ be a… good thing. For all three of you."

Beth's heart skipped. She didn't waiver under Carol's penetrating gaze, urging her softly, "But…?"

Carol pursed her lips briefly, then said, "But… I've already told you what I think. And you're an adult – you are your _own_ person. So is Daryl. You'll both do what you feel is right, no matter what other people might say. I know that's _especially_ true for Daryl… an' I'm starting t'see that you two have more in common than I originally thought."

Beth had to fight to hold back the smallest smile at the last sentence. Though she knew that 'stubborn' wasn't always the best thing to be. Not as a Greene, anyway. She wondered if the same had ever rang true for Dixon's.

She blinked and gave the slightest shrug. "It was his idea, honestly. I wasn't tryin' ta push him into anything, or make it more serious than he wanted it ta be. But… I think it _is_ good. For all three of us."

Carol stared down into Beth's eyes and nodded lightly, lips pressed closely together again. Then she raised her eyebrows and asked, "And you guys talk? About where you're at mentally – _both_ of you?"

Beth hesitated, studying Carol's face and nodding slowly. She paused and thought about her response, then answered, "Sometimes. I know that's – important, but why… does it matter?"

… _To you?_ She finished silently. _I still can't figure out if you're on my side or against me._

The older woman gave her a look that said she should already know. Then she said, "Because that's half of being in a relationship with someone. I know there's a lot of things you think you can't tell me – but that's not the case with him. You _have_ to talk. Learn to be healthy together, to heal… And it's most important for _you_ to learn how t'be yourself with someone else, without feeling the need to hide or suppress anything… Know what I mean?"

Beth pursed her lips and nodded, shrinking under Carol's gaze. The older woman had tried to lighten her voice a little towards the end, and Beth interpreted it as her signal that she didn't mean ill. But she also knew that Carol wasn't going to hide how she really felt, even if that feeling somehow offended anyone else. Beth tried to sound confident as she said, "I'm workin' on it."

Carol raised her eyebrows again but didn't seem completely satisfied with that answer. She shifted her weight, moving the jug of juice from one hand to the other as she glanced away from Beth's eyes briefly, her own eyes softening when their gazes met again. Then she said quietly, "He is, too, ya know. I don't think you realize how – _little_ he talks to everyone. Like I've said before, he's an island of a man. He puts up a wall that keeps people from gettin' too close, but it also keeps him isolated. And he's gotten really good at putting on a happy mask… That's why – you might think I'm _prying_ , but I know him. I know what he does, an' that's why I won't let him shut me out like he does with everyone else."

Beth nodded, watching Carol choose her words carefully as she spoke. She swallowed past a small knot in her throat and bit back any sort of retorts, stopping herself from growing defensive when there was no need for it. She knew the other woman was making valid points, yet she couldn't help but feel like she was listening to a broken record. She almost had the urge to roll her eyes. Did Carol really think she was so stupid, so childish or naïve, to not be aware of these things? As if she hadn't spent the last two-plus weeks talking with Daryl, getting to know him, learning his habits? She might not have known him as well as Carol yet, but he was already beginning to feel familiar to her, and she learned more about him every day. What kind of things did Carol think Beth would learn that she hadn't already assumed or figured out from context? Or did she think "Rosie" would hurt Daryl and cause him to retreat into himself in a way that she could never reach him again?

The annoyance Beth felt must've shown through on her face, or maybe she just wasn't as good at keeping a solemn and stoic expression as she'd thought.

"You can't use him as a crutch, emotional or otherwise," Carol said flatly, eyes boring into Beth's. "Maybe you don't realize what you're doing – you're still young, your perception of healthy relationships is skewed. But you can't use another human being as the bandage for your wounds. He's still wrapping himself up – he can't take on your emotional weight, too… He has a child, Rosie. That child will be hurt, too – "

"Okay, this isn't like you an' Ed," Beth interrupted, unable to hold back this time and feeling the need to defend herself. "I'm not gonna _hurt_ them – I have no intention of doin' anything but being here for Daryl. _And_ Mal. That was half a what we talked about. He told me I could leave – he gave me the chance ta cut things off. But I don't _want_ to. They mean a lot to me, an' I'll do whatever I can ta stay with them. And keep them safe, jus' like Daryl keeps _me_ safe."

Carol blinked, appearing a bit taken aback by Beth's defensive response. But she didn't appear angry, or completely unconvinced. Though she didn't appear completely _convinced_ either. She quirked an eyebrow and said, "Me an' Ed's relationship was – a completely different story. I understand, you think this is how you'll always feel about him, but when things start t'get serious – "

Beth felt a little anger flaring up inside her, almost feeling like she was sitting in that chair in her daddy's study again, listening to him and Maggie lecture her. She tried to push it back down, but she didn't stop herself from interrupting again. "Okay, but it had a pretty… _big_ effect on Sophia. An' you guys are _still_ healing from it. And how long ago was that? …I've only been out for three _weeks_. I'm still… figurin' out what it means to _be_ my own person. Don't try ta lecture me on choosin' ta be my own person at the _right_ _times_ – I know, okay? I… You know Daryl. If he thought I was usin' him as a crutch, he'd _say_ somethin'. He'd call me out on it."

Carol frowned briefly and sighed so quietly that Beth almost didn't hear it. Then she said, "How would he know when he's just as blinded by infatuation as you are?"

Beth's heart skipped and she had to make a conscious effort to keep her mouth shut, preventing her jaw from dropping. Is that what Carol thought this was? _Infatuation_?

Then again, who was Beth to argue? It could be. She didn't know the first thing about love, outside of familial. Jimmy had fucked up her entire perception by the end of their shit-storm relationship. Maybe she didn't actually have the first idea about recognizing a good guy when she saw him… maybe she was actually turning into the next Jimmy, luring Daryl into her trap just to swallow him up and spit him out as nothing more than the shell of a former person. Or maybe she'd picked up all the wrong habits from Daddy, and it had completely warped her perception of love and compassion and what it really means to be _safe_ and to sacrifice for the benefit of another.

Or maybe Carol was just assuming that she knew both Daryl and Beth better than she really did.

Beth licked her lips, arms hanging loosely at her sides while one hand picked at a thread on her pants as she stared up into Carol's piercing blue gaze. She lowered her defenses, and her voice, just a bit and said, "I don't… think it's infatuation. And we're not blinded. We know what we're gettin' into."

Carol quirked an eyebrow again, and Beth wasn't sure if she was _trying_ to appear intimidating or if it just came naturally to her. Then she said, "So you've talked about what might happen if… it _doesn't_ work out?"

Beth nodded. "Yeah. Definitely."

She recalled the multiple times Daryl had voiced his prediction that they'd get sick of each other, and though she couldn't actually see it happening, she wasn't about to discredit it. They'd both agreed that they could part ways eventually, if things didn't turn out how they intended. She wished Carol would stop treating them like a couple of teenagers in high school. She could already imagine how angry Daryl would be if he could hear the things Carol was saying. But Beth didn't want to get him involved when she knew this was between her and Carol – though she couldn't blame Carol. The woman cared about Daryl and Mal, she was only looking out for them, trying to prevent any unnecessary hurt. Beth wouldn't discredit that, either.

Carol scratched her forehead and looked down at the floor thoughtfully for a second, then met Beth's eyes again and said, "Right… I understand this is a kind of – therapy for both of you. I think Daryl's probably opened up to you more in two weeks than I could _ever_ get him to open up to me, or anyone else. An' that's fine – it's still good for him. I just… I worry. I wanna make sure neither of you are putting your mental states at risk. There's… a lot ta be considered here."

 _A lot more than you could ever know,_ Beth thought. She nodded and chewed on the inside of her cheek.

After a long pause, Carol continued softly, "The thing about that wall that Daryl puts up… it keeps him safe. And I know he makes you _feel_ safe, but you're gonna have to remember that, at the end of the day… it's about him and Malachi. _No_ _one_ else. He'll push you off that wall just as quickly as he'd push me, or Rosita, or whoever else. If it meant protecting himself and his son… he wouldn't give it a second thought."

Beth swallowed hard, watching the shadow of some emotion she couldn't quite pinpoint appear in Carol's intense, blue gaze. A heaviness formed in her gut and she wasn't sure why. What was Carol trying to tell her? What did she expect Beth to say?

It seemed as though Carol were giving Beth brief chances to speak. The older woman's voice grew quieter, still soft, as she paused to lick her lips before going on. "I've… _done_ things. That I'm not proud of. I'm sure the same goes for Daryl, even if he doesn't talk about the gory details. And… I'm sure you have, too. I know what it takes, sometimes, to escape… To survive. It's not pretty."

Beth narrowed her eyes but continued chewing on her cheek, tasting coppery blood on her tongue as she listened intently.

"And there are some things that… you can _never_ talk about," Carol said, and her voice was barely louder than a whisper by now. Beth glanced down, just for a split-second, at the older woman's hand and saw that her knuckles were white from clutching the jug of juice so tightly as she spoke. "But then there are some things that… will catch up with you. You might think they're so awful that no one will ever understand… Let me tell you, that's _not_ true."

Beth's heart was hammering against the inside of her chest. But she refused to break eye contact, refused to shrink any smaller under Carol's intimidating aura.

 _I'm misinterpreting things,_ she told herself. _She doesn't know. She can't._

Carol paused again, studying Beth's face, but she didn't seem to be getting the response she was hoping for. Her voice remained soft and quiet when she spoke again, "I know it feels like you can't trust anyone with the truth because you were taught not to give anyone anything that could be used against you – or used t'hurt you."

" _Deny, deny, deny,"_ Maggie's voice was repeating at the back of Beth's head.

"What makes you think that?" Beth's voice came out a bit hoarse but she didn't look away from Carol as she said it.

Carol raised her eyebrows and gave Beth a quick once-over with her eyes, then said, "Because that's what I was taught, too. So was Daryl. It's one of those vital pieces in each of our walls. It's easy to spot once you recognize it."

Beth bit down on her lower lip and finally looked down at her socks, unable to return Carol's penetrating gaze at the moment.

"But Daryl is _not_ the person to hide that from," Carol continued, voice softening again. "And the longer you wait… the _worse_ it will be. He can understand wanting t'be careful. But he'll only see that you never fully trusted him… He's the kind of person who needs t'know that they had their own choice, and that they made it themselves – or else he'll walk away, because he'll decide that he was never _given_ a choice. You made it _for_ him. And he'll never forgive you for that... It's part of the life he's worked so hard to leave behind."

Beth pushed past the heaviness in her gut and the growing knot in her throat, lifting her head and meeting Carol's eyes again. She spoke quietly, as well, but her voice didn't come out nearly as soft. "What exactly d'you think I'm _hiding_? You seem awfully sure that I'm lyin' about somethin'… _real_ bad. An' I'd _love_ t'know what you think I mighta been capable of, besides runnin' for my life from a sociopath."

Carol quirked her eyebrow again and it made Beth's stomach turn with anxiety. Then she said, "I don't think you _did_ anything. I'm not accusing you, and I don't think you have a natural tendency towards lying or – being deceitful _at_ _all_ , really. You're not that good at it, for the most part, so that makes me think you've been sheltered a lot longer than you should've been."

Beth bit back a retort. She couldn't say the other woman was completely wrong. Then again, how many of Beth's lies had she believed so far…?

"But you're also used to living in the background," Carol continued. "And you're not _in_ the background anymore, sweetie... Your choices, your actions, everything you say out here – it _matters_. And people are… more understanding than I think you realize. Or maybe you were just taught that _nobody_ can be trusted, no exceptions... I get it – I was brainwashed like that fer a while, too. It keeps you more submissive, easier ta push around, easier ta keep any outsiders from interfering 'cause – well, _you_ do all the work _for_ 'em just by pushin' people away, isolating yourself. They don't even have ta worry about other people finding out the truth, getting inside… _helping_ _you_. Because no one _knows_."

Beth's breath hitched in her throat and she tried not to let the words linger inside her head. But they'd already gotten in, already penetrated.

 _Brainwashed?_ She thought, mind racing with flashes of the farm, of Jimmy – of Daddy and Maggie. _There has_ _ **never**_ _been outsiders… always just_ _ **us**_ _. But…_ _ **brainwashed**_ _? Jimmy was the abuser. He was the_ _ **only**_ _abuser I ever allowed in my life, and the drugs made him that way… Right?_

A scoff escaped her lips and she wasn't sure where it had come from. Carol's face became the slightest bit quizzical as she stood and watched Beth, waiting for a response. And Beth muttered, " _Brainwashed_ …?"

She shook her head and couldn't stop her lips from smirking, as if it were a joke.

Carol appeared concerned, but it faded quickly and she replied, "I know that sounds like a melodramatic word, but it's true. How else would you describe what they did to your head? They taught you t'blame yourself and take on all the guilt, while still holding onto all the important information and remaining loyal… They make us into nothing more than _dogs_. Don't you wanna break _away_ from that?"

 _What's that old saying? 'The truth will set you free'?_ Beth thought. She shook her head, scolding herself for thinking of such a cliché at a time like this.

"I was never anybody's _dog_ ," she said, clearing her throat before going on. "You got no idea what you're talkin' about. What I've told you… it was a _small_ part. There were reasons, there was a time when things weren't bad – "

"Can you even _remember_ the person you were back then, though?" Carol interrupted. "Can you remember a time when you didn't feel the need to lie and make up excuses? …Can you even remember the last time you were truly _happy_ , even when things weren't _'bad'_?"

Beth pursed her lips and glanced away, conjuring up memories of sitting with Jimmy in the back of his pickup. She tried to recall the person she'd been back then, and even _she_ wasn't happy, clinging so hopelessly to the one person she _thought_ could save her. No… things weren't even that _good_ then, either. Farther back… before Jimmy, before Momma and Shawn died (obviously), before… before _what_? How far back was she going? Was she really _happy_ when she was riding Princess around the farm, heart skipping a beat every time she caught a whiff of animal shit? Was she really _happy_ when Momma wouldn't allow her to have friends over on the weekends, or when Daddy told her that twelve was "too old" to be going to friends' houses for sleepovers? How _happy_ could she have been if she'd never even thought to open her eyes and look around at how utterly fucking _alone_ she actually was?

After a long moment of silence, Carol raised her eyebrows and watched Beth with a gaze that said she finally got the reaction she'd been looking for. Though Beth tried, she couldn't mask the introspective expression that was evident on her face. She didn't nod or shake her head, looking back up to meet Carol's eyes again and swallowing down a few lies that wanted to escape her mouth in a mechanical response. She knew better than that now – Carol could see right through it. She wasn't sure what this woman knew exactly, but she could tell that she wasn't fooled by any of the fronts Beth had been putting up.

"It takes a while to figure out how to shut off the old, defensive habits," Carol said quietly. "It's hard to reclaim yourself after you let yourself get lost for so long, or you just… never _knew_ who you really were to begin with. I think your identity has probably been formed around all the _traumas_ you've experienced – and you need to learn who you are _outside_ of that trauma, outside of all those experiences... But you don't have t'do it alone. Don't bring those old things into your new life. You can be a _new_ person without being a _different_ person… You can be better. And… all I'm saying is – some things can be forgiven. If there's honesty… and remorse. But most importantly: _honesty_."

Beth blinked, still pushing away thoughts of Jimmy and the farm. Now she could think of nothing but Daryl's face, and Malachi's. She thought of the way Tobin had looked at her, and for a second, she wondered if this conversation had anything to do with that. But if Carol knew… why didn't she just _say_ something? Why would she dance around it like this? What was she afraid would happen? She already had the upper-hand.

Or maybe she was trying to push Beth into admitting it herself. Which she never would. Not here. Not now.

"I don't… know what you think I'm lyin' about," Beth said, her voice sounding weaker than she felt. "But I would never drag Daryl and Mal inta that – I'd never do anything ta _hurt_ them."

Without missing a beat, Carol said, "For as little as I know about you – I believe you… But I also believe that you can't see what kind of repercussions your actions will have. I know your intentions are good, but… they're not good _enough_."

Beth furrowed her brow, her pulse and mind still racing. That word was still floating around in her head… _brainwashed_. _Brainwashed_. _Brainwashed_.

"I'll tell him the truth," she blurted out, her mouth moving on its own accord as she stared up at Carol. "I'll tell him… _everything_. I just need time."

Carol glanced her up and down once again, appearing to be assessing whether this was another attempt at a lie. But she couldn't seem to find the telltale factors she was looking for.

Because there were none. Beth wasn't lying, she wasn't wasting the energy on it. Her heart thumped hard and her stomach was turning, a deep fear embedding itself inside her as she silently wondered if this woman would go home and call the police, or if she was just waiting for the right moment to reveal how much she really knew. Either way, it scared Beth – _terrified_ her. But she couldn't run. Not now. She refused.

As the older woman returned her gaze, Beth watched her expression soften and her blue eyes grow weary. Something that Beth couldn't explain told her that Carol didn't mean her any harm, and that she was someone Beth could trust. At least for now.

"If you wait too long," Carol said quietly. "He won't wanna listen. There'll be too much that you won't be able to explain… I'm trying t'tell you that not _everyone_ is against you in the world, like you've been tricked into thinking. There are some people that – you can let that disguise come down. Even if it's just a little bit."

 _Not true,_ Beth thought reflexively. _Not true at all. Every single person I trust is a liability. Realistically, I shouldn't even still be here, letting you_ _ **or**_ _Daryl get anywhere_ _ **near**_ _this close when I still have so long to wait for Jesus to get me out of the country… Yet here we are._

She swallowed hard, her mouth dry. "So, what – are you gonna hold this over my head now? You gonna threaten t'tell him if I don't?"

Carol furrowed her brow, a bit taken aback at Beth's abrasive response. But she didn't waiver as she replied, "No. It's not my place – plus, I don't think I'll _have_ to. Daryl's a smart guy, and he's _much_ more observant than anyone realizes. I'd recommend you tell him – at least _something_ – before things get… too serious."

Beth looked away and pushed down the tears that threatened to force their way up. She cleared her throat and mumbled, "Got it… Anything else you wanted t'lecture me on while yer here?"

She couldn't bring herself to look up and meet Carol's eyes, hands nearly trembling at her sides. But she could hear the other woman sigh softly.

"Rosie, I'm just trying to _help_ ," Carol muttered. "Your life doesn't have t'be the one that other people planned out for you – just like it doesn't have t'be the life that happened to you because of _their_ mistakes. You can find your own happiness… But you _won't_ find it by continuing the cycle of distrust and deception."

Beth was smirking but she had no idea why. It had become like a defense mechanism to hide how terrified she actually was.

The only thing in her head now was Daryl, and Mal. She tried to imagine how Daryl would react if she told him the truth – but she'd been over this scenario a million times in her head. And all it ever brought her was pain and more dread. There wasn't a single scenario where he understood, or forgave her, like Carol seemed to think he might. And as selfish as she knew it was… she didn't want to risk losing the boys. It was her tiny island of happiness amongst a sea of misery. She couldn't bear to bring herself to see the look of disappointment that would be on Daryl's face, knowing she was the one to cause it.

 _But you have to tell him eventually,_ Beth's logical side reminded her. _Carol's right. The longer you wait, the worse it will be. You really think he won't, at_ _ **any**_ _point in time, be disappointed to find out that your name isn't Rosaline Wilson – not even_ _ **close**_ _?_

She ignored the tiny voice and glanced back up to meet Carol's eyes, finding the older woman to be studying her again, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" Beth's voice came out weak and a bit choked from the tears she was holding back that were pooling in her eyes.

Carol's face grew sympathetic and she said softly, "You do, though. And your choices show who you _really_ are – even the ones you don't realize you're making… There's something bright inside you, Rosie, but all that fear and hurt is covering it _really_ well."

Beth blinked away tears that were threatening to roll down her cheeks. She sniffled and swiped a hand across her nose, then spoke with a firmer tone. "I didn't _ask_ for this. It just – happened. Any kind of relationship or romance or _anything_ – that kinda _shit_ wasn't even _close_ to being on my mind. I wasn't _looking_ for it – wasn't even _thinkin'_ about it, honestly. But…"

"But shit happens," Carol finished after her voice trailed off. "I know. And most good things seem to come to us when we aren't ready for them… The best thing you can do is _get_ ready. What better reason to start flushing your life of all those bad habits and toxic behaviors?"

Beth nodded, but she was only half-absorbing Carol's words. She remained silent, head full of questions and doubts and fears. When Carol finally realized that Beth wasn't going to speak, she glanced down at the juice in her hand and sighed.

"I'm always right across the hall," she said quietly, meeting Beth's eyes and staring into them meaningfully. "And I think I've made it… pretty _clear_ that I only wanna help."

Beth nodded again and Carol accepted it as an answer, turning and heading for the door.

As she watched Carol open the door and move to step into the hallway, Beth gave in to the sudden urge to blurt out a question that had been weighing heavily on her mind for days.

"What if he ends up hatin' me?"

Carol stopped and turned around, hand still on the doorknob, and gave Beth a knowing, almost pitying, smile. It reminded her of the way her momma used to look at her sometimes, like when she'd ask if Daddy could check inside the closet for monsters just one more time before they shut off the lights at bedtime.

"Then you move on," Carol said softly.

Beth bit down on her lower lip, thinking to herself, _Move on to what?_

* * *

By the time Daryl walked through the door of apartment 3A that evening, Beth had busied her hands in an effort to quiet her mind and cleaned the entire bathroom, as well as the kitchen, and what little dust was settled atop the living room surfaces. Then she'd tried to focus on her Bible, but that didn't help anything, so she'd moved to a regular book. But her mind kept wandering away from the pages and she'd have to reread entire paragraphs over and over before finally giving up and moving to her guitar. So when she heard the sound of the front door unlocking and opening, she stopped playing and set the guitar aside, standing up from the bed. But before she could get to the bedroom doorway, Daryl was appearing from around the bar, approaching the door to her room.

Beth stopped in her tracks and stared as Daryl stepped into her bedroom, a smirk on his face. But she wasn't staring at him – she was staring at the flowers he was holding. She couldn't hold back the bewildered expression that appeared on her face.

He held them out to her, briefly glancing at the guitar sitting behind her. "Didn't stop playin' 'cause a me, did ya?"

She smiled and reached her hands out, carefully taking the bouquet from him. "Wha – what is this?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, chewing on the tip of his thumb nervously as he watched her.

Beth held the flowers before her, admiring the arrangement of bright yellow sunflowers and dark red roses, wrapped up in a paper sleeve slipped inside a plastic sleeve. She held them up to her nose and inhaled deeply, breathing in the fragrant, earthy mixture of smells. There was a smile on her lips that wouldn't go away. This was definitely one of the last things she'd _ever_ expected of Daryl Dixon. It felt almost surreal – like something that she'd always read about but never really experienced. Her heart was doing somersaults.

"You said sunflowers were yer favorite, right?" He rumbled.

She nodded and looked up to meet his dark blue eyes, his smile a bit sheepish. She said, "Yeah – they're _beautiful_ … Thank you."

 _He remembered that?_ She thought, still feeling slightly bewildered.

He nodded and stroked his chin hair for a brief moment. Beth could see his shoulders tensing, then he said, "Wanted ta – well, figured the flowers might make it a li'l more… I'ono, ' _romantic'_ , I guess. I wanted ta do somethin' _proper_ since it ain't really been, ya know, like a _normal_ relationship. An' you deserve flowers an' fancy dinners an' shit like that… So d'you wanna go out on a _real_ date on Thursday night?"

He watched her expectantly, studying her face and waiting for a reaction. She continued smiling and nodded, heart leaping as her face grew warm. His shoulders relaxed and his mouth formed a relieved half-smile.

"A _real_ date?" She asked.

He nodded. "Yeah – ya know, like dinner an' a movie or somethin'. But maybe somethin' cooler than that. It _is_ New York, there's lotsa stuff we could do."

Beth's smile grew bigger and she said, "That sounds… really, _really_ nice."

He smirked and leaned in closer, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her in to him. She held the flowers at her side and leaned in as well, wrapping her free arm around his middle. Their lips met in a soft kiss that quickly grew deeper, the smell of leather and cigarettes and engine grease filling Beth's nose. For the first time in hours, her pulse was steady and her stomach wasn't churning wildly. When their mouths broke apart and they opened their eyes to gaze at each other again, Beth smiled coyly up at him and watched his cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"Brought some takeout fer supper," he muttered, struggling not to look at her lips and gesturing with his head toward the bar in the living room.

"Aw, thanks," she smiled, then glanced over his shoulder quizzically. "Where's Mal?"

"Asked Carol ta watch 'im a couple minutes longer so I could come ask ya out without any interruption," Daryl explained, arm tightening around her waist. "She said she'd keep him Thursday night, too…"

Beth smirked at this and leaned in to plant another quick kiss on Daryl's lips. Then she pulled back and looked up at him again. "Well, go get him – you gotta get washed up before we eat."

 **to be continued…**


	48. relaxed and floated into space

_**relaxed and floated into space**_

Wednesday morning arrived quietly, and Beth awoke with fresh memories of another evening spent with Daryl and Malachi, as well as another goodbye kiss from Daryl before he left for the day. She went about her usual morning routine, replying to more text messages from Clementine, Rosita, and Tara, as well as doing her usual check of the news sites. There was still nothing new posted and she was beginning to wonder if Jenny Jones was out there somewhere, digging around. But then she found herself thinking back on the way Daryl had smiled and chuckled when she'd told him about the text messages from the girls and how excited they all seemed, and she kind of forgot about Jenny Jones and the news. She chose to reminisce on the things that made her happy while she sipped coffee and flipped through her Bible.

The morning passed and drifted into afternoon, and besides preparing, eating, and cleaning up from lunch, Beth filled her time with reading and occasionally watching TV. Her phone vibrated with a text message from Daryl at one point, asking if he should pick anything up on his way home. She'd already been thinking about what she would prepare for dinner, though she still had a few hours before she needed to get started. She sent him a text back and went back to reading, but she found her mind wandering as she switched between different books in an attempt to regain focus.

It was almost a subconscious thing when she wandered into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. Like sleepwalking, except she was awake. Why had she come in here? Where were her feet taking her? And why did her head feel so foggy and floaty? When she finally snapped back to reality and focused in on what she was actually doing, she realized the dresser drawer was open and her hand was wrapping around the cool metal of the Beretta inside the depths of the bag. Something tugged at her, like an invisible string connected to her belly button. She felt like her stomach was trying to escape her body, so she pulled the gun from the bag and grasped it in both hands. She stared down at it, eyes barely focused on the shiny metal before her.

 _Just go dump it in the river,_ one part of her demanded.

 _Take it apart, wipe it down. Scatter the pieces,_ another part suggested.

 _How will you defend yourself if someone comes for you?_ The loudest voice piped up.

Beth's stomach churned and she gripped the gun tightly, until she could feel the metal growing warm from her hands. She wished it would just disappear, that she wouldn't have to worry about it ever again. But she knew that's not what happened with problems – _any_ problems. She just… couldn't seem to get herself to do it. To just dump it, be rid of it. Whenever the idea seemed convincing enough, whenever she thought she could muster up the courage to toss it over the railing, a sudden terror would overtake her. And then she'd think of all the scenarios that could play out in which she'd need that gun more than _anything_.

Daryl and the self-defense classes would only do so much for Beth. When it came down to it, she knew – deep down – that she had more than a few cops or FBI agents to worry about. But that was a whole other argument with herself, choosing whether to acknowledge it as a real threat or as something so distant and far-off that she shouldn't add it to her overwhelming list right now. Yet when the Beretta came into play… what other purpose did it have? She had absolutely _no_ other reason to hold onto it. It certainly didn't have sentimental value. She'd be perfectly happy with _never_ seeing it again. But that didn't feel like a possibility just yet. She might feel lighter without it, but she'd also feel naked. And vulnerable.

Without much thought, she walked to the bed and sat down, then slid her fingers to the familiar little switches and nooks on the gun, popping out the magazine and assuring that the chamber was empty. Then the muscle memory kicked in, and she clicked another couple of switches and removed the slide. She set the parts out on the bed before her as she slipped her small fingers in and, with a few more fluid movements, removed the spring and the barrel, leaving the gun stripped. She arranged the parts neatly in front of her, atop the soft comforter on the bed, and gazed down at the Beretta – stripped, disassembled, completely harmless and useless. This weapon that had caused so much strife, so much turmoil… yet it was just a thing, at the end of the day. It was just a thing, and what really caused all the pain was Beth's choices.

Her conversation with Carol the day before was replaying in her head, over and over. She glanced at the flowers sitting atop her dresser, residing in a simple glass vase full of water. Her stomach stopped churning and dropping, and for a second, the gun beside her didn't exist. Then she looked back down at it, at the parts so neatly arranged, at the dirt and dust building up around some of the edges.

 _At least wipe it down so your fingerprints aren't all over it,_ a slightly more logical part of her suggested.

She knew she shouldn't waste her time cleaning it, but her hands were itching to go through the old routine again. Now that the gun was stripped, it felt wrong to put it back together without wiping off all the grime she could see accumulating. For a moment, that word floated through her head again: _brainwashed_. But she pushed it out and focused herself on finding something around the apartment to clean the gun with.

Daryl didn't have much around the apartment that could be used to maintain a weapon, but Beth dug out some WD-40 from a high cupboard in the kitchen. With a strike of luck, she also found a small pack of latex gloves, from which she grabbed a pair for herself. She scrounged up an old pack of pipe cleaners from the back of the junk drawer and grabbed some paper towels from the kitchen, as well as a thin hand towel from the linen cabinet, before returning to the bedroom. With her cleaning supplies set out on the floor, she gathered the parts of the gun and laid them out on the towel, then slipped on the latex gloves.

Her muscles relaxed as she went through the old motions of carefully cleaning each part of the gun. She made sure to thoroughly wipe each and every millimeter of shiny steel, and paid extra attention when it came to wiping down the handle. The smell of WD-40 rustled up faint memories of the farm, and she almost swore she could hear Maggie's voice scolding her for using such a thing to clean a weapon ( _"do you_ _ **want**_ _this thing to fall apart in your hands?!"_ ). Beth knew better – but she didn't care. She told herself that using WD-40 to clean the Beretta was just another reason, another push, to get rid of it. She just needed a little time, a little longer to convince herself that she could do it. To convince herself that she wouldn't need this gun to protect herself from the monsters in her past.

 _Just wiping it down of everything,_ she told herself. _Wiping away all my DNA, all the residue from the shot that killed Detective Walsh._

But she could still hear Maggie inside her head, scolding her as usual.

* * *

" _Okay, this is like the fifty-millionth time," Beth said, the shiny Beretta 92 held loosely in her hands as she looked at Maggie with raised eyebrows. "I think I could clean this thing in my_ _ **sleep**_ _."_

" _Good," Maggie said. "That's how it should be. Now take it apart an' do it again."_

" _It's clean!" Beth argued, half-smiling._

 _But Maggie wasn't smiling at all, her voice stern as she looked at Beth with a solemn gaze. "I know it is. So take it apart an' reassemble it."_

 _Beth frowned and furrowed her brow. "Maggie, I know it inside an' out, but what good is that if I don't even know how ta_ _ **use**_ _it?"_

 _Maggie didn't waver. "If there's one thing me an' Dad agreed on, it's the necessity for a solid respect and understanding of a weapon. These things aren't toys, Beth – they are_ _ **deadly**_ _weapons. And you're gonna know_ _ **exactly**_ _what yer handling before you_ _ **ever**_ _get ta squeeze that trigger."_

 _Beth pursed her lips and swallowed back any more arguments she might've had. She stared down at the Beretta and focused on taking it apart again as Maggie watched from nearby, both sisters remaining silent. She knew she was lucky just to be getting the chance to learn how to use a gun, and she had to remind herself of this fact several times._

 _One week after T-Dog drove away from the Greene Farm for the last time ever, the Greene Family held a joint funeral for Annette and Shawn. And a few days after that, Maggie stepped into Beth's bedroom after supper to let her know that she'd start learning how to use a gun that coming weekend. Beth didn't ask about the loud arguments she'd been hearing from the study since the day after the funeral. She decided to count this as a blessing, and she made sure to thank Glenn and Maggie for whatever they'd said to finally convince her daddy._

 _On the last weekend of April, as promised, Maggie began teaching Beth everything about the Beretta 92. Though she skimmed over some basic facts about a couple of the other guns that were stowed in the house, Maggie deemed the Beretta as "Beth's go-to," and assured her that it would be kept somewhere easily accessible for her. Beth had to admit that she liked the way the Beretta felt in her hands, and the way it looked, and after a long week of taking it apart, cleaning it, and putting it back together over and over_ _ **and**_ _ **over**_ _again, she also had to admit that she_ _ **really**_ _liked the way it fired. It didn't take long for her to begin hitting every target she aimed for almost effortlessly._

 _For exactly thirty days in a row, Beth would come home from school, or finish her afternoon chores on the weekends, and join Maggie in a field a few miles away from the farm, toward the very edge of the acres of property that belonged to the Greene's. Glenn joined them a few times, passing along some pointers while he was there. Beth and Maggie set up target practice and spent at least two hours together every day, practicing caring for the gun, handling it properly, and firing it safely. Then they would search and gather up all the empty shells from the grass and dirt, keeping close count of every round that was fired._

 _Ever since the murders, Maggie had been more quiet than usual. So it was no different after the funeral, and even during their hours spent together during shooting practice, the sisters didn't talk as much as they normally would have…_ _ **before**_ _. But on the fifth day of shooting practice, Beth tried to get some answers, even though she still wasn't sure that she entirely_ _ **wanted**_ _any answers._

 _Her voice came out quiet and weak, but the field they were in was quiet and there wasn't much for her to speak over besides the occasional gust of wind. "So all those black cars at the service…"_

 _Maggie didn't look over at her. She continued to focus on the gun in her hands as she worked to reload the magazine. Her voice was flat, nearly emotionless. "What about 'em."_

 _Beth clicked the magazine back up into place inside the gun in her own hands and continued to watch Maggie's face carefully. "Were they… watchin' us?"_

 _A second of silence passed. Then two seconds. Then Maggie said, "Every last one of 'em."_

 _Beth's heart skipped and she swallowed hard, running a finger along the smooth steel of the Beretta. Then she asked quietly, "What if – I mean, yer teachin' me how ta shoot. But what do I do if like, Lerner or one a the cops tries ta corner me, or scare me into talkin' – "_

 _Maggie's eyes finally flicked upward and met Beth's, and she spoke very firmly. "You don't say_ _ **shit**_ _._ _ **Especially**_ _if it's Lerner. Doubt that'll happen, though – you saw what happened when Daddy found out they tried cornerin' me... He won't let 'em bother you – neither will I. Jus' remember what I told you. If people start askin' questions…?"_

 _Beth nodded weakly and recited aloud, "Deny, deny, deny. Play dumb…"_

" _Innocent until proven guilty," they finished in unison._

 _Beth looked down at the gun again, the day of the funeral still fresh in her head. Still unsettling her._

" _Those weren't all cops, though," Maggie said quietly, staring down at her weapon and speaking so softly that Beth almost thought she was talking to herself._

 _Beth furrowed her brow and lifted her eyes to stare at Maggie quizzically, waiting for her to go on. But she didn't. And Beth didn't have the courage to ask any more questions for the rest of the day. There was something painful in her big sister's voice that had leaked out with those five words, and Beth didn't think she could quite handle whatever was causing it._

 _On the eleventh day of shooting practice, Maggie seemed to be having her first decently good day since before the murders. She talked more than usual, though that only meant about three words every ten minutes. It was possible that it had something to do with Glenn being there, since she always seemed to be just a little bit happier when he was around. Although he was rather quiet these days, too. The bags under his eyes had grown dark, he badly needed a shave, and he appeared to be lost in his own head more often than not. Today, however, seemed to be a slightly better day for him, too, because Beth had caught a glimpse of a small smile on his face at one point, when he and Maggie were standing close together and whispering about something. Their improved moods – even though they were only_ _ **slightly**_ _improved – helped to give Beth the courage she'd lacked when it came to finding answers to the new questions that were forming in her head every day._

 _She'd heard Glenn's raised voice coming from her daddy's study for enough nights to know that he'd helped, at least somewhat, in convincing Hershel to let Beth learn how to use a gun. Glenn would've never dared to disrespect Hershel, let alone argue or raise his voice to him, in_ _ **any**_ _way six months ago – but things had changed a lot over the last six months. T-Dog wasn't the only one to show a side of themselves that Beth had never seen or heard before, nor imagined. By now, she was getting used to it, and almost expected it. She figured, at this point, it was only a matter of time before Otis and Patricia would be arguing in Hershel's study, storming out and away from the farm. Possibly forever. Even though it was starting to feel like Lerner and her goon squad had built a spider's web around the Greene Farm and the church, and they were just waiting for everyone to step the wrong way and get caught. She could see why her daddy was so on edge, so furious, so overwrought. She felt it, too._

 _But Beth had school to focus on; she was about to graduate in less than two months, and despite the minor setback that the murders had caused in her academic career, she was still on track to be one of the top in her graduating class. She chose the easy route in her family, for the most part – which meant pouring all of her energy, time, and passion into school and pushing out everything else at home. Besides the shooting lessons, she almost felt extracted from whatever else was going on around her. And Daddy had seemed content with leaving her out of it, as he always had. Even though Beth had still overheard some scattered things. It was kind of difficult, after all, to always tune out the loud arguments from the study, especially when they continued in the hall and all the way down the stairs._

 _Beth had shot twelve out of her fifteen targets with nearly exact precision, and as she stepped back to the open tailgate of the old pick-up truck, where boxes of shells were scattered about, Glenn looked over at her._

" _Hey, that last shot was really nice," he commented as he handed Maggie another bullet to load into her magazine._

 _Beth gave him a small smile in return. "Thanks."_

 _He nodded and turned to watch Maggie as she stepped up to the invisible line they'd designated in the grass a few feet away, positioning her body and taking aim at a target._

" _Hey, um… thanks – for whatever you said ta Daddy," Beth said quietly, leaning toward Glenn as Maggie's gunshot rang out around them. "I know you helped convince him ta let me learn this."_

 _He looked over at her and nodded, feigning a half-smile. "Don't mention it. I was just backin' Maggie up, really – but I_ _ **do**_ _think you should know this stuff. Know_ _ **about**_ _this stuff."_

 _Beth's stomach was turning again, which had been happening a lot more frequently over the last few weeks. She glanced over and watched as Maggie took aim and fired another round, then turned back to Glenn as her big sister proceeded to take aim at the next target. "Are… did you guys find out somethin'? About – the killers. Or did the cops…? "_

 _Glenn shook his head, a disappointed but unsurprised expression on his face. He sighed quietly and muttered, "Cops aren't doing…_ _ **shit**_ _. Hershel is – well, he's pretty hell-bent on findin' these dudes. And I think we might've – "_

" _Glenn!" Maggie's voice interrupted him and he looked over at his wife, eyes wide. She had turned around, gun at her side and pointed toward the ground as she gave Glenn a look that said, 'what the fuck, dude?' She'd clearly heard what he'd said._

" _Maggie," he started, watching her approach. "It's – you_ _ **know**_ _she has ta know."_

 _Maggie opened her mouth, about to argue, but suddenly stopped herself and glanced over at Beth indecisively, then back to Glenn. Her expression softened and she closed her eyes for a second longer than a normal blink, sighing softly. She gazed into Glenn's eyes, exchanging silent words with him, then nodded as her mouth turned into a small frown. Her voice sounded a bit defeated. "I… yeah. I guess you're right…"_

 _They both turned back to Beth and she felt her stomach turning even harder, like a hurricane at sea. She already knew what Glenn was talking about. She'd heard enough of the arguments to piece it together. And not just the arguments in and around her daddy's study, between her family members. There were also plenty of arguments with all kinds of police officers, all over the farm and even on the phone. There were some days that Beth felt she was always in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she remembered why she'd hid away in her bedroom so often. Though she couldn't exactly stop herself from caring about justice for the murderers of her mother and brother. She wanted the two men caught just as badly as Daddy and Maggie and everyone else did – if not more so. She just hadn't realized how…_ _ **cruel**_ _the police could really be before now. How cold and uncaring they actually were._

 _She'd thought they'd find the men right away. Surely, they'd want to catch two murderers and get justice...? But from the sounds of things, and the worsening appearance of her daddy, the police didn't give two shits about catching whoever killed Annette and Shawn. They did, however, care about Hershel and all the people he had working on his farm, and why the family was so secretive, and why half the farm was basically closed-off to any sort of visitors or trespassers. They_ _ **definitely**_ _cared about Hershel Greene and his little, exclusive church out in the boonies of Senoia, Georgia. They did_ _ **not**_ _care about the two men who'd broken into the farmhouse late at night and violently murdered a mother and her son in cold blood._

" _The cops don't…_ _ **care**_ _about findin' those guys," Glenn said solemnly, facing Beth again and gazing at her with apprehension, as if he were gauging her reaction before going on._

" _Fuckin' pigs," Maggie mumbled under her breath, scowling._

 _Beth put on a stoic face and merely nodded in understanding, gazing back at him expectantly._

" _We… your dad an' us, we're all working on um, finding them," he continued, voice wavering. "Before they…"_

 _He furrowed his brow, having trouble finding the right words, apparently. Beth watched him patiently, but then Maggie interjected and finished for him._

" _Before they come back an' finish the job," she said flatly._

 _Beth swallowed past a hard knot in her throat and stared into her sister's steely eyes. Her voice came out much stronger than she'd expected. "So did you find 'em?"_

 _Maggie and Glenn looked down to the ground simultaneously, but Maggie lifted her gaze again quickly and met Beth's eyes to reply, "No. But we're close."_

 _Beth pursed her lips and nodded in understanding. Glenn turned back to the tailgate and began stiffly organizing shells and boxes while Maggie gave Beth one last, steely gaze before turning and stepping back to the invisible line in the grass, positioning her feet and firmly grasping the gun in both hands in front of her as she took aim once more._

 _A gunshot rang out. Beth watched the small hole appear in the very center of the target in the distance. Another gunshot, another small hole. The sound no longer made Beth jump, or even wince. It was like background noise._

 _Then Maggie paused and turned her head to look over her shoulder and meet Beth's gaze. She seemed to be reading Beth's mind, somehow able to hear all the fears that were running through Beth's head. Or maybe she just recognized the look on her little sister's face._

 _Maggie spoke louder, with more assurance. "Things could change real fast, Beth. We gotta be ready for anything."_

 _Glenn interjected, still staring down at the shells in his hands, "Babe – she's only seventeen…"_

 _Maggie fired another shot, then said, "Yeah – she's almost an adult._ _ **And**_ _she's a Greene woman… Bethy,'member what Mom used ta say? 'Women are_ _ **resilient**_ _. Women can adapt better than_ _ **anybody**_ _…'"_

 _Beth nodded and watched her sister turn back to aim the gun at another target, firing another round. She could hear her momma's voice in her head, clear as day, preaching those old words to the two sisters._

 _Maggie spoke again, finishing the sentiment loud enough for Beth to hear, though she kept her sights on the target she was aiming at. "'God made women t'do everything that men aren't_ _ **capable**_ _of.'" Another gunshot._

 _From the corner of her eye, Beth saw Glenn continuing to organize boxes of shells. She could also see the way his hands were slightly trembling. She kept her lips shut tightly._

 _Beth didn't ask any more questions during the remaining days of shooting practice. She watched her sister's demeanor change daily, just like their daddy's, and made her own assumptions about what was going on behind closed doors. But something was building and she could feel it. At the very bottom of her stomach, like a long-forgotten instinct that was telling her to prepare herself, to bear for the worst. Or maybe it was just the tone of her big sister's voice, or the repetition in her words. Beth wasn't just learning how to shoot, because Maggie was also instilling a deep fear and paranoia into her – out of necessity. She knew that Maggie wanted her to be prepared, and not just because she'd stated it very clearly multiple times, or because Glenn had said the same thing at one point, but because all the signs pointed to a big storm looming ahead. And by now, Beth felt like the only thing she really could do, for herself_ _ **or**_ _her family, was to make sure she was just as prepared as they needed her to be. She had to grow up and get tough. And fast. She had to take more cues from Maggie, remember every lesson she'd ever gotten from Shawn, and most importantly, get thicker skin like her daddy. She had to stop being so soft and weak, so helpless._

 _On the twenty-second day of shooting practice, there was a tense electricity in the air of the farmhouse, and Beth knew something was off after breakfast, when her daddy told her to stay in her room for the day and study instead of doing her afternoon chores. She didn't ask questions or argue because there was something on his face that she didn't quite recognize, and she didn't want to tempt whatever was teetering on the edge. She was relieved when Maggie entered her bedroom in the late afternoon, just in time for their daily practice. But her excitement for shooting the Beretta again quickly disappeared when she saw the mixture of emotions on her big sister's face._

 _There was no "hey, Bethy" or even a simple "Beth" when Maggie entered the bedroom. She sat down on the edge of Beth's bed in silence and immediately began wringing her hands together nervously. Beth thought she might've seen something that looked like a hint of relief in her face, but she honestly couldn't tell anymore._

" _Is… everythin' okay?" Beth asked quietly, after several long moments of silence. Her gut was burning with dread._

 _Maggie nodded weakly but didn't look up from her lap. Her expression was thoughtful, contemplative, and her eyes were unfocused. Beth began to fear the worst but didn't prod. She sat and waited, watching her sister patiently._

 _Another long, quiet moment passed. Then Maggie lifted her head and finally met Beth's gaze, and she was wearing the stoic expression that Beth had grown to recognize as a stone-faced mask._

" _Me an' Dad an' Glenn have been talkin'… a lot," she started, voice cracking slightly before steadying and growing stronger. "And… well, I think we all agreed that keepin' you so –_ _ **sheltered**_ _isn't doin' anybody any favors. Especially you. It could end up bein' the_ _ **most**_ _dangerous thing right now… Teachin' you how t'handle a weapon is… a start."_

 _Beth nodded slowly, face becoming quizzical as she stared at her sister and listened intently._

 _Maggie sighed softly, licking her lips and glancing away briefly, gathering her thoughts again. Then she continued, "You need to see… how serious all this really is, Beth. You need ta see what can happen. It's gonna feel like gettin' thrown in the deep end ta learn how t'swim, but – "_

" _That's how Shawn taught me how ta swim, though," Beth interrupted, voice soft and quiet, and she wasn't quite sure where the words had come from. It was just the first thought that popped into her head, and it escaped her lips before she could stop it._

 _Maggie smirked for a split-second, but her face quickly became solemn again. She blinked and nodded, then said, "Listen, Bethy – instead a target practice today, we're… gonna do a_ _ **different**_ _kinda lesson. But… I think it's somethin' we_ _ **all**_ _need."_

 _Beth furrowed her brow. "What d'you mean?"_

 _Maggie swallowed visibly and looked down at her lap again. She was picking at her fingernails, and Beth could see from where she sat that the edges of Maggie's cuticles were already demolished from the last month of nervous fidgeting. When she spoke, her voice was emotionless. "We found one of the guys."_

 _An hour later, Beth watched her daddy cut off Randall's hand in a vengeful rage, and then she watched Randall disappear without much explanation. She didn't ask questions._

 _For the last eight days of shooting practice, Maggie didn't speak except when absolutely necessary. But Beth found it oddly satisfying to take aim and imagine the face of Randall's accomplice in her head as she squeezed the trigger. By the end of their thirty days of firearm lessons, Beth hadn't missed a single target in over a week._

* * *

Wednesday evening played out much like the previous days had. Beth tucked the Beretta back into its safe spot and tried to forget about it. She had dinner with the boys, followed by reading time and play time. Then she and Daryl talked quietly, cuddled close together on the couch for a couple of hours before retiring to Beth's bedroom. The gun only weighed on her mind a handful of times; she was far too occupied with the boys to think about much else.

On Thursday, Beth awoke to a note on the fridge telling her to be ready by six-thirty that evening. She spent the day no differently than normal, though she made sure to dedicate a little more time to washing up and grooming in the bathroom, and Clementine stopped by for a few minutes in the early afternoon. The girls talked for a bit, but it was mostly gushing about Beth and Daryl's new relationship and their upcoming date. Beth borrowed a few things from Clem in preparation for the date, and then Clem went on her way after Beth promised to text her the next day.

When Daryl finally walked in the door from work, Beth was shut away inside her bedroom, slipping on the only dress she currently owned – something she'd bought on an impulse while browsing through the thrift store. By the time she peeked her head out the door to look up and down the hallway, Daryl had slipped away into the bathroom to clean up and get ready.

She finished getting ready, slipping on a pair of black flats she'd borrowed from Clem to go with the short, black dress she was wearing. She'd even taken the time to put on a little makeup (also borrowed from Clem). Though she was still a bit unsure about her appearance – part of her was afraid she looked too dressed-up, or that maybe the dress was inappropriate. It definitely wasn't a dress she would've worn back in Georgia. Maggie would've never let her leave the house in something so short and lacy. She was beginning to regret not asking to borrow an outfit from Clem, as well.

But then Daryl emerged from the hall and Beth's heart did a little flip at the sight of him, as well as the scent of aftershave that rolled into the room with him. She suddenly didn't feel overdressed by any means, because Daryl was wearing what looked like a suit. It was a dark gray color and had obviously been tailored to fit him perfectly. Beneath the jacket, he wore a baby blue, collared shirt with a simple red tie, and she was surprised to see that he was wearing black dress shoes instead of boots. Even in the dim lighting of the apartment, Beth could see that the shirt he was wearing brought out the bright blue in his eyes. _And_ he'd combed his hair neatly so that she could actually see his eyes and their true color. For a second, she wondered if she would look underdressed next to him.

She'd been too busy admiring him to notice the way his eyes were raking her up and down, but now she could see the smirk appearing on his lips as his gaze stopped to meet hers. She smiled back sheepishly, her cheeks warming up.

"Damn," he muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants as he glanced her up and down once more. "You look… _way_ outta _my_ league."

Beth giggled and shook her head, tugging lightly at the lace hem of her dress. "Yeah, right – I was about t'say the same thing about _you_. I dunno if this dress is really… _appropriate_."

Daryl raised an eyebrow and grunted, still smirking. "Nah, trust me – it's perfect."

She smiled and felt herself blushing, then he was stepping forward and snaking his arm around her waist to pull her in close to him and lean down. As soon as his fingers made contact with her skin, the fluttering came to life in her stomach. They kissed for a long moment, and she had to stop herself from getting carried away when she felt his hand slipping down to cup her ass under the short dress.

When they pulled apart, sharing a knowing smile that expressed their shared excitement for the night, Daryl nodded his head toward the door and Beth took his hand wordlessly, letting him lead her out the front door of the apartment. He locked up behind them, then grabbed her hand again as they began heading down the hall.

"So, where're we going?" She asked as they descended the stairs.

He looked over at her with a smirk and a mischievous glint in his eyes, giving her hand a squeeze. "You'll see."

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** So this flashback was set during the time between Annette's and Shawn's murders/funerals and the flashback we saw back in chapter 10 of everyone in the barn with Randall (if you remember that far back lol). Wonder who Randall's accomplice was...? ;)  
Let me know what you thought of this chapter! Sorry it's short, I've had a busy week, but next chapter will be Beth and Daryl's date!


	49. could it last?

**Warning:** explicit sexual content at the end of this chapter.

* * *

 _ **could it last?**_

The sky was dark and the city was lighting up as Beth and Daryl walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk, and even though the dress she was wearing was getting her a few more glances than she would've preferred, being with Daryl made her feel less noticeable. Because who would suspect that this guy's date was a wanted fugitive? They'd have to be out of their minds. And it only reassured her further every time they passed a group of younger guys whose eyes lingered a little longer than normal and she felt Daryl giving her hand a squeeze and leaning just the slightest bit closer to her. No, she knew that no guy in his right mind would attempt to confront her tonight.

The night sky was clear and cloudless and there was a slight chill in the air, but Beth didn't feel cold. She and Daryl were keeping pace as they walked, passing businesses and apartments and homes. There were still plenty of other people on the sidewalks and the streets were packed with traffic, as always. For a few minutes, Beth tried to guess where Daryl was taking her, but he just kept shaking his head and chuckling lightly, assuring her that she would find out soon.

She clung to his arm and followed closely as he led them around a corner and approached a large, brick building. They'd been walking for maybe twenty or thirty minutes and hadn't gotten far from the East Village. She looked around quizzically, searching the front of the building for any signs or posters. But it was unlabeled, though there were lights on and it reached up high towards the sky, higher than Beth could see to tell if there was some sort of sign at the very top of the building. As far as she could tell, it was just another apartment building.

But Daryl approached the door and opened it, gesturing for Beth to enter first before joining her. She stepped into the lobby of what appeared to be a hotel, though it was smaller than she would've expected. Daryl pulled her to the side, standing near the elevators. A few people were coming and going on and off the elevators, but they paid no mind to Beth and Daryl. Beth watched as Daryl wordlessly pulled his cell phone from an inside jacket pocket and appeared to type out a text. Then he looked up to Beth and smirked.

"What're we doin' here?" She asked, glancing around again. Surely he hadn't brought her to a hotel just to stay in a hotel room for a night…?

"Jus' texted m'buddy – he works here," Daryl explained, watching the elevators as they opened and closed and dinged every few seconds. "He'll be here any minute."

"But – it's a hotel, right?" Beth asked.

He smirked and glanced over at her. "Don't worry, we ain't usin' the hotel part."

"Then what – "

"'S a surprise – relax," he assured her.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and she rolled her eyes, leaning back against the wall and watching the elevators with him. Her heart was thumping in her chest – from excitement rather than anxiety, for a change.

A couple minutes passed, then a small group of people emerged from one of the elevators and Daryl stood up straighter, taking a step forward. Beth stood away from the wall and watched as a large, black man in an impeccable black suit approached Daryl with a smile.

"Daryl! My man," the man's deep voice boomed as he reached out and took Daryl's hand in a firm, enthusiastic handshake. Then he wrapped an arm around Daryl and pulled him in for a tight hug before stepping back and grinning. "Good t'see you, man!"

"You, too, Ty," Daryl smiled. He seemed just as happy to see the other man, who appeared to be a few years older, a few inches taller, and at least a hundred pounds heavier than him – though it was almost all muscle – with short, cropped, black hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Daryl turned sideways and gestured to Beth, "This is my girl, Rosie – Rosie, this is Tyreese. He owns the place."

Beth's eyes widened and she took a step forward, reaching out and taking the hand that Tyreese was holding out for a handshake. He beamed down at her, glancing her up and down briefly. "Nice t'finally meet you, Rosie – I've heard a lot about you."

She felt herself blushing and smiled, nodding. "Nice t'meet you, too." She gave Daryl a sideways glance and he smirked back, leaving her wondering just how much he actually talked about her to other people. She'd never even heard of this Tyreese guy. Then she looked back up to Tyreese and said, "You own this whole place? It's beautiful."

He chuckled. "Thank you! But you haven't even seen the best part."

She glanced over at Daryl questioningly and he just smirked again, looking back to Tyreese and nodding. Tyreese nodded back and gestured for them to follow him to the elevators, where they waited for a door to open up before stepping on. Tyreese casually asked Daryl about work and Mal as he stepped aside and let Daryl and Beth enter the elevator first before stepping in with them and pressing a button that was simply labeled 'R.' Daryl replied that things were going well before the men fell silent.

As the elevator ascended with Tyreese standing close to the doors and Beth and Daryl standing toward the back together, Tyreese's deep voice filled the small space. "Beautiful weather tonight."

"Yeah – 's perfect weather, actually," Daryl commented, and Beth glanced over at him with another questioning expression. But he pretended not to notice.

Tyreese turned his head and looked over his shoulder at Beth, smiling excitedly, and said, "You're gonna _love_ this."

She didn't bother asking what to expect because she knew she'd be finding out soon, so she watched silently as the light moved its way up the column of numbered buttons, until it was ticking past '22,' then '23' and '24,' until it finally stopped and left the 'R' brightly lit up. The doors dinged to announce their arrival before slowly opening, but Tyreese stood in front of them and obscured Beth's view. Daryl squeezed her hand tightly and she looked over to see him watching her with a sly smile.

Tyreese stepped aside and held out his hand, extravagantly presenting the open door for the couple. He looked at Beth with raised eyebrows and smiled. "M'lady."

She giggled in response and did a slight half-curtsy in response, earning a low chuckle of amusement from both men. Then she stepped off the elevator and onto the rooftop, cool evening air hitting her skin and sending goosebumps down her legs. Daryl and Tyreese stepped out close behind her and Tyreese led them towards the right of the elevators.

Beth looked around to see that they were atop the huge, open-air rooftop of the tall, brick building, at least twenty-four stories up in the sky. The city sparkled around them and the rooftop was decorated with strings of colorful lights hanging around every edge and garnishing the dozens of canopies, as well as various potted plants and flowers. There were various partitions set up around the rooftop, standing ten-feet tall or so and separating various areas. To the left of the elevators appeared to be a bar, filled with patrons and employees, and Beth could tell there was more to be seen beyond the partition that obscured her view of the full bar. A large sign was posted in the center of the partition that read: _21+ Only_. Music played at a medium volume throughout the rooftop, though it sounded like it originated near the bar. There were tables and booths everywhere, and at least half of them were occupied with people already. But Tyreese was taking Beth and Daryl away from the crowds, towards the right and to the quieter part of the rooftop. There appeared to be more booths and tables, and an open area near one of the balconies that stretched out and away from the rooftop, where a couple of people stood and smoked cigarettes while chatting, laughing, and sipping drinks. Tyreese led them farther on, past a small, closed-off area labeled as a restroom, then taking a turn and walking through what looked like an employees-only area. Then they took another turn and Tyreese stopped and stepped aside, holding out his hand again and proudly presenting a small, open area near the edge of the rooftop, set away and closed-off from the noise and commotion of the entire rest of the rooftop. A small dining table with two chairs had been set up near the railing of the edge, overlooking the bright lights of the city below. There was a crisp, white tablecloth and a single, lit candle in the center of the table, and on either side of the chairs were two large, decorative vases filled with dozens of bright yellow sunflowers.

Beth's mouth dropped open and she stared in awe, unable to comprehend that this was for her and Daryl. When he'd said it was a surprise, she certainly hadn't expected anything like this. Her heart was doing somersaults, and when she finally looked over to Daryl, she saw him watching her expectantly.

She smiled and raised her eyebrows, glancing at the setup again, still in disbelief. "This – is for us?"

"Fer you," Daryl rumbled, and smirked as her cheeks turned bright pink.

"Get settled in, I'll send the server in a couple minutes," Tyreese said, watching their interaction with an amused smile. "You guys want drinks?"

Daryl nodded. "Yeah – whatever's good."

Tyreese winked and nodded, giving them a brief thumbs-up. "Everything's good, man. I'll send a couple house cocktails, maybe a nice bottle of wine."

Beth couldn't stop smiling as she looked over at Tyreese and nodded. "This is – _so_ beautiful. Thank you."

Tyreese chuckled. "Don't mention it. I'm just glad t'see Daryl gettin' out there again, meetin' nice young ladies. Most of this was his idea, by the way.

Daryl scoffed but chuckled lightly. "Right – how 'bout those drinks, man?"

Tyreese laughed. "Alright – let the server know if you guys need anything. And if there's any problems, just let me know."

Beth and Daryl approached the table while Tyreese disappeared, heading back in the direction of the elevators. Beth was still gazing around, her head on a swivel as she tried to take in every beautiful detail of the rooftop and the view surrounding it. Before she could reach out for her chair, Daryl was stepping forward and pulling it out for her, a sheepish half-smile on his face.

She giggled quietly and smoothed down the back of her dress before sitting down on the chair, allowing Daryl to scoot her closer to the table before he walked around and took his own seat. She was grateful they were in dim lighting and outside at night, because she was sure her face was bright red at this point. She tried hard to suppress the grin that wanted to permanently plaster itself to her face.

"Wow – such a gentleman," she said teasingly, though she knew he could tell that she was seriously appreciative.

He shrugged, another sheepish smirk on his lips as he watched her with wistful eyes. "Yeah, well… I can be. When I got a reason ta be."

Beth bit down lightly on her lower lip, still smiling, then turned and gazed out at the view of the city below them. All the buildings and cars appeared so much smaller that it made her breath catch, and she couldn't help but marvel at the endless sea of steel, lights, and city life.

"It's so… _beautiful_ up here," she commented, her voice breathy and full of wonder.

"You like it?" Daryl asked. "'S kinda like Denise an' Tara's – but better."

Beth grinned and looked over at him, finding that he was still watching her with a dreamy gaze. "Are you kidding? I _love_ it. It's definitely better."

His lips grew into a full smile and her heart did a joyful leap inside her chest. He pointed out at the city, toward a tall building in the distance. "There's the Empire State Building," he said, then pointed to another tall building in the distance. "An' that's the Chrysler Building…"

She looked out to where he pointed, smiling and spotting the various landmarks as he named them. Then she glanced over her shoulder, at the vase of sunflowers sitting a few feet behind her. He looked back at her with a proud smirk and she asked, "Did you do that, too?"

He shrugged, still smirking. "Maybe. Can't say they don't spruce the place up a bit, though."

She giggled and nodded in agreement. "I really… wasn't expectin' this. I mean, not that I don't appreciate it, I just didn't want you t'go ta too much trouble – "

"Don't say that," he interrupted her, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table as he stared into her eyes. "Don't matter how much trouble it was. Yer worth it. Who else do I got ta do shit like this for?"

Beth looked down at the tablecloth sheepishly, shrugging and smoothing a tiny wrinkle in the cloth before looking back up to meet Daryl's gaze again. "Well, it means a lot… But I think I'd be happy doin' just about anything – with you."

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Daryl's mouth and he grunted, quickly glancing down at his hands. She barely heard him mumble, "Me, too."

The server appeared a few seconds later, a guy in his late twenties wearing a spotless, ironed uniform with colors that matched the partitions around the rooftop. His shiny, silver nametag read: _Ryan, Senior Hospitality Expert_. He smiled politely and set out two tall, colorful drinks garnished with fruit. Then he set out a bottle of wine near the edge of the table, and two small, laminated menus in front of Beth and Daryl. They thanked him and he gave them a few minutes to look over the menu, walking off quickly with the empty tray that had held the drinks.

While they looked over the menus in their hands, cursive script at the top of the pages reading ' _Sasha-Karen Rooftop Club_ ,' they chatted idly about the options they were debating between, commenting on some of the other dishes and their interesting names or ingredients. Then they gradually grew quiet, making their decisions silently, and Daryl set his menu down first, reaching out and grabbing the drink in front of him to take a tentative sip.

Beth placed her own menu down on the table and watched Daryl's face express his pleasant surprise with the drink as he pulled the glass away from his lips and gazed at it thoughtfully. Smiling faintly, she asked, "So how d'you know Tyreese?"

He set his glass down and rested his elbows on the table again, meeting her eyes. "Met 'im a couple years ago, he came inta the shop wantin' a couple custom bikes. Told him I'd build 'em for cheap since the shop ain't really got anybody that wants ta build customs, 'cept for me. He wanted some imported parts that were hard ta get but I got a guy that hooked it up. We go ridin' together every now an' then."

Beth raised her eyebrows, intrigued. "Oh, cool. He seems really nice."

Daryl nodded. "Yeah, he's a good guy. Used ta play in the NFL. Linebacker, I think. But he got injured a while back an' couldn't play anymore. Said he used all his savings ta buy this place an' turn it around. Now he's got all kinds of awards an' shit fer havin' one a the best spots in town fer locals. Pretty cool shit."

Beth's mouth made a small 'o' of surprise and she said, "Wow – _really_ cool."

He smirked and took another sip of his drink, and she looked at her own drink sitting before her. She picked it up and raised it to her lips hesitantly, breathing in the fruity scent before taking a small sip. It was sweet and then tart, but she couldn't even taste the alcohol. She took a longer swig, then set it down again to see the server, Ryan, approaching the table, prepared to take their food order.

Once their food was ordered and Ryan had taken the menus back and disappeared to fetch their appetizer, Beth and Daryl sat and sipped their drinks, chatting casually about how Tyreese had named the rooftop after his sister and his wife, and about some of the funny things Daryl recalled from some of his and Tyreese's rides together. Beth listened and smiled, chuckling at the funny parts and asking little questions about motorcycles here and there – mostly because she loved the way his eyes would light up when he talked about something he really loved. The appetizer arrived and they munched on calamari while continuing to chat and joke. Beth gazed out at the city lights below every couple of minutes, still amazed at the view.

The main course arrived quicker than she'd expected, or maybe time just passed faster when she was talking to Daryl and sitting with him. Ryan cleared away the empty appetizer dishes and replaced them with a medium-rare steak meal in front of Daryl and a shrimp linguini meal in front of Beth. Then he set out fresh drinks and glasses of water before disappearing again. The couple's conversation died down as they dug into their food, and Beth giggled when a loud " _mmmm_ " came from Daryl's throat.

She looked up at him and shook her head, smiling teasingly. He smirked back at her and winked playfully, and she rolled her eyes in return. She took another sip of her drink and watched Daryl shovel another forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth, nearly choking as she let out another laugh.

"Feels weird havin' supper without Mal," she commented, and he looked up to meet her eyes and half-smile while he chewed and swallowed his bite of food.

He nodded. "Yeah, it does. Ain't used ta finishin' my own food so fast."

Beth giggled and took another bite of shrimp linguini.

"Oh, that reminds me," Daryl said. "What would ya think about meetin' my buddy, Dwight, an' his wife?"

Beth furrowed her brow briefly, then shrugged. "Like… when?"

Daryl shrugged back and took a sip of his drink. "I'ono, this weekend? Carol's wantin' ta take Mal fer a night, they're doin' some overnight thing at the museum fer little kids."

"You don't wanna take him?" She asked.

He shook his head. "Didn't even know about it. But nah, museums ain't my thing. 'Sides, she's gonna have a helluva time keepin' his hands off everythin' in sight."

Beth chuckled. "Right. So what're you wantin' to do?"

Daryl shrugged and took another bite of his steak, quickly chewing it and swallowing it with a thoughtful look on his face. Then he said, "I'ono. Figured I'd ask Dwight tomorrow, see what him an' his ol' lady wanna do."

 _Meeting Dwight already,_ she thought, gazing back at Daryl. _Someone else from Georgia… but how can I say no? He'd take it personally, or he'd think I really am way too paranoid and fucked-up. What are the chances that this guy could even recognize me?_

She nodded. "Okay – I'm in."

He continued watching her, like he was studying her, and she gave him a quizzical look. Then he asked, "You sure? Don't gotta say yes if yer not ready…"

Her stomach fluttered a little and Beth smiled, afraid the doubt was showing on her face. "I am, though. I mean, you said he's been your friend for years – an' I'm really tryin' ta… move forward."

Daryl nodded, understanding what she meant.

It wasn't a total lie. She knew that, realistically, Dwight hadn't lived in Georgia for years, and what were the chances he or his wife would recognize her, or know her from somewhere? Slim to none. Or at least that's what she told herself. Plus, she had to stop appearing so paranoid, especially considering how much Carol was picking up on lately. Beth knew she couldn't continue to _act_ like a wanted fugitive, or else someone would put the pieces together on their own.

Or worse, Daryl would grow sick of it and decide she was far too damaged to waste his time on.

A faint half-smile formed on Daryl's mouth and he rumbled, "I think you'll like 'em. Dwight's been talkin' about havin' a ' _double_ _date'_ all week." He rolled his eyes when he said the words 'double date.'

Beth giggled and nodded. "Well then, double date it is. Got any ideas for what we might do?"

They both paused to take bites of their food, then Daryl replied, "A few."

She smirked and began wondering what he might be planning as they both returned to eating, finishing the last of their meals. They sat and sipped on their drinks, plates empty before them, chatting about funny things Mal had said and drifting to Daryl telling a few funny stories from when Mal was a baby. Beth laughed loudly at a couple of parts, and she barely noticed when Ryan showed up to clear away their plates and present them with dessert menus.

"Oh my gosh, I think I might burst out of this dress if I eat any more," Beth chuckled, looking over at Daryl across her small menu.

He smirked back at her. "Not possible. How 'bout we share somethin'?"

She nodded sheepishly. "Okay. What d'you wanna get?"

They looked over their options and decided on a fancy slice of cheesecake, which Ryan brought out within just a few minutes. Then he offered to open their bottle of wine and fill the wine glasses that had been sitting on the table. Daryl looked to Beth and she shrugged, so he nodded and thanked Ryan, who opened the bottle and poured two full glasses for the couple. Then he disappeared again, leaving them to their plate of cheesecake in the middle of the table and their glasses of wine.

"Fancy," Beth wiggled her eyebrows playfully at Daryl and he chuckled, taking a small bite of cheesecake with his fork. She took her own bite right after, then a long sip of the wine. She braced herself for the tart taste, remembering the couple of times in her life that she'd tasted wine. But this was different – sweet and delicious, sliding down her throat almost too smoothly.

"How's the wine?" Daryl asked, picking up his own glass and gazing down at it, raising it to his nose to take a sniff.

"I'm no wine expert, but I think it's delicious," Beth replied, taking another small bite of cheesecake as she watched him take a tentative sip. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and took a larger sip. She chuckled. "'Member when you told me you only drank when you couldn't sleep?"

He grunted and half-smiled at her, wine glass still in hand. "Yeah, well, that an' special occasions. I'd call this a special occasion."

She blushed lightly and asked, "Sittin' on the couch together is a special occasion, too?"

He didn't look away from her eyes as he mumbled, "When it's with you, yeah."

The blush grew brighter on her cheeks and she looked down to scoop up another small bite of cheesecake, suppressing the grin that wanted to appear on her face.

They finished their dessert quietly, joking and flirting and chatting a little more. Ryan didn't show up as quickly as he had been, leaving them to enjoy their wine together in peace. As the night got darker around them and more stars appeared faintly in the sky, the music from the bar area got a little bit louder, and Beth recognized the sound of a live band playing across the rooftop. After two glasses of wine, her head was becoming swimmy, but it was a good feeling. The food settled in her stomach and she and Daryl grew chattier, smiled more, and laughed louder.

They were sharing funny stories from when they were younger, most of Daryl's involved Dwight or some people that Daryl didn't talk to anymore, while most of Beth's were from school or situations that didn't involve her sister. Then Daryl was telling another story about Mal, and the strangest feeling arose in her chest, finding its way up to her head.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or just the relaxed environment they were in, or maybe Beth was finally admitting to herself that she couldn't continue hiding quite so much. That little thought was drifting in and out of her head, reminding her that eventually, something would slip out, something wouldn't make sense, and she'd have to answer for more senseless lies. What better time to begin the long process of coming clean than when her inhibitions were the slightest bit lowered?

Not really coming clean, though. She wasn't _that_ brave. But there were those little lies, the things she'd made up and avoided this whole time out of fear and paranoia. The broken little stories she'd told without much thought, in hopes that no one would recognize the details of her life. They were a good place to start. A good opportunity to be able to tell Daryl the truth about at least _some_ parts of her past.

She took a long sip of wine after chuckling at the conclusion of one of Daryl's stories, and he did the same. Then he turned his head and gazed out at the view of the city, one arm slung over the back of his chair as he leaned back. Beth looked out at the view for a bit, too, but then turned back to gaze at Daryl. His hair ruffled slightly in the light breeze, and she wondered what was going on in his mind. She wondered if the wine was going to his head, too. He had a reminiscent look in his eyes.

She rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward, rubbing her right thumb into the skin just below the scar on her left wrist. He didn't seem to notice her watching him, and despite the liquid courage in her system, Beth's heart began to beat a little faster.

"Can I… tell you somethin'?" Her voice came out quieter than she'd intended, but Daryl heard her clearly and turned his head to meet her gaze.

"'Course," he replied, furrowing his brow as he studied her face quizzically.

She licked her lips and glanced down at the tablecloth, at the base of the candle sitting in the center. "About… my family. An' how I didn't – exactly… tell the truth about them."

A lump formed in her throat and she struggled to swallow past it. She looked up to see Daryl's expression, but he didn't appear angry or confused. Just intrigued.

His voice was tentative as he rumbled, "What d'ya mean…?"

Beth looked down again, focused on the shiny silver of the candleholder. "I didn't… well, I was scared. An' really paranoid. I was afraid he'd – _find_ me. If anybody knew any facts about me. I thought, if he came lookin' for me, askin' around, and people knew that I had a brother an' a sister and – well, I thought he'd _know_ it was me, and he'd find me."

Daryl was stroking his chin hair thoughtfully, watching Beth intently as she spoke. He nodded and she met his eyes again. Still no anger.

"Yeah, kinda figured," he mumbled.

She furrowed her brow. "You… did?"

He nodded again, then gave the smallest shrug, still stroking his chin hair. "You been like a deer on the highway fer the last three weeks. Skittish, scared, ya jump at every little noise. But then ya get caught in the headlights, yer stories don't add up – I get it. Figured you'd tell me eventually… Glad ya did. Don't gotta hide stuff like that. Ain't no reason ta be _that_ paranoid. Don't care who he is, he ain't trackin' ya down like that. I wouldn't let 'im."

Beth was still unsure of his reaction and she continued watching him, bracing herself. "Guess I'm pretty transparent sometimes…"

He smirked and she felt her shoulders relax. He rumbled, "Maybe jus' ta me."

 _And Carol,_ she thought.

"You're not… upset?" She asked softly.

Daryl shrugged. "Prob'ly woulda been upset if ya hadn't felt like you could tell me the truth. Then again, ain't necessarily my business. Not like I wanna talk about _my_ shitty family, I could understand why ya didn't wanna talk about yers. But I already told ya… ain't gotta hide nothin' from me."

She nodded and smiled weakly, then gazed down at her hands, picking at her fingernail instead of the scar. "Well, I… wasn't raised by my brothers. I only have one brother, and a sister, an' they're both older than me. My mom didn't leave – but she did die. It's not my dad that died – he's… in prison."

A long couple seconds of silence passed, in which Daryl appeared to be processing this information, then he muttered, "Damn… alright. Well, that makes a lot more sense."

Beth looked up and hesitantly into his eyes, but she didn't see disappointment. He was studying her, fiddling with his chin hair again, his other hand loosely wrapped around the wine glass.

Then he nodded slowly and said, "My ol' man was in prison, too. Few times. How long's yers got?"

She blinked, a bit surprised at the casual tone to his voice. She replied softly, "Dunno… a long time. Life, I think."

Daryl _tsk_ ed, then said, "Sucks. Sorry ta hear that… Easier ta say he's dead when it's like that."

She nodded, watching his eyes as he slowly pieced together a new image of her in his head. Or maybe it was just making more sense to him now.

"Guess we got a li'l more in common than I thought," he said, voice a bit quieter and deeper. The look he was giving her said, 'me, too,' and she remembered how he'd told her that his mom passed away when he was younger.

"You were… a kid when your mom died?" She asked without thinking.

But he didn't seem to mind, taking a quick sip of his wine before replying, "Yeah, pretty young. Went an' got herself burnt up in that house fire. Fell asleep smokin', they said. I wasn't home at the time… What about yers?"

Beth frowned, feeling a stab of sympathy for Daryl. She wondered just how young he was when that happened, and how much of his dad's abuse he'd had to endure all alone. She answered quietly, "She was… murdered. With my brother."

Daryl's brow furrowed and he leaned forward a bit, eyes focused intently on Beth. "Jesus – yer brother got killed, too?"

She nodded, suddenly realizing there were tears burning behind her eyes. She quickly blinked them away and swallowed hard, then feigned a small smile as if to assure Daryl that it was all in the past. "Yeah. Less than a year ago. But… my sister's still back at home."

 _I can't tell him she's in prison, too,_ she thought to herself, quickly grabbing her glass of wine and taking a long sip as Daryl watched her thoughtfully. _I'd rather pretend she's not, anyway._

"You still talk to her?" He asked. "On the phone or whatever?"

She shrugged, thinking back to how she'd lied about talking on the phone to Irma. That relationship was a lot tougher to explain – it would make more sense to say she talked to her sister.

"Yeah," she answered simply.

"Know it don't mean much, but… I can see why ya didn't wanna tell the truth about that," he muttered. "I don't even mention my mom mosta the time, an' that was twenty-somethin' years ago."

Beth nodded weakly and took another sip of wine.

"Wasn't yer… dad, was it?" He asked tentatively, and she gave him a quizzical look. He elaborated, "That… killed 'em?"

She quickly shook her head. "No – no way. He… loves us. Always did. Jus'…"

Her voice trailed off, and when she couldn't find the right words, Daryl finished for her, "Shit happens."

She nodded in agreement and lifted the wine glass to her lips once more. Daryl was gazing out at the city again, and she looked out as well, admiring the view for the thousandth time.

Then she asked, "You said your dad's gone, too… right?"

She saw him nod from the corner of her eye and he rumbled, "Long gone. 'Fore I left Georgia. My brother really spun out afterwards."

Beth pursed her lips and watched a plane in the distance as its white-and-red lights faded into the darkness. A long moment of silence passed, but it wasn't tense or awkward. There seemed to be a new thread of connection formed between them. Or maybe it was just in Beth's head. But she didn't think she was imagining the look in Daryl's eyes when he gazed at her. For a second, she debated pouring out all her other secrets. Right here, on this rooftop, with the candle flickering low between them. But the urge faded quickly, and she swallowed down the words.

"Wanna hit the bar?" His low voice interrupted her thoughts and she looked over at him. "They got a dancefloor."

She smiled in surprise and raised her eyebrows at him. "A dancefloor?"

He nodded.

"You gonna dance with me?" She asked, her smile growing wider.

He shrugged nonchalantly and quickly drained the last of the wine in his glass, setting the glass down and standing up. "Maybe. If ya get a couple more drinks in me." Daryl buttoned his jacket together again, leaving the rest unbuttoned, then pulled out his wallet and dug out a couple of bills, slipping them beneath his empty wine glass while Beth drained the last of her own wine. Then he put his wallet away and walked around to her side of the table, holding out his hand.

She smiled sheepishly and took his hand gently, standing from her chair. Then he kept hold of her hand and led her away from the little table and the closed-off corner of the rooftop, back in the direction they'd come. They weaved between partitions and past people and employees, quickly finding the bar as the music got louder.

The bar area was filled with people now, more than Beth would've expected on a Thursday night. Some of them glanced at Beth and Daryl, but most didn't pay them any attention. They slipped through the crowd until they could see a small stage set up on the other side of the bar, where a band of four men were playing right in front of a large, open area where people were dancing. Beth recognized the song as a cover of The Killers' "Mr. Brightside," and she watched the band play, intrigued. It made her hands itch to play the guitar again. She let Daryl lead her to a small table for two near the dancefloor, where she sat down and continued watching the band while he went to the bar and ordered drinks.

When Daryl returned to the table and took his seat across from Beth, drinks set in front of them, the band had begun playing a cover of Survivor's "High On You." Beth thanked Daryl for the drink and took a sip as she tapped her foot to the music, quietly singing along to the song as she watched the band perform. Daryl watched and sipped his drink, nodding his head lightly to the song.

In between songs, the singer/lead guitarist paused and grabbed his microphone, waving out to the small crowd that was dancing and the larger crowd that was watching from around the bar. He said, "Thanks, everybody! We're Uptown Girls, and no, we don't play any Billy Joel covers. We will be taking requests – tip your servers!"

Beth smiled and Daryl glanced over, smirking when he saw her face. As the guitar started up again, she took another sip of her drink and leaned in closer to say, "This is awesome!"

He smiled wider and nodded in agreement, then raised his glass silently as a rock cover of Mario's "Let Me Love You" began to play. Beth raised her glass, as well, and they gently tapped them together in cheers, then simultaneously took large swigs. She couldn't stop grinning as she watched the band energetically perform, and met Daryl's eyes every few minutes, sharing a look of contentment and a shy smile.

The band played a few more covers, a handful of people walking up to the edge of the stage between songs to make requests. Beth and Daryl finished their first drinks and Daryl got them another round as they tapped their feet and nodded their heads to the music, sipping their drinks and loosening up in the carefree environment. There were several other young couples around them, dancing on the dancefloor, kissing, and talking animatedly while they drank or threw back shots near the bar or at their tables. Beth could feel herself fading into the crowd, growing comfortable with her surroundings as the alcohol swam through her system.

Daryl glanced over at her a few more times than usual and she began to wonder what he was thinking about, then he flashed her a mischievous smirk and stood up. She looked up at him quizzically as he slipped off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair, but he gestured for her to stay put, then he walked away and approached the edge of the stage just as the band finished their song. He was the first in line, and the singer leaned down to talk to Daryl quietly. Beth watched as Daryl spoke to the singer, then turned his head and briefly pointed in her direction, then talked some more. She furrowed her brow and watched as the singer grinned and nodded enthusiastically, and Daryl smiled before shaking his hand and walking away.

He rejoined Beth at the table and held out his hand, nodding his head toward the dancefloor. Her brow was still furrowed in confusion, then she heard the singer speaking into the microphone.

"Alright, this next one is for Rosie and Daryl! Here we go…"

Her heart thumped in her chest and she grinned up at him. He just smirked, still holding his hand out, and she quickly took it and stood up, letting him lead her to the dancefloor.

" _Oh, don't you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me. I said, you're holdin' back – she said, shut up and dance with me!_ "

The music started and she immediately recognized the song, finding a spot toward the middle of the dancefloor with Daryl as he took both of her hands in his, a bashful smile on his face while he barely shuffled his feet. She grinned in excitement and clasped his hands tightly, beginning to dance.

The singer belted out the lyrics into the microphone, drums vibrating inside Beth's chest as the people around her began dancing happily, some of them singing along. "… _She said, shut up and dance with me! This wo-oman is my destiny, she said, ooh-hoo! Shut up and DANCE with me!_ "

The other instruments kicked in and the dancing crowd came to life, moving and swaying enthusiastically. Beth felt the alcohol really kicking in now, as she danced around and tried to get Daryl to dance with her. He moved a bit, but he was still way too shy to be dancing so openly in public. Beth giggled and moved his arms around with her as she danced, heart thumping in her chest along with the drums as she moved around happily, swaying her hips and hopping around on her toes, a big grin on her face. She mouthed along to the words, _"…We were bound to be together, bound to be together!_ " And watched as Daryl chuckled at her, then he lifted one of her hands above her head and spun her around dramatically. She laughed loudly and continued dancing.

They were both panting and trying to catch their breath by the time the song ended, and as the next song started up, they headed back to the table together, hand-in-hand. Daryl sat back down in his chair, leaving his jacket hanging on the back, and Beth sat in her chair before grabbing her drink and taking a long sip.

"So is that like, _our song_ now?" She asked playfully, speaking loudly over the music and grinning at him across the table.

He shrugged and smirked. "Jus' about the only song I ever danced to – an' I know _you_ like it."

She chuckled and grinned again.

They sat and finished their drinks as they continued to watch the band play. After a couple more songs, Daryl brought another round of drinks from the bar. Beth tapped her foot along to the music, singing along to the songs she knew and glancing at Daryl every now and then. When she needed to go to the restroom, he insisted on walking her there, and she couldn't say she hated that.

As the band finished playing a cover of Weezer's "Buddy Holly," he leaned forward and said, "Wanna come with me ta have a smoke?" He pointed with his thumb in the direction of the balcony behind him, on the other side of the dancefloor, where there was a designated smoking area.

Beth nodded and grabbed her glass, throwing back the last of her drink before setting the glass back down while Daryl slipped his jacket back on. His glass was already empty, and he held out his hand for her to take, then began to lead her across the dancefloor to get to the other side. But then the music started up again, and she immediately recognized the song: "Earth Angel." She stopped and tugged on Daryl's hand, and he stopped as well, looking back at her quizzically.

"Oh, I _love_ this song!" She said over the music, grinning.

Other couples began filling the dancefloor around them, coming together for slow dances. Daryl glanced around, then back to Beth before giving a faint smile.

The singer began softly into the microphone, " _Earth angel, earth angel, will you be mi-ine? My darling dear, love you a-all the time. I'm just a fool, a fool in love with yo-ou…_ "

Beth's grin grew larger as Daryl shrugged and turned to face his body to her, stepping forward and grabbing her other hand to place it on his shoulder. Then he placed his free hand on her hip and pulled her in close, slowly and carefully stepping around in a half-dancing motion. She giggled and moved along with him, faintly remembering the slow dance at her junior prom – the only prom she'd ever gone to. This was _so_ much better.

" _Ple-ease be mine, my darling de-ear… love you all the time…_ "

She silently mouthed along to the words as she gazed up into Daryl's eyes and swayed slowly along with him, and he smirked down at her sheepishly, squeezing her hand. Near the end of the song, she leaned in and rested her head against his chest as they swayed, carefully and slowly stepping together. She felt him kiss the top of her head softly, and she could feel him humming along to the song in his chest.

The song ended all too quickly for Beth's liking, her head swirling with elation and a permanent smile plastered to her face. When the rooftop grew a little quieter again and the band prepared to play their next song, she pulled her head away and stepped back.

"You didn't have ta slow dance jus' for me, ya know," she said, still smiling up at him.

He shrugged. "'S a good song," he said, and began pulling her hand to come along with him as he led her off the dancefloor and toward the smoking area.

There were half a dozen other people on the smoking balcony, hanging out and chatting amongst themselves with drinks in their hands and cigarette smoke swirling up and away against the night sky. Daryl pulled his pack out and leaned against the railing of the balcony, Beth standing beside him and resting her hands on the railing to look out at the city. He lit up his cigarette and took a long drag, then turned to look out at the city, as well. The people around them were talking about people they'd dated and what they did for a living, some others were talking about their kids or what they were studying in school. But Beth was lost in her own head as she gazed out at the sea of lights, Daryl's arm lightly bumping against hers as another cloud of smoke left his lips and floated up into the darkness.

"This was… the _best_ date I've ever had," she said, Daryl's cigarette half-smoked. He turned his head and looked at her with a small smirk.

"Yeah?" He asked.

She nodded, smiling. "Definitely."

He grunted. "Dunno if I can ever top it, but… "

"You don't need to," she chuckled softly. "Trust me."

Daryl snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her in until their hips were touching, leaving his hand resting on her upper thigh, above the hem of her dress. She rested her head against him and continued gazing out at the city while he smoked. And she wondered if she'd ever feel this happy again, or if it could really last. The gun and the truth about what she'd done, why she'd come to New York, was still lingering in the back of her mind, taunting her.

She wrapped an arm around Daryl's middle and pulled him closer.

* * *

"Sure you ain't cold?" Daryl asked.

They had left the rooftop, stopping and saying goodbye and another thank you to Tyreese before finding their way to the front doors and out onto the sidewalk. They were walking home, arm-in-arm, stumbling just the slightest bit every now and then while Beth giggled half-drunkenly. Daryl had bought a tall cup of coffee before leaving, and he carried it in his free hand, taking sips every few seconds. She shook her head and he chuckled, walking at a slower pace than normal. The sidewalks were busier than usual with other people, but Beth didn't seem to notice them as much right now.

"I'm fine – I think the booze helped warm me up," she joked, and he chuckled again.

Their laughter died down as they walked, chatting casually about the rooftop club and what Tyreese had done to the rest of the building, how he stayed busy with running a hotel and a club at the same time. Then Daryl talked a bit more about Dwight and Sherry, and a couple memories he had from his younger days in Georgia. The walk seemed to take much less time than before, and before Beth knew it, they were walking through the East Village again.

She was telling him a story about one of the first times she'd ridden her horse, Princess, and he smirked as he listened. "…an' I didn't know that my sister was right around the corner on her horse, so I – "

But then a loud voice interrupted her, catching both their attentions as it came from a passing car, "NICE ASS, SLUT!"

Her brows furrowed and her stomach dropped as she looked over at the same time as Daryl, both of them spotting a young guy half-hanging out of a car's passenger side window as he yelled at her. The car rolled past quickly, in the lane closest to the sidewalk. Beth could hear Daryl growl from low in his throat.

"Hey, FUCK YOU!" Daryl shouted loudly, watching the car drive on to the stoplight at the end of the block.

Beth sighed and they continued walking, but Daryl was picking up his pace and she pulled her arm out of his, grabbing it. "Daryl, it's fine – "

He laughed humorlessly and pointed up ahead with his free hand, glancing back at her. "Look at that shit – he's stopped at the light!"

She furrowed her brow and watched quizzically as he grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him, half-jogging down the sidewalk. She picked up her own pace, grateful that she'd worn flats and not heels. "So what?"

"C'mon, we're gonna teach that dickweed a lesson," he called over his shoulder, and she couldn't refrain from grinning in excitement and running to keep up with Daryl.

They reached the end of the block within seconds, and Daryl ran faster to purposely get ahead of Beth. Then he approached the car that had driven past, the passenger's window still down. Beth could see the guy from where she stood, and she paused in place as she watched him talking to his friend in the driver's seat while Daryl ran up. He didn't even realize Daryl was heading towards him until the full cup of coffee was being tossed through his window, hitting him directly in the face and splashing everywhere.

"What the FUCK!" The guy cried from inside the car, wiping at his eyes. With perfect timing, the stoplight turned green and all the cars began to move, and Daryl immediately turned and dashed back to Beth.

"Go, _go_!" He laughed, grabbing her hand and pulling her down the sidewalk with him as they ran away.

They could still hear the guy yelling angrily while they ran as fast as they could down the block, but his voice faded away and they knew he'd had no choice but to go straight down the street and out of sight. They were only a couple blocks from the apartment building, and as they reached the end of the block, they slowed, panting breathlessly. They crossed the street hurriedly and walked at a slower pace, and their surroundings became more familiar to Beth. She was still laughing and trying to catch her breath.

"I can't _believe_ you did that," she panted, grinning as she squeezed Daryl's hand and looked up at him.

He smirked back. "Couldn't pass up an opportunity like that. 'Sides, coffee was gettin' cold, didn't hurt him or nothin' – even though I woulda liked to."

She laughed and leaned in closer to him as they walked together.

The apartment building came into view a few minutes later and they breathed a collective sigh of relief, exhausted from the long night. Daryl held open the front door for Beth and she entered the quiet, empty lobby, waiting for him to join her before heading for the stairs. They climbed the three flights slowly, legs aching from walking and dancing. Daryl made a joke about being too old for so much physical activity and Beth scoffed, assuring him that wasn't true.

The third floor landing was quiet and apartment 3B appeared dark. They approached the door to apartment 3A and Daryl unlocked the door, letting Beth step inside first and turn on the lights before entering and locking the door behind them. Beth headed straight for the fridge while Daryl unbuttoned his jacket and hung his keys up.

"Want a water?" She called from the kitchen, pulling out two bottles of water and closing the fridge.

He appeared in the doorway to the kitchen and held out his hand, taking the water and immediately opening it to drink gratefully. Beth did the same, finding her mouth dry from the walk home and the excess of alcohol throughout the evening.

"Gonna get this thing off," Daryl mumbled, heading toward his bedroom while slipping off the suit jacket.

Beth did the same, slipping into her bedroom and changing out of the dress. She put on some pajamas and checked her phone, scrolling through news sites and assuring herself she wasn't missing any big updates. There was nothing new pertaining to her or her family, so she set her phone back down and went to the bathroom.

After using the restroom and washing her face, she left the bathroom to see that Daryl's bedroom door was open, but she couldn't hear him moving around. Curiously, she stepped into the doorway and peeked inside to see his empty bottle of water sitting on the nightstand, next to the framed photo that was still sitting face-down. And on the bed, Daryl was lying atop the covers, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a black wifebeater, hands behind his head and eyes closed.

"What're you doin'?" She asked, and he opened his eyes to look over at her.

He smirked and nodded his head toward the empty spot next to him. "Waitin' fer you."

Beth smiled and stepped lightly over the carpet until she got to the bed, climbing up on the end and crawling up to take the empty spot next to Daryl. She scooted in close to him and felt the warmth of his body radiating against her skin.

"Don't wanna watch TV or anything?" She asked, watching him as his eyes drifted shut again.

He shrugged. "Not really. You ready fer bed? I'm pretty beat."

She nodded, admitting to herself that the alcohol was beginning to make her pretty sleepy. "Me, too – I'll get the light."

She crawled back out of bed to shut off the light and close the bedroom door, then returned to her spot to find Daryl beneath the covers. She slipped beneath them, as well, and cuddled up close to him. Mal's nightlight was still plugged in on the other side of the room and it cast a dim glow over the bedroom, just enough that Beth could rest her head on Daryl's chest and see the overturned photo still sitting on the nightstand.

She wanted to ask about it. Wanted to ask Daryl if he felt guilty, or if he felt ashamed. Wanted to ask him if he thought Lucy would disapprove of her, if he felt like he was somehow letting Lucy down or betraying her memory. But she wasn't quite buzzed enough to muster up the courage. She didn't want to risk ruining the pleasant mood they were both in from the evening. So she closed her eyes and turned her face in a different direction, listening closely to Daryl's heartbeat as it sped up a bit rather than slowed down.

Then she felt his arm lifting from where it was wrapped around her, and his fingers were running through her hair, petting her head and massaging her scalp, playing with the strands of dark hair. She hummed quietly, goosebumps forming up and down her arms as her whole body relaxed. His heartbeat was slowing against her ear.

"I can't believe you threw your coffee on that guy," Beth said quietly, smiling to herself at the memory.

Daryl chuckled beneath her, chest rising and falling rapidly. "Lucky I didn't do somethin' worse."

"Guess that's what I get for wearin' such a short dress," she mumbled sarcastically.

He scoffed. "You looked great – don't mean some random asshole's gotta yell obnoxious comments out his window."

She smirked to herself sheepishly and muttered, "Thanks…"

He continued playing with her hair, sending chills through her body. Then, riding on the last waves of liquid courage, she lifted her head from his chest and leaned down to meet his lips. She couldn't explain why she still felt so flustered with him, so nervous and shy. She tried to remind herself this was her boyfriend now.

 _Boyfriend… doesn't sound right for him,_ she thought, his chapped lips rough against hers. But he was still kissing her back just as softly as he always did, and his hand had moved to grasp the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair.

Their breathing grew heavier as their kiss deepened, lips parting to allow the others' tongue to explore. Beth felt that familiar heat and tightness building up inside her, and she was mentally counting down the days until she was healed. Daryl pulled her just a little closer, pressing his lips harder against hers. Then he seemed to catch himself and pull back. She opened her eyes to meet his.

His hand was still grasping the back of her head, and he whispered breathily, "Makin' this real difficult for me… We still got another week."

She smirked and gazed back at him with hooded eyes, whispering back, "I know… you don't think it's just as difficult for me?"

He smirked and rumbled, "I mean – there's _other_ things we could do…"

She quirked an eyebrow and smiled mischievously. "Yeah?"

He nodded and leaned in to kiss her again, slipping his tongue between her lips. Then she felt his other hand reaching over and firmly cupping her ass, pulling the rest of her body toward him. She followed his cues and sat up, throwing a leg over him and straddling his lap while she leaned down and continued kissing him. They pushed the blankets down to the end of the bed, their bodies heating up almost instantly. His fingers massaged the back of her head while the other hand grasped her ass, teasing the spot between her thighs with his fingers as they got dangerously close, igniting a whole new heat between her legs.

She squirmed atop him and felt him smiling against her mouth, so she kissed him a little harder, nibbling down on his lower lip. He growled from his throat and his hand immediately let go of her ass, only to rear back and connect his palm with the fatty part of her ass cheek in a loud ' _slap.'_ She gasped in surprise, a jolt of pleasure coursing through her body, then slipped her hand behind his head to grab a handful of dark hair before kissing him even deeper, biting down on his lower lip harder than before. He growled again, but it ended as more of a groan in his throat.

As they continued to kiss, and Daryl's hands wandered from her ass to her hips and then up to her breasts, beneath her thin shirt, Beth writhed against him. She pressed herself down against his crotch and felt his erection growing quickly, getting harder and harder, twitching every time she grinded against it through the cotton of her panties and the fabric of his boxers. He was making low groans every time he felt her against him, and before she knew it, there was a tense, pulsing ache in her panties.

His rough hands gently massaged her breasts, teasing her nipples and eliciting breathy moans from her lips and against his mouth. He kissed her hungrily, bucking his hips just slightly upward, obviously holding himself back as his body searched for hers any time that she wasn't grinding against him. He slid his hand down from her breasts, across her soft tummy, to the waistband of her panties, slipping his fingers beneath the elastic and teasing the sensitive skin there.

Beth pressed herself against him harder, Daryl's hard cock twitching beneath his boxers. She could feel a damp spot of precome forming on the fabric as it brushed against her inner thigh, and she grinned against his lips while his fingers tickled and teased her.

He pulled back half an inch and whispered out, "Can I touch you? Or are you…"

She nodded eagerly. "I'm not bleeding anymore – "

He quickly kissed her as she pressed down against his erection. Then he pulled back again and growled, "Blood don't scare me – jus' wanted ta make sure yer okay with it."

She smirked and kissed him hungrily again, breaking apart just long enough to pull her shirt off and toss it to the floor. In the dim glow of the nightlight, she saw him bite down on his swollen lower lip and look her up and down, sliding both his hands down to grasp her hips and hold her before him like a piece of art while he admired her, eyes lingering on her chest a few seconds longer than anywhere else. She felt herself blushing, but then he was pulling her back down and eagerly placing his lips around her nipple, fingers digging into the tender skin of her hips as he sucked on her breast. She moaned out, louder than intended, and grinded against his erection once again. He groaned from his throat and switched to the other nipple, nibbling lightly and eliciting a surprised ' _oh!_ ' of pleasure from Beth's mouth.

Then he pulled back and cupped her breast firmly in his hand, keeping her sitting atop him and straddling his twitching erection, while his other hand reached down into her panties and found her swollen clit. When his calloused fingers found it, she let out a moan of pleasure, and he pressed into it hard, massaging her breast with the other hand and occasionally tweaking her nipple. He rubbed in circular motions with two fingers, speeding up while his hard cock pressed against her through the fabrics of their underwear.

"Oh, _Daryl_ ," Beth moaned out, eyes shut as she let the waves of pleasure wash over her, forming deep in her gut and spreading outward. The tightness inside her was getting firmer.

She heard him groan quietly, then felt his hand leave her breast and pull her down to him, grasping the back of her neck as they kissed hungrily. His fingers continued to work her clit, rubbing furiously, pausing and teasing her, switching directions every few seconds. Her legs twitched and she felt him smiling proudly against her lips.

When he pulled his head back just enough to breathe, he whispered out in a low, husky voice, "Lemme watch you touch yerself."

She opened her eyes and stared at him in disbelief for a second, then his fingers did that one thing again and she jolted against his hand, gasping in sharply. Suddenly, the idea sounded… _really_ good. Even though she'd never done anything like that before – and she was a little self-conscious of letting someone watch her like that.

"I've – never… are you sure?" She panted out breathlessly, trying to form sentences around the shocks of pleasure that were randomly coursing through her as Daryl's fingers continued relentlessly.

Her eyes fluttered shut but she could see a tiny smirk form on his lips from beneath her eyelashes. He whispered back, "Is it too weird… if we watch each other?"

She lifted her eyelids and gazed at his face in the dim lighting, a look that she hadn't seen many times. As closed-off as he normally was, he was certainly more open in the bedroom. Or maybe Beth was just way too inexperienced to be sleeping with a guy like this.

However, that thought quickly fled as she watched Daryl bite down on his lower lip and felt his fingers moving in _that_ direction on her clit, causing her to squirm atop him. She gasped in sharply again, then smiled mischievously, matching Daryl's expression.

She leaned in and kissed him deeply, slowly. Then she pulled back, their lips still barely touching, and breathed out, "Is that gonna get you off…?"

She felt him shudder beneath her and he nodded, quickly kissing her, fingers working vigorously at her clit. She moaned into his mouth and he bucked upward, against her inner thigh. Before she could do anything else, Daryl was stopping what he'd been doing and grabbing her by the hips, flipping her over and lying her on her back on the bed, while he got up onto his knees and slipped his boxers off. Beth followed suit and slipped her panties off, then gazed up and made eye contact with him in the low light. His eyes were dark and hooded, full of hunger. He positioned himself between her legs, eyes slowly drifting down her body until he was staring longingly at the small, blonde patch between her thighs. She quickly slid her hand down, fingers finding her clit as she stared at Daryl, eyelids hanging heavy over licentious eyes.

She watched him reach out and grab her leg with one hand while the other went to his hard cock, standing erect between his legs and glistening with precome. He groaned as his fingers wrapped around the throbbing shaft and he watched Beth slowly rubbing her clit, gradually picking up speed while her breathing hitched. His hand began to stroke, working at a faster rhythm as he watched her touching herself. She glanced between his cock and his face, watching the pleasure wash over him and feeling it reverberating through herself. The tension built higher and higher somewhere below her gut, the sight of Daryl with his hand wrapped around his hard cock sending waves of pleasure through her. A pleasure she'd never really thought about, let alone experienced. There was something extremely satisfying about seeing him stroking his thick cock, his eyes glued to her body, knowing he was getting off to the sight of her.

" _Fuck_ , yer sexy," he growled out, sliding his hand down to grip her thigh while he stroked himself, biting down on his lower lip. His eyes were glued to her body, watching every motion she made between her legs.

Her legs twitched again and she let out a little moan, eyelids fluttering. She pressed harder into the spot on her clit and continued rubbing, staring back at Daryl with a mischievous smirk. She licked her lips and moaned out again, fingers moving faster as she felt herself reaching climax.

He nodded toward her and she saw his thumb flick over the head of his cock, his lips parting and gasping in slightly. He grunted, "You gonna come?" She realized that he could already recognize her body's signals and signs.

Beth gasped again and quickly nodded, her voice higher-pitched than usual as she breathed out, "Y-yeah…"

She could see Daryl's hand tighten around his cock and he stroked a little faster, watching her intently as she continued rubbing her clit, bringing herself closer and closer to the edge. Then, she was there, and it was inching over the shore and suddenly washing over her. Every muscle in her body momentarily tensed and she gasped loudly, fingers freezing as the orgasm overtook her.

Daryl's fingers dug into her thigh and her eyes had slammed shut, but she could hear him growling, "Yeah – _come_ , baby. Fuck… I'm gonna come, too."

Beth's breath hitched at his words and another wave of pleasure submerged her in the midst of her orgasm. She forced her eyes to open and stared ahead at Daryl, his hand working vigorously at his throbbing, glistening cock. She could see him tensing up, and as she relaxed and let the aftershock of the orgasm leave her body, she watched his eyes shut and his head tip back, mouth agape as he groaned loudly and his hand froze. Pearly white come spurted from his cock, spilling over the head and onto his hand. He gave a couple more long strokes, and Beth felt a whole new kind of pleasure igniting inside her as she watched. He shuddered with the last of his orgasm, and his muscles appeared to relax as he let go of his cock and let out a deep sigh of relief.

She didn't look away from him, watching him shut his eyes for a few seconds and catch his breath before meeting her gaze. He blushed lightly and smirked at her, then crawled off the bed and headed out of the bedroom, toward the bathroom. He returned a few seconds later and cleaned up the mess he'd made, then returned to the bathroom while Beth grabbed her panties and slipped them back on.

Daryl returned to bed a few moments later, putting on a clean pair of boxers before slipping beneath the covers and cuddling up with Beth. She'd left her shirt on the floor and, right now, it felt right. They were taking advantage of having the apartment to themselves for the night, sleeping in nothing but their underwear while wrapped up in each other's bodies.

"Sure that wasn't too weird for ya?" He asked quietly as they lay in the dark, beneath the blankets, their heartbeats and breathing steady again.

She chuckled softly. "No – it was… well, I guess you never know what ya like till you try it."

He grunted in a sleepy half-chuckle and wrapped his arm around her tighter.

They were silent for a few minutes, and Beth was focusing on drifting off to sleep. Daryl was breathing steadily and she could tell he was about to fall asleep. But then his deep, rumbling voice cut through the silence.

"You sure… you want this?" He asked quietly. "Me an' Mal, I mean…"

She furrowed her brow and opened her eyes, lifting her head just enough to look at him. He was gazing back at her in the dim nightlight glow with sleepy, half-closed eyes.

"What?" She asked, smirking like he was joking. "You serious?"

He glanced away from her eyes momentarily and she saw him retreating inside himself, if only briefly. He mumbled, "I'ono – jus' seems like you wouldn't wanna be with somebody like us… I mean, Mal's a great kid, so I don't wonder about that. But, I'm just some asshole redneck livin' in the city."

Beth frowned and waited for his eyes to drift back over to her. Then she said softly, "That's not true, though. You're… one a the _best_ people I've ever met, I think."

He half-shrugged and blinked lazily. "Still… Not everybody's ready ta play step-parent. Maybe it jus'… hasn't really sunk in with ya yet."

Beth's smirk faded and she studied his face, his glazed expression. She felt a stab of guilt. After all, it should be _her_ feeling unsure that he would want to deal with her life, not the other way around. She couldn't imagine a woman in her right mind who would think Daryl and Mal were somehow "too much." Yet he was so doubtful, and she could see how certain he was that she'd eventually change her mind and want nothing to do with him. It made her chest ache with the heavy need to tell him the truth.

"Daryl," she whispered, gazing at him solemnly. "I know what bein' with you means… And I wouldn't want it _any_ other way. I promise."

He studied her for a moment, but then he seemed to accept her answer and gave a tiny half-smile. He wrapped his arm around her again and pulled her in closer, holding her against him tightly. She rested her head against his chest and breathed in the scent of him and his bed.

And as his heartbeat slowed in his chest and his breathing steadied, all Beth could seem to think about was how _unfair_ it was that she couldn't tell him the _truth_ about everything. How unfair it was that she had to fear for her own freedom in a way that forced her to lie to the people she cared about most. But then again, her life had been nothing but unfair for as long as she could remember. So why would she think this should be any different?

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** I think that was my first time writing a mutual masturbation scene. So I hope it was okay. Thankfully, we'll be back to the real smut soon. Please let me know what you thought, or just that you're reading and enjoying! :)


	50. watch you work the room

_**watch you work the room**_

Beth didn't awake to the sound of the front door. Neither did Daryl. It was Carol's voice calling down the hallway that roused them, and it drifted into Beth's dreams faintly.

"Are you decent? Mal – Mal's coming in!"

Then she was being nudged awake, and she opened her eyes to see Daryl looking down at her, frantically shaking her and whispering, "Babe – c'mon, get up, where's yer shirt?"

She blinked herself awake quickly, still drowsy, and sat up to feel the cool air on her bare skin. She could hear tiny footsteps running down the hall, and then the knob of the bedroom door was jiggling and being opened. Daryl was scrambling to slip on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers, simultaneously searching the floor for Beth's shirt. She looked around as well, but the door was opening and the closest thing to her hand was one of Daryl's sleeveless shirts lying on the floor. She grabbed it up and threw it over her head, slipping her arms through just as the bedroom door opened and Malachi burst inside.

"Dad, Dad! I got – I grew bigger!" The toddler announced excitedly, spotting his father first before his eyes drifted over to Beth sitting upright in the bed, wearing a shirt that was three sizes too large on her.

Daryl began trying to usher Mal back out into the hallway. "Alright, bud, let's go – "

But then Beth heard Carol's voice getting closer in the hall, footsteps approaching the doorway. "Sorry, didn't mean t'barge in, the shirt you packed him turned out to be too small, and I didn't have – "

Carol stopped mid-sentence when she reached the doorway and saw Beth in Daryl's bed, wearing his shirt while sitting beneath the covers. Beth smiled sheepishly and gave a small wave of greeting. She was still waking up, but she could feel her face turning deep red.

"Oh – wow, I didn't realize," Carol started, cheeks turning a bit pink as she quickly looked back to Daryl.

"Yeah, uh – let's go in the hall, I'll grab a new shirt," Daryl quickly suggested, grabbing Mal by the shoulders and gently turning him around, guiding the toddler out the bedroom door and into the hall as Carol nodded and led the way out. She glanced back at Beth briefly as she walked through the doorway and out of sight.

Beth could hear Mal loudly asking, "Dad, did um – did you let Rosie sleep in yer bed last night?"

Daryl shut the door and rushed over to Mal's dresser, pulling open a drawer and digging through to yank out a couple of tiny shirts. Beth watched him, frowning and gripping the blankets around her.

She began quietly, "I'm sorry, I didn't even hear – "

But he cut her off, shutting the dresser drawer and turning around to look at her. "Nothin' ta be sorry for. Don't worry 'bout it, I'll take care of it."

She pursed her lips and nodded, then watched him leave the bedroom again, shirts in hand. She glanced at the clock to see that it read 6:07. He shut the door behind him and she could hear muffled voices in the hall, Mal's included. But she couldn't hear her name being mentioned, and neither Carol or Daryl sounded angry.

For a few moments, at least. Then Daryl's voice grew loud enough that Beth could hear what he was saying without straining to listen.

"…'an you were the one sayin' _I_ was bein' paranoid when she first moved in, so what're _you_ doin' exactly?" His low voice rumbled, restrained anger clear in his tone, rising with every word. "Ya think I trust her too much? Think I should jus' cut 'er off 'cause – _what_? 'Cause _you_ think it might cause a little rift in the routine?! Make up yer mind, d'you want me ta be happy or not?"

Carol hissed back, voice rising involuntarily, "You _know_ that's not what I'm worried about – this is strictly about Mal. Are you ready to answer those questions, Daryl? Of course I want you t'be happy, I just – I don't wanna see you going and…"

Beth laid back down, pulling the covers over herself and shutting her eyes tightly as the voices lowered again, then drifted down the hallway and out of earshot. Her stomach turned and she tried to push the words out of her head. She knew Carol was right for being worried, but in her own selfish way, Beth wished that she and Daryl could've had just one really good night to themselves, without the fear of repercussions or worrying about what others might think. But she also had to remind herself that Mal was part of the situation, and she knew that she and Daryl would have to sit down and try to explain things to him sooner rather than later. They'd been pushing their luck with sleeping arrangements already.

It was at least five minutes later when Daryl returned, and she was startled out of her half-sleeping state to the sound of the bedroom door opening again. He quickly joined her beneath the blankets, slipping back into his still-warm spot and wrapping an arm around her. She scooted in close and rested her head against him, closing her eyes again. But she was waiting for him to speak, maybe to tell her that they really shouldn't be sleeping together like this. She'd understand, especially after Mal's reaction. And she was already worrying about what Carol thought, or what she might've said.

But he didn't say anything. He just hummed contentedly and pulled her closer, held her a little tighter. She closed her eyes and relaxed into him.

"You gotta get up soon, huh?" She asked softly, catching herself right before drifting back to sleep.

He nodded against her. "Gotta leave in about an hour. I can lay here a li'l longer…"

"Or I could make some breakfast," she suggested. "We could have one more quiet meal together."

He grunted, then slowly lifted his head. "I am kinda hungry."

She smirked and sat up, pushing the blankets aside and throwing her legs over the side of the bed as she stretched her arms out. Then she felt his arm wrapping around her waist from behind, and his weight was leaning against her back as he pressed a soft kiss to the back of her neck.

"Ya sure make that shirt look good," Daryl growled into her ear.

Beth giggled and turned around to cup his cheek, pulling his face in to meet hers for a long kiss.

* * *

" _Bethy, I'm sorry, but we just can't allow it right now," Hershel said, his voice soft and apologetic as he gazed down at his youngest daughter._

 _Beth was thirteen years old and sick of being an outcast at school. She was the nerdy girl, the overachiever, the goody two-shoes church girl who didn't do anything except get straight A's, do school activities, and go home to her farm. It didn't help that she was still new to the private school environment, and she couldn't help but miss her old classmates in public school. She'd finally made a friend, though – another girl who was a bit of an outcast – and together, they'd met two other girls that seemed to be nice. The four girls wanted to have a sleepover together, and Beth had suggested they do it in her big farmhouse. There was so much fun stuff they could do around the farm, after all. From the horses to the chickens to the big, open fields. Not to mention all the opportunities for epic games of Hide 'N Seek in the huge, multi-story farmhouse. She wanted nothing more than the chance to impress her new friends, to know what it was like to have a group of friends to call her own, just like everyone else in school, just like all the teenage girls in the movies she always watched._

" _Beth, we've had this discussion before, and we told you that you'll just have to wait," Annette said, standing beside Hershel and gazing at her daughter with a similar apologetic expression. "You can go to one of their houses for a few hours, but overnight is out of the question."_

" _But,_ _ **Momma-a-a**_ _!" Beth whined, stamping her foot angrily. She gave her parents the most pitiful, 'this isn't fair in any conceivable way' expression that she could muster. "Everybody else gets ta have sleepovers, an' there's so much fun stuff we could do here! I wanna show 'em the horses, an' – "_

" _ **Everybody**_ _else, huh?" Her momma interrupted, voice hardening. "When was the last time you saw Maggie or Shawn havin' a sleepover? Or staying the night with their friends? You think you're the_ _ **only**_ _one who has t'deal with unfair circumstances?"_

 _Beth's mouth opened, about to argue back, but she stopped. She furrowed her brow and frowned, crossing her arms angrily over her chest. Her bottom lip stuck out as she pouted._

" _Now, you can either take the offers we've given you, or you can just stay home and we'll find some extra chores t'keep you busy," Hershel said firmly, all the apology in his tone gone. "Maybe if we keep you busy enough, you won't have so much time ta wallow in self-pity an' argue with your_ _ **parents**_ _."_

 _Beth's heart dropped with disappointment and she felt tears building up behind her eyes. She tried hard not to cry, though. She was too old for that._

 _She started, her voice pleading, "But, Daddy, I made friends and – "_

" _ **Bethany**_ _!" Her daddy snapped, voice booming around the kitchen. "I_ _ **won't**_ _argue with you for one more_ _ **second**_ _. You are the child and we are the parents, what we say is_ _ **final**_ _!"_

 _Beth knew she should stop while she was ahead, but she'd been feeling so angry lately. She couldn't help but argue back, voice rising, "That's not_ _ **fair**_ _! I didn't_ _ **do**_ _anything wrong, why am I bein'_ _ **punished**_ _?!"_

 _She thought she saw tears forming in her momma's eyes, but then Annette was quickly turning around and leaving the room, heading out to the back porch. Beth's heart thumped inside her chest as she waited for her daddy to respond, his eyes ablaze with anger as he glared down at her. His hands were on his hips and she could see him about to explode, to send her to her bedroom and ground her for the next year. She hadn't even heard Shawn enter the kitchen behind her._

" _Beth!" Her big brother, fifteen years old and awkward as ever after his recent growth spurt, barked at her from where he stood in the doorway behind Beth. She spun around and saw him glaring at her, disbelief and disappointment on his pimply face. "Why are you still arguin'? Just go ta yer room an' shut up already!"_

 _Beth fumed, hands going to her hips as she stared back at him angrily. "This isn't_ _ **fair**_ _, Shawn! I didn't – "_

" _ **Life**_ _isn't fair!" Shawn cut her off, voice rising louder than her own. She still wasn't used to his deep man-voice that had appeared in the last year-and-a-half, and it shook her to her core. He took a step forward and waved his arm angrily as he yelled, "We've_ _ **all**_ _made sacrifices! But yer the only one cryin' an' throwin' a damn_ _ **fit**_ _about it! Stop actin' like a spoiled_ _ **BRAT**_ _!"_

 _All the resilience inside Beth dissipated, and she pressed her lips tightly together, tears threatening to burst from her eyes. Without a glance back at her daddy, she pushed past Shawn and rushed out of the kitchen. There was a tight knot of guilt inside her stomach. Arguing with her parents was one thing, but being told that she was acting like a spoiled brat by her big brother was a whole other. If he said it, she knew it was true. And that trumped every other argument she could've had._

 _Six months later, she could no longer remember why she'd wanted so badly to spend time with those girls she'd thought were her friends. They eventually grew bored of her and stopped calling, inviting her over, or talking to her. So she joined another extracurricular and retreated further into herself, pouring all her adolescent angst into poems and songs when she wasn't keeping her hands and mind busy._

 _And by the time high school rolled around, she realized that her family was right all along – she didn't_ _ **need**_ _anyone else. Just them._

* * *

Beth had expected a visit from Carol while Daryl was at work on Friday. But it never came. She texted back and forth with Clementine for a short time, but other than that, she spent the day as she normally did. She received a text message from Daryl shortly after lunch, and they discussed dinner plans for a bit before he told her he was missing her and that he couldn't wait to sit down for supper with her and Mal again. Her stomach fluttered for an hour after reading his last text.

In the evening, Mal didn't even bring up the incident from that morning. Beth was waiting for it, dreading it. But like the visit from Carol that she'd been sure would come, it never popped up. Daryl cooked one of Mal's favorite meals, and the toddler talked during the entirety of dinner, telling Beth and Daryl all about his Thursday night sleepover with Carol and Sophia. Then he rambled about how excited he was to spend the night in a museum while Beth and Daryl smiled and nodded, asking questions here and there or answering the questions Mal had. After dinner, they cleaned up the kitchen together, then finished the _Harry Potter_ book they'd been reading. Immediately afterwards, Daryl gave in and cracked open the next book in the series to begin reading the first chapter aloud – though a little begging from Mal and Beth certainly helped to convince him.

After a bit of play time, Daryl put Mal to bed with another bedtime story before joining Beth on the couch, where she was watching TV at a low volume. She sipped a mug of hot tea and he brought out a bag of chips from the kitchen, snacking quietly as they sat and enjoyed the silence.

After a few minutes, and once a commercial break started, Daryl spoke up. "Talked ta Dwight today."

Beth turned her head and looked at him, eyebrows raised curiously. "Oh – about the double date?"

He nodded, munching on a chip. "Yeah. Said they're free tomorrow night, if yer feelin' up to it."

She shrugged. "Did you guys figure out what we're gonna do?"

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and he paused, chip in his hand. "Got a buddy that runs a biker bar a few miles away. Might be fun."

She furrowed her brow briefly. "A _biker_ bar?"

He chuckled softly. "Not like a _scary_ one. E'rybody in there's pretty cool, trust me. You'll like it."

She paused, then said, "Well, I still don't have my ID – "

He shrugged. "Don't matter, I know mos' everybody in there... We can do somethin' else, though, if ya really don't wanna go."

She shook her head. _Not like I have any better ideas,_ she thought. _Maybe a biker bar would be a good place, anyway. I'd probably be just another criminal._

"No, that sounds fun," she gave him a small, reassuring smile and took another long sip of her warm tea, the mug cupped between both of her hands.

Daryl studied her for a couple seconds, then seemed satisfied that she really was interested in the idea. He lazily half-smiled. "Alright. I'll text 'im – wanna say uh, eight o'clock? Gives us plenty a time ta rest an' clean up after class."

Beth nodded, and the smile on her lips became more genuine as she watched him reach out and grab his phone from the coffee table. "Yeah, that sounds perfect."

A few hours later, after cuddling close on the couch and watching TV between quiet jokes and laughter, they retreated to Beth's bed. They fell asleep together, with the bedroom door half-open. But when Beth awoke around three in the morning, she found herself alone, nothing but Daryl's scent left behind on the pillows and blankets.

She rolled over and went back to sleep, despite the inner battle that ensued for at least half an hour. Sleep overtook her again, but it was fitful and restless.

This time, she fell into a dark dream. She was back on the farm, standing on the back porch of the farmhouse. It was dark out, and for some reason, there were no lights except the dim porch light above the backdoor. Maggie was there. And there was a sensation of anxiety that seemed to seep into Beth's bones, making her feel like her insides were made of brittle stone.

There were police sirens in the distance. Lots of them. And they were getting louder every second, closer.

Was this the night of the bust? Was daddy inside that door, praying on his knees right now? Where was Glenn?

Maggie was looking over her shoulder, off the porch and toward the dirt road, in the direction that the sirens were coming from. She didn't look scared, though. In fact, she looked emotionless. More stoic than Beth could ever remember seeing her.

She turned her head and looked back at Beth, a wistful glaze in her green eyes. Her voice came out flat and quiet, "They're comin'."

Beth's heart began to race. Suddenly, she felt a cold, heavy weight in her left hand. She looked down and saw that she was gripping the Beretta, holding it at her side. Where had it come from?

She looked back to Maggie and Beth's voice sounded distant and far-off, like it wasn't coming from her own mouth. "I – I killed a cop. They'll _fry_ me… they'll lock you up for _Life_!"

Maggie blinked and arched an eyebrow, staring at Beth intensely. She leaned in closer and spoke softly, so soft that Beth had to strain to hear her. But then the words were cutting through her head like a thousand tiny knives, piercing her eardrums. As if she'd hissed and screamed at the same time.

"Not if you _RUN_."

Beth's eyes popped open and she gasped for breath, unable to shake the sensation that someone's hand had been around her throat while she was asleep. She sat up and grabbed at her chest, breathing in rapidly, mind still racing. But when the calmness of the dark, silent apartment finally settled over her, she relaxed. Her breathing came easier and her lungs didn't feel constricted anymore, and eventually, her heartbeat returned to normal. Maggie's voice was still ringing in her ears – words she'd never actually spoken, yet sounded so real.

Beth shook her head and glanced at the clock to see that it was barely past five in the morning. She grabbed the bottle of water sitting on her nightstand and took a hearty swig, then got out of bed without a second thought towards attempting to go back to sleep. The boys would be awake soon anyway, and they had class in a few hours, so she may as well get up.

She took a trip to the restroom, lingering at the sink a little longer than usual, splashing cool water on her face and pressing her finger down into the scar tissue on her wrist, watching it turn white, then red, then back to white. Then she washed her face and brushed her teeth, running a brush through her hair. When she left the bathroom, the boys' bedroom door was closed and she couldn't hear anything from inside. She tiptoed back to her bedroom and grabbed the bandana, wrapping it around her wrist and covering the scar once more. A weight in her stomach seemed to alleviate just the slightest bit.

As she took her daily antibiotic, she peered into the bottle and saw that there were only a few pills left, which meant a follow-up trip to the clinic soon. She tried to push that out of her mind for the time being and went about dressing herself for self-defense class, leaving her shoes off. She wound up pulling open the drawer of her dresser, reaching inside and opening up the bag that sat in the back corner. After cleaning and wiping down the Beretta, she'd wrapped it carefully in a plastic grocery sack that she'd found under the kitchen sink. She reached beneath the crinkly plastic, fingers brushing the heavy steel and a flash of her nightmare passing through her mind. Then she grabbed what she'd been reaching in for – the photo – and pulled it out.

Beth gazed down at it, etching Maggie's young face into her memory for the millionth time. But all she could see was her adult sister's stoic face, standing on the porch, sirens wailing behind her. She looked across Shawn's goofy face, her father's proud smile, her momma's soft eyes. Her chest ached and she fought back a tear that was threatening to roll down her cheek. With a slight tremble in her hands, she slipped the photo back into its spot beneath the gun and cinched up the bag, then shut the drawer tightly.

She wandered into the kitchen and quietly started brewing a pot of coffee, leaning against the counter and scrolling through news websites on her phone while the smell of coffee began to fill the small apartment. The sun was beginning to rise outside and the birds had already come to life, and the crisp scent of autumn was drifting in the open window on a cool, morning breeze. Beth silently thanked God, as she did most days, for no headlines about her or her family.

She was skimming over news articles, keeping her mind occupied while the last drops of coffee filled the glass pot, when she heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. She noticed that she couldn't hear Malachi's tiny feet.

Daryl appeared in the kitchen doorway and rounded the corner, entering the kitchen and spotting the pot full of coffee behind Beth. She locked the screen of her phone and set it aside, giving him a small smile. He immediately padded over to the cupboard to retrieve two mugs and set them out on the counter.

"Mornin'," Beth greeted.

"Mornin'," he grunted in reply, voice still husky with sleep as he carefully picked up the full pot of coffee and began to pour it. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Jus' reading the news," she replied.

He grunted again. "Careful, that shit'll depress ya. I try ta stay away from it."

She chuckled quietly as he poured coffee into the second mug. "Been up long?"

She shrugged. "An hour or so. Couldn't sleep."

He slid a mug of coffee over to her and she picked it up carefully, carrying it to a nearby countertop to mix in creamer and sugar. Daryl replaced the coffeepot and took a tentative sip of his own cup, breathing out a relieved sigh once it had slid down his throat. Then he looked at her and furrowed his brow.

"Didn't wake ya when I got outta bed las' night, did I?" He asked.

She shook her head. "No – I woke up afterwards. Jus'… sleep better when you're there, I guess."

He smirked and nodded, taking another sip of coffee. He mumbled quietly, "Me, too."

"Where's Mal?" Beth asked, stirring her coffee.

"Bathroom," Daryl replied. "What d'you wanna do for breakfast?"

She raised her eyebrows and stepped forward to lean up on tiptoes and kiss him lightly on the lips, then she put her hands on his arms and softly pushed him toward the hall, mug of coffee still in his hands. "Omelets – go sit down an' watch TV or somethin'. What kind d'you want?"

He snickered as if she were joking, then quickly realized she was serious, finding himself standing in the hall while she began moving about the kitchen to start breakfast.

"Surprise me," he answered, and she glanced back with a brief nod and a sly smile.

A few minutes later, Mal was running into the kitchen to see what "Rosie" was up to. She asked him what kind of omelet he wanted and he requested an M-n-M's-and-gummy worms omelet. Daryl laughed loudly from where he sat on the couch and Beth stifled her own laughter before ushering the toddler off towards the living room to join his dad.

Beth listened to the boys chatting and watching TV as she prepared breakfast, smiling and quietly singing to herself. With every sip of hot coffee that slid down her throat, the nightmare drifted further from her mind. Just as she was portioning out the plates, she heard Daryl enter the kitchen while Mal's voice could still be heard from the living room, singing along to his cartoon.

"Hey – I was just about ta call you guys," she smiled at him as she scooped hash browns onto a plate.

He nodded, coffee mug in hand as he went to the coffee pot and poured himself another cup. "Good timin'."

She watched him move from the corner of her eye, walking over to stand beside her and gather silverware while she finished preparing the plates. She licked her lips and worked silently at first, then quickly decided to take advantage of Mal being occupied in the other room.

"Um, Carol's not – mad, is she?" Beth asked quietly, watching Daryl's face for a reaction.

He glanced over at her as he pulled out three forks and three spoons, furrowing his brow slightly. "What would she have t'be mad about?"

She shrugged. "Yesterday morning… I kinda heard you guys arguing outside the door…"

He scoffed and shook his head. "Nah. She's just worryin' too much, like usual. An' she's still gotta get used ta me havin' somebody around – she can't keep bargin' in like she lives here just 'cause she's got a spare key."

Beth pursed her lips and nodded, carefully placing the empty pans in the sink and running water over them. Then she turned around and said tentatively, "If you wanna – take a break from sleepin' together… for his sake…"

Daryl looked back at her and shook his head, smirking slightly. "Don't worry too much about it. Maybe we sit him down, have a little talk – next week or somethin'. Let's just leave it be fer now. He ain't even brought it up yet."

She nodded and smiled back weakly, feeling a little reassured. Although she wasn't entirely sure she should believe him when he said not to worry about Carol. This definitely wasn't the ideal way for her to find out that Beth and Daryl were already sleeping together.

Mal was full of questions and stories during breakfast, but he finished every bite of the food that Beth had prepared for him and then thanked her enthusiastically. After cleaning up the table and the kitchen, Daryl and Mal headed to the bathroom and bedroom to get ready for the day. When they returned, Beth joined them to gather on the floor in a small circle with coloring pages and a large box of crayons, each of them coloring their own picture while they laughed and joked. And before she knew it, it was time to leave for class.

Carol and Sophia joined them on their way out of the apartment, and together, they all left the apartment building as a group and walked to the small gym where they held class every Saturday morning. Beth didn't reach out to take Daryl's hand this time, remaining silent behind her sunglasses as she trailed a few inches behind and to the side of Daryl, while Carol walked on the other side of him and chatted casually. He mostly nodded and _mm-hmm_ ed in response, but he also briefly talked about work and his plans for finding a daycare for Mal. The toddler was walking along the sidewalk in front of Daryl and Carol, holding tightly to Sophia's hand while she walked with him and laughed at his funny little comments. Beth noticed that the preteen was looking happier every week.

Then she felt the familiar rough skin of Daryl's hand brushing against her fingers and she looked over, snapping out of the slight trance she'd been in as she walked and gazed around at the city. Daryl grasped her hand softly, holding only her fingers at first, and she saw him glance at her with a little smirk. She half-smiled back before intertwining her fingers with his and grasping his hand tightly, giving it an affectionate squeeze. She walked closer to him and continued smiling to herself while Carol went on chatting, either not noticing or just choosing to ignore their tiny bit of PDA.

Beth helped Daryl and Mal set out the mats for class once they reached the gym, and not long after, the girls showed up within minutes of each other. Tobin and his daughter showed up, as well, greeting Carol and Sophia warmly. As soon as they were all together, Tara, Rosita, Clem, and Enid cornered Beth by the lockers and gathered around her, curiosity and excitement on their faces.

"So when's the wedding?" Enid teased, a goofy smile on her face.

"More like, when's the baby – I know you guys _had_ to have boned by now," Tara said, a little louder than Beth would've preferred.

She felt her face going red and then Rosita said, "You guys – _relax_. They only _just_ made it official, but – "

"Well, how is he, though? Good?" Clem interrupted, a mischievous smirk on her face. "Is he as quiet in bed as he is the rest of the time?"

Tara laughed loudly and Enid rolled her eyes, while Rosita scoffed and shook her head, punching Clem's shoulder playfully. Clem snickered.

"Now I'm remembering why I didn't wanna tell anybody," Beth joked, a sheepish smile on her too-warm face.

"Oh, c'mon," Rosita said, smiling and leaning in to lower her voice a bit. "I don't care about his dick, unlike these _weirdos_. I just wanna know if he's taken you on an actual date yet – like, is he capable of being romantic? I'm having trouble picturing that side of him."

The other girls laughed lightly and Beth raised her eyebrows, pleasantly surprised by the question. She glanced around at the others, then replied, "Yeah! We went out on Thursday night. Carol took Mal for the night an' Daryl took me on the most _amazing_ date – like, mind-blowing. He – yeah, he has a romantic side."

Rosita grinned in excitement while Tara's and Clem's jaws dropped, and Enid raised her eyebrows, intrigued. Then Tara grinned.

"I _knew_ he had it in him," she said happily.

Rosita chuckled and asked, "'Amazing,' really? Daryl – _romantic_?!"

Clem added, "Yeah – I'm still having a hard time picturing it… What'd you guys do, exactly?"

Beth blushed again and smiled sheepishly. "We went to this rooftop club that his friend owns and we had this amazing dinner, just the two of us, with the most _beautiful_ view of the city. An' then we hung out at the bar and they had a dancefloor with a live band playing, right there on the rooftop. We danced together… An' one of 'em was a _slow_ song."

Tara laughed but Rosita was listening with almost-dewy eyes. "Oh my _ga-awd_ , that's adorable!"

"Holy shit, you got him to dance in public?" Clem asked, half-smiling with an expression that said she was seriously impressed.

Beth nodded, glancing across the gym briefly to see Daryl standing at the other side, talking to Carol and Tobin. Then she said, "I mean, barely, but yeah. And he even had a bunch of my favorite flowers around our table. It was literally the best date I've _ever_ been on."

Rosita " _aww_ "ed even louder at this, and Tara rolled her eyes at her, chuckling.

The girls continued laughing and joking, but didn't tease Beth. Instead, they seemed genuinely happy for her, offering encouraging words and playful jokes that made Beth's heart feel a little bit lighter. When it came time for them to take their places and begin class, Tara walked closely to Beth and leaned in to speak quietly to her.

"I never really said anything," she said. "But Denise has been saying, since the first day she saw you and Daryl together, that he's got it bad for you. I still haven't told her she was right. Now I kinda _have_ to."

Beth laughed, a small wave of elation coursing through her. Had he really been that obvious? What else was she blind to when it came to Daryl? She couldn't help but wonder.

"D'you think – it's good?" Beth asked quietly, watching Tara's face for a reaction. "Me an' Daryl being together… d'you an' Denise think, like… maybe that it's _bad_ for Malachi? Or something…"

Tara furrowed her brow and briefly glanced over her shoulder, as if to check that no one was eavesdropping, then shook her head. "Of course not. I mean, why would it be? But why? Does _he_ think it might be bad for Mal?"

Beth shook her head and quickly feigned a smile, chuckling like it had been nonsense. "No – nevermind. I was just… overthinking."

They all sat near each other for class, like they usually did, and Clem and Beth sat right next to each other, watching and listening to Daryl and Carol intently. When it came time to review last week's lesson, they partnered up.

"So you're feeling better now, right?" Clem asked as she traded positions with Beth, both of them panting slightly from the exertion of their movements.

"Yeah, almost like normal again," Beth replied.

 _Whatever that means these days,_ she thought.

"That's good," Clem said, holding up her hands and blocking a fake punch before grabbing Beth's wrist and twisting it around. "Ya know, I kinda thought it was weird at first, but – I dunno. It makes sense, really."

Beth furrowed her brow, pausing and putting her hands on her hips to take in a deep breath and mop at the sweat forming on her forehead. "What're you talkin' about?"

Clem shrugged, wiping away sweat from her own forehead. "You an' Daryl. Like, you guys are a lot different, but – somehow, you kinda seem like you're the same, too. If that makes any sense."

Beth chuckled and positioned her feet to practice another move. "Yeah, I guess so. 'Spose that's why we like each other so much."

She brushed off Clem's words at first, but the longer they settled in her head, the more she understood. And in a weird way, it made her happy that someone else had noticed what she'd been newly opening her eyes to. It was nice to know she wasn't imagining things when she felt an indescribable connection to Daryl.

Although she couldn't help but wonder if it would still be there once the _whole_ truth came out.

"We're supposed ta be goin' to a biker bar tonight," she said casually, waiting until she and Clem had practiced another move and were trading positions again. "He wants me ta meet his work friend – who's also like, his oldest friend from Georgia."

Clem raised her eyebrows. " _Biker_ bar?"

Beth smirked and said, "That's what I said, too. But I guess he knows the guy that runs it an' – well, I'm not that worried if I'm with Daryl."

Clem nodded and looked off thoughtfully for a second, then the girls practiced their moves again until they were both panting for breath.

Wiping at her forehead, Clem asked, "Is that like, the closest you'll get to meeting his parents?"

Beth chuckled softly. "Probably."

The tawny-skinned girl smirked, then said, "Really, though, it kinda sounds like things are getting serious. _Fast_."

Beth gazed down at her socks for a second, then looked up to see Daryl walking towards them, weaving between other pairs of people with his eyes locked on Beth. He was still about twenty feet away, and she looked at Clem to make another quick comment right before he approached them.

"I dunno if there's really been a moment when things _weren't_ serious," she muttered quietly, to which Clem merely arched an eyebrow before turning her attention to Daryl.

Despite the coy looks from the other girls, Daryl didn't avoid Beth during his rounds in the class. Though he did seem to spend just a little more time with his body close to hers, his hands on her hips, when he corrected her positioning. Her face was way too warm by the time he'd walked away, and she could see Tara wiggling her eyebrows playfully from the corner of her eye.

When class ended, the girls took their time heading to the lockers, lingering around each other and chatting animatedly. They let most of the rest of the class finish up at the lockers before gathering in the area, and then they were quickly making plans for lunch while Tara complained that her stomach was growling. Beth slipped her shoes on and rested her sunglasses atop her head, hanging back and listening, occasionally laughing at the girls' jokes. Before they could turn to her and invite her along for lunch, Daryl approached, holding Mal's small hand alongside him.

"Hey – congrats, dude," Tara grinned, slapping Daryl on the back cheerfully.

Daryl grunted and half-smiled, giving the girls a quizzical look as they stopped their conversations and grinned at him. "Fer what?"

Clem gestured to Beth. "You guys being official!"

Beth rolled her eyes, blushing. Daryl just shook his head and chuckled awkwardly. "Oh – thanks. I think."

"Dad, I'm hungry," Mal piped up, tugging on his father's hand.

Daryl looked down at his son and nodded, then looked back to the other girls. "We'd better head out, get the boy some lunch."

"Oh!" Enid said. "Why don't you come with us? We're gonna go eat right now."

Daryl looked to Beth and she gave him a quizzical expression, silently exchanging words. She made it clear that it was up to him and she didn't have a preference either way. She was a bit surprised to see him considering the option.

"Where y'all goin'?" He asked, shrugging and looking to Rosita.

"We usually go to a bar a couple blocks down, but we can hit the McDonald's down the street," she replied, glancing around at the other girls for affirmation.

"I could go for some nuggets," Tara said.

The others agreed and Daryl nodded, then looked down at Mal. "How's that sound, bud? Mickey D's?"

Mal's face lit up and he nodded eagerly, swinging his dad's hand. "Yeah! Fwench fwies!"

The group finished saying goodbye to Carol, Tobin, and the preteen girls, then headed out of the small gym together and walked down the block to the McDonald's on the corner. Daryl didn't hesitate to hold Mal's hand on one side and Beth's on the other, and though she was sure the others noticed, she was glad they weren't making jokes or comments. And Mal was way too excited about going to McDonald's to care about pretty much anything else that was going on around him.

As they entered the small fast food establishment, the smell of grease and French fries filled Beth's nostrils. There weren't many other people inside, but it was filling up quickly for lunch, and there were a few tables full of families. She and Daryl let go of each other's hands as they got in line with the other girls, and a few minutes later, they had all sat down to a large, half-circle booth together, crowding into the seat and giggling amongst themselves with order numbers and fresh sodas in their hands. Daryl held Mal on his lap to save space on the seat while Beth squashed in close beside him, Rosita on his other side. Next to Rosita was Tara, then Enid and Clem. They talked and joked while waiting for their food, and when their numbers were called, they each had to squeeze out of the booth and back in, trays quickly cluttering up the surface of the table.

The conversation didn't drift to Beth and Daryl's relationship this time – though she wasn't worried about it anymore. For the duration of the lunch, she felt something that seemed like what a normal person should feel. And when she smiled at the friends around her, it was genuine. Mal soaked up all the attention from the other ladies, and he was constantly making them laugh. Daryl even contributed freely to the conversation, seeming more open and relaxed than Beth had seen him since the party at Denise and Tara's. Occasionally, he'd reach over and squeeze her knee under the table, and they'd exchange soft smiles.

Beth was leaning over the last couple bites of her cheeseburger, chuckling lightly with the other girls at a story that Enid had just told about her boyfriend. She glanced over and watched Mal stuffing the last chicken nugget into his mouth, cheeks puffing out like a hamster. As she giggled, Rosita spoke up, talking casually as she changed the subject.

"It's funny, I kept trying to figure out what your type was," she commented, looking at Daryl. "Like, all this time, I kept thinking that you might be into like, some badass biker chick or something. Ya know, like a girl who has full tattoo sleeves and _exclusively_ wears leather."

Daryl chuckled and Beth could see him blushing faintly. She smirked, keeping her mouth closed as she felt her own cheeks warming up while Tara and Rosita shared a laugh.

"Yeah," Tara said teasingly. "Well, I was about to start setting you up with some of my guy friends that work down at the fire station."

The girls laughed together while Daryl just shook his head and looked down at the box of fries in his hand, pretending to be busy with shaking out the last few bits. Beth tried to stifle her giggle. He side-eyed her and she smirked at him, batting her eyelashes playfully.

"I don't think you really _have_ a type, though," Rosita concluded, still looking at Daryl.

"Well – what type am _I_?" Beth commented quietly, and Enid giggled.

Rosita shrugged and Clem said, "Definitely not the type of chick we would've thought _he'd_ fall for."

Beth wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but she tried to interpret it lightly.

"Ain't no such thing as ' _types_ ,'" Daryl said plainly. "People are just people, always will be. An' they're not always the same behind closed doors – that's the real kicker."

The other girls mumbled a collective agreement, smiles fading momentarily. Beth's heart skipped and she tried to ignore it. Then Mal shook his empty nuggets box and announced, "Okay, Dad, I'm ready for my sundae."

"I don't remember sayin' anything about sundaes…?" Daryl replied.

"Um, it's McDonald's, Dad," Mal said, sighing dramatically.

The group seated around the booth laughed, and a few minutes later, they were all ordering ice cream cones, sundaes, and apple pies.

* * *

Beth, Daryl, and Mal walked home from McDonald's together after parting ways with the girls. And when Mal looked over curiously and asked "Rosie" and his dad why they were holding hands, Daryl simply explained that it was no different than why anybody else held hands – "so they wouldn't get lost." This seemed to satisfy the toddler and he quickly forgot about it, moving on to jabbering excitedly about the upcoming museum stay. Beth exchanged a look with Daryl, who appeared extremely content.

They got back to the apartment and Daryl put Mal down for his nap while Beth changed and took a quick shower to rinse off from class. Daryl followed suit when she was done, and when he emerged from the bathroom wearing baggy sweatpants and a wifebeater, he joined Beth in her bedroom. The door to his room at the end of the hall was ajar while Mal napped inside.

She was rifling through her clothes when Daryl walked in, trying to decide on an outfit for the night. He plopped down on the bed and watched her quietly, and she finally looked over at him, holding out two different shirts in each hand.

"What should I wear tonight?" She asked.

He shrugged, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back against the pillows. "Whatever ya feel comfortable in."

Beth rolled her eyes and went back to sorting through her clothes. "You're not much help."

" _I_ think you could make a trash bag look good, so ya prob'ly don't want _my_ opinion," he rumbled.

She giggled and shot him a flirty look, pulling out every piece of black clothing she owned – which was about half her current wardrobe. Way more than she'd ever owned before, that was for sure.

"Well, it's a biker bar, so I'm definitely gonna wear my boots," she mumbled thoughtfully, carrying her armful of clothing to the bed and laying them out to gaze at and compare. Daryl watched her silently.

"How 'bout this?" She asked, picking up a shirt and pants and holding them up for him to see.

He shrugged indifferently. "I'm gonna be fightin' dudes off no matter what ya wear, so I don't care."

Beth laughed and shook her head, laying the clothes back down on the bed to look at them and try to imagine how they'd appear with the boots. Then she heard him speaking again, a bit louder.

"Why you wear that thing?" He asked.

She looked at him quizzically and saw him gazing pointedly at her left wrist. She held it up, glancing at the bandana wrapped around her wrist. "What – this?"

He nodded. "Jus' ta cover up that scar?"

For reasons she couldn't explain, she felt embarrassed and looked back down at the clothes quickly, trying to shrug off the question. She mumbled almost incoherently, "I'ono."

"Ain't gotta dress like somebody yer not," he said conclusively. "They'll like you no matter what."

She smirked to herself and continued folding up the clothes she'd laid out, trying not to think to herself how she was, technically, _always_ dressing as someone that she wasn't.

By six in the evening, after watching _Night At The Museum_ per Mal's request, Daryl had cooked a light dinner and he, Beth, and Mal had all eaten and cleaned up. Then he gathered up Mal and his overnight bag and shuffled him out of the apartment and across the hall. The toddler was nearly bouncing off the walls with excitement for his museum trip, and Beth could still hear him talking loudly from where she sat on the couch until Carol was closing her front door.

Daryl returned and immediately kissed Beth deeply, both of them taking advantage of their newfound privacy. They kissed for a long time, though it only felt like a few, too-short moments. And when they finally pulled apart, he rushed off down the hall to get ready.

Beth sat on the couch and skimmed through news headlines on her phone while she waited. She'd decided on wearing a pair of tight, black leggings with her black boots, and a blood red blouse that was form-fitting and low-cut, exposing more of her cleavage than she'd probably ever exposed so casually, even more than the top she'd borrowed from Clem recently. It was another impulse buy from her trip to the thrift store and she hadn't even thought she'd ever have a reason to wear it. But the hem was layered and accentuated the curve of her hips, and she told herself she could keep her jacket on over it, if nothing else. She'd even done her makeup, similar to what she'd done for her and Daryl's first date.

When he finally emerged from the hall, he was wearing a much more comfortable outfit than Thursday night, though he still looked just as good. He combed his still-damp hair and trimmed up his facial hair, that delicious smelling aftershave wafting through the apartment. He wore a pair of shiny, black leather boots, a nice pair of black jeans, and a button-up, black-and-white plaid shirt. When he saw Beth with the red blouse on and her makeup finished, he gaped for a second longer than normal, and then he made a deep growl in his throat – which Beth took as a compliment. He strode over to the coatrack and slipped on his winged vest, completing the outfit.

 _Talk about making anything look good,_ Beth thought to herself, biting her lip as she gazed at him.

"Alright – you ready?" He asked, shaking a strand of hair away from his eyes and grabbing up his motorcycle helmet, turning and looking at her expectantly.

She nodded eagerly and a few moments later, they were leaving the apartment again, Daryl's motorcycle helmet in his hands while Beth carried the extra from his bedroom. Beth brought nothing more with her than some cash that she tucked into her boot and her phone, which was stuffed into her jacket pocket. She felt herself growing more and more nervous as they descended the stairs and stepped out into the crisp, evening air.

It was another beautiful, temperate night out, and the city was just beginning to light up and come alive. There was still enough summer weather hanging around that Beth didn't really need her jacket, but she knew she'd want it once they were riding on the bike. Daryl, however, seemed more comfortable than ever in his thin long sleeves and leather vest. After pulling off the tarp, folding it up, and shoving it away in its compartment, he shook his shaggy hair back and slipped on his helmet, cinching the strap. Then he turned and helped Beth strap her own helmet on. When he was satisfied that it was securely fitted to her head, they climbed onto the motorcycle and got situated while he put the key in the ignition and turned it on. The engine roared to life and the bike rumbled beneath them, the vibrations growing stronger and stronger. Daryl revved it and a chill of excitement coursed through Beth's body, sprouting from between her legs and spreading outward.

"Ain't done this since the first day we met," he said, talking loud enough that she could hear him over the bike. He glanced over his shoulder at her and she could see him smirking beneath his helmet. Her stomach fluttered gleefully.

She wrapped her arms around his middle, clasping her fingers together over his abdomen and leaning into his back. "Feels like yesterday!"

She felt him chuckling rather than hearing it, and he leaned forward before revving the engine again and pulling out into a tiny gap in traffic. Within seconds, they were speeding down the street, weaving between parked and moving cars alike, passing other motorcycles every now and then. Beth held onto Daryl tightly, looking around at what she could while little spurts of adrenaline burst inside her, her heart jumping into her throat every time Daryl accelerated or passed a car that she didn't think could be passed. But she could see and feel how comfortable he was driving the bike, as if it were an extension of himself, and she felt unquestionably safe sitting behind him. She also enjoyed the cool, evening wind on her skin. And whenever they'd stop at a stoplight, he would reach back and squeeze her thigh affectionately, like a little reminder that he was happy to have her there. It made her smile beneath the helmet every time.

The ride went by quickly, the East Village disappearing behind them for about ten minutes before Daryl was pulling up to a small, dingy bar set between a darkened business labelled, " _24-Hour Videos: All Kinds_ ," and a locked-up storefront with a simple sign that stated, " _Tax/Divorce/Bankruptcy_ ," about halfway down the city block. The only sign that it was any kind of bar was the large sign posted next to the door, which was set back a few feet from the sidewalk, between two large windows. The sign read: _Must Be 21+ To Enter_. The building itself was painted black and the windows were covered with posters on the inside. There where white letters painted above the front door in crude font, spelling out: _C BLOCK_. And the only sign that it was a biker bar were the twenty-or-so motorcycles occupying all the available parking spots on the side of the street directly in front of the bar, as well as most of the available parking spots on the opposite side of the street. Luckily, there were still about three spots left empty, and Daryl pulled into one before kicking out his kickstand and silencing the engine.

Standing on the sidewalk and waiting for Daryl to secure their helmets to the bike, Beth gazed up and down the block, then inspected the front of the bar some more. It certainly didn't appear on the outside to be what she'd expected.

"'C Block'?" She asked. "Like… prison?"

"Yup," Daryl replied simply, stepping up beside her and reaching out to grab her hand before he began leading her to the front door.

"Wait – _really_?" She asked, following him somewhat reluctantly. The nervousness had reached its peak now, and she wasn't sure _what_ to expect when they walked through the door.

He paused, his free hand on the door handle as he was about to pull it open for her, and glanced down at her with a smirk. "'S alright, they been outta prison fer years. They're good guys, jus' got mixed up in some dumb shit back in the day. Ain't nothin' ta be scared of, they're all harmless. Trust me."

Beth took a deep breath and smiled weakly, nodding and watching as Daryl pulled open the door and guided her inside before him. For a split-second, as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and swirling clouds of smoke inside the bar, she thought she might be getting dangerously close to willingly following Daryl just about anywhere – she imagined herself following him straight through the fires of Hell. Or maybe she would be the one leading him…

Then the inside of the establishment came into clear view and they stepped forward together, approaching the long bar that sat in the middle of everything. A modern jukebox sat in the far corner, playing old country music throughout the room. Beth saw that there were several people here tonight, some of them louder than others. But it was obvious that every one of them was the owner of one of the bikes parked outside, and if they weren't, they'd ridden here on the back of one. There were a couple groups crowded around a pool table in the corner opposite of the jukebox, a handful of people sitting in every other stool at the bar, drinking and chatting with each other, smoking cigarettes. And the rest were seated in the tables around the room, drinking and laughing and talking happily. Most of the tables were filled up, but there were still a couple left empty.

"Texted Dwight – they'll be here soon," Daryl leaned down briefly to speak a bit lower to Beth, and she nodded. At least now, she could stop searching the room and trying to figure out which one was Dwight.

She hadn't even begun searching for Sherry. She noticed there weren't many women present, but that seemed fairly normal. The place had the feel of a male-dominated space, and all the women looked like they felt more comfortable on the back of a motorcycle than anywhere else. They were intimidating, to say the least. However, the place didn't appear as "rough 'n tumble" as she might've imagined – there were no fights breaking out, and no one was yelling angrily or doing drugs out in the open. Then again, she remembered, the night was still young.

"Daryl Dixon, is that _you_?!" A skinny, older white man standing behind the bar cried out happily as soon as he turned around and spotted Daryl approaching. "You sum'bitch, where ya been?!"

Daryl chuckled and reached across the bar to shake the other man's outstretched hand happily. "Hey, Axel, how ya been? Brought somebody I wanted y'all ta meet."

He gestured to Beth standing beside him and she smiled sheepishly, lifting her hand in a small wave of greeting. "Nice t'meet you."

Axel was probably close to fifty years old, with golden blond hair that stopped just below his ears and a goatee with a moderate handlebar moustache. He had a southern accent and Beth wondered if he was yet another Georgia native, and if so, how did Daryl find them all in such a big city? There was a tattoo of a symbol that Beth had never seen before on the right side of his neck. And when he smiled, it reached his warm, blue eyes. He was probably a foot shorter than Daryl and had to look up at him when they talked.

"This is my girl, Rosie," Daryl explained, and Beth's stomach fluttered when he called her "my girl." She was pretty sure she'd never get tired of hearing it.

Axel smiled at Beth and reached his hand out across the bar enthusiastically. Beth shook it and he withdrew his arm, nodding at her. "Nice t'meet you, too, Rosie. I'm Axel, I own this li'l shithole. What can I get ya ta drink?" His gaze drifted from Beth back to Daryl as he continued smiling.

"The usual fer me," Daryl replied, looking over at Beth expectantly. "What d'you want?"

She shrugged. "Um – I'll jus' have a beer. Whatever's good. Thanks."

Axel nodded and stepped back to grab a couple of glasses from where they sat nearby.

"Where's Oscar an' Tiny?" Daryl asked, pulling out a barstool and gesturing for Beth to sit down. She did, and he pulled out the stool next to her and sat down, resting his elbows on the bar top while he watched Axel pour their drinks.

"Bringin' in a delivery out back," Axel replied, setting a small glass of whiskey in front of Daryl before moving to pour a tall glass of beer from the tap. "Should be back any minute – oh, they'll be glad ta see you again. Saw Joe an' Len earlier, said they might be in tonight."

Daryl smiled, but it quickly faded and he scoffed. "Hope not – kinda stopped comin' in so often 'cause a them."

"Yeah, we sorta figured that out," Axel said, setting down a tall glass of beer in front of Beth. She watched the head slowly receding at the top of the amber liquid. "They can be a real pair a assholes after a few drinks. Been tryin' ta eighty-six 'em, but – "

"But what? 'S _your_ bar, why can't ya keep 'em gone?" Daryl asked.

Axel shrugged, a slightly pained expression crossing his face as he leaned against the edge of the bar and spoke a little softer, but still loud enough to be heard over the jukebox. " _Eh_ , you know how everybody 'round here feels about the five-oh, man. An' that's about the only thing'll that keep _those_ dickheads gone. Tiny got tired a beatin' up on 'em, they're usually too damn high ta remember the pain anyway."

 _Maybe I'll fit in around here better than I thought,_ Beth thought, sipping her beer tentatively. _At least I don't have to worry about running into any cops._

Daryl growled low in his throat and threw back a swig of whiskey. "Yeah, sounds about right. 'Spose it's just a matter a time 'fore they get themselves locked up fer some stupid shit."

Axel nodded in agreement. "Sorry, Daryl. We been missin' ya around here. Started t'wonder if you'd moved back ta Harlem."

Daryl laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, right... Nah, jus' got a roommate so I could keep my place in the Village. What about you – how's things been? 'Sides the usual assholes."

Axel chuckled. "I can't complain, man. Life is good. How's the kid?"

Beth gazed around the little bar some more while the two men caught up with each other, looking at all the decorations and posters on the walls. She couldn't see a bare inch of the actual wall because it was all completely covered with motorcycle-related decorations and lots of hard rock/metal band posters. There were also tons of polaroid photos thumbtacked all across the walls, but she wasn't close enough to see what they were. Behind Axel was a wall full of photos, and she could see from where she sat that they were mostly celebrities and musicians, standing with Axel in the bar. There were also a couple of black men in several of the photos with Axel and the celebrities, and Beth wondered if they were the men Daryl had been asking about.

Daryl and Axel talked for a few minutes while Beth sat in silence and half-listened to their conversation, taking small sips of her beer and trying not to cringe at the bitter taste. Then, a customer at the end of the bar waved Axel down, and he told Daryl that they'd catch up later before rushing off to help the customer. Daryl sipped his whiskey and looked over at Beth, and she flashed him a weak half-smile.

"See? It ain't what ya thought it'd be, huh," he said, smirking.

She chuckled softly and nodded, then leaned in closer and asked, "What did he do? T'go to prison?"

She could see Daryl suppressing a laugh as he glanced behind her at Axel, then met her eyes again. "Robbed a store. With a water gun."

Beth's eyes widened and she couldn't tell if he was joking or not, so she held back the half-laugh that wanted to burst out. "What – really?"

He smirked again and nodded. "Yeah. Pretty dumb reason ta lose twelve years a yer life, huh?"

 _I know all about dumb reasons to lose your life,_ she thought, pursing her lips and nodding.

"A _water_ gun…?" Beth repeated, narrowing her eyes briefly as she stared at Daryl, expecting him to tell her he was kidding.

But he just nodded. "Ask him yerself, if ya don't believe me."

She chuckled and picked up her beer. "No, thanks." Then she took a long sip, trying to imagine what the water gun could've possibly looked like. Had it even appeared realistic?

"How's that beer?" He asked, hand wrapped around his whiskey glass as he gazed over at her.

She shrugged and feigned a smile. "Pretty good."

He studied her face for a second, then smirked and rumbled, "Liar."

Beth grinned and let out a laugh, then nodded and said, "Yeah, you're right – it's awful. I dunno how anybody can enjoy the taste a this."

Daryl chuckled and glanced down the bar towards Axel. "How 'bout we get ya one a those fruity things?"

She nodded and watched him wave Axel down, waiting patiently while he finished up with another customer. Then she gazed over Daryl's shoulder to see the front door opening and two people entering, and when they stepped through the dark entryway and into the light of the bar, she could see that it was a young blond man and a dark-haired woman. They paused and looked around the bar, searching for someone. Then Beth could see the man's eyes light up with recognition when he spotted the back of Daryl's head and vest.

She nudged Daryl's arm to get his attention. "Is that – "

The man approached just as Daryl turned around in his seat to see who Beth was talking about, clapping a hand down on his shoulder and smiling. "Hey, man!"

Daryl quickly stood from his seat and wrapped an arm around the man's shoulders in a half-hug. "Hey, ya finally made it!" Then he moved to greet the woman with another half-hug. "'Sup, Sherry, good t'see ya."

"You said eight, it's eight – yer just always early," the man chuckled, smiling warmly at Daryl as he glanced at Beth.

She tried not to stare once he got close enough that she could see his scars. Dwight and Sherry both looked to be about the same age as Daryl. Dwight had pale white skin, and it was burned and scarred on most of the left side of his face, spreading down over the corner of his jaw and the entire left side of his neck. He had a blonde goatee and mustache, not much different from Daryl's usual style. He was only a couple of inches taller than Daryl, though much scrawnier. His hairline on the left side was pushed back a bit from the scarring, patchy and wispy, but the rest of his blond hair was thick and shaggy, nearly reaching his shoulders. His right eye was scarred, as well, and he had round, moss green eyes. When he smiled, it was wide and warm and all sparkling, white teeth. He wore a T-shirt beneath a leather vest, and Beth caught a glimpse of his right arm – it was scarred and burnt, too, but the skin somehow looked different. She didn't want to stare, though, so she tried to ignore it and decided to ask Daryl later. Despite the scars, he had several tattoos on both of his arms, and he certainly fit into the crowd that occupied the small bar.

Sherry was a few inches shorter than Dwight, with long, dark brown hair that reached past her shoulders, flowing out in silky waves. She had a skin tone similar to Dwight's, and her eyes were a soft shade of celadon. She was slender, with a dimpled chin, narrow nose, and perfectly sculpted eyebrows, a light layer of makeup applied with precision. Her smile was warm, too, revealing straight, white teeth behind bright red lipstick. She was wearing blue jeans, a blue plaid button-up over a white camisole, and simple, black heels. And a gaze that didn't contain an ounce of judgement.

Daryl stepped aside and gestured to Beth, who stood up and politely reached out a hand, her cheeks warming up. "Dwight, Sherry, this is Rosie."

Sherry reached out and shook Beth's hand first, then Dwight did the same, both of them giving her a polite smile and looking her up and down. For a second, Beth wondered if this would be another Tobin-like experience.

"Nice t'finally meet ya, Rosie," Dwight said.

"Yeah, nice to meet you," Sherry repeated. "I love your top, by the way."

Beth blushed and smiled sheepishly. "Oh – thank you." She let out a silent breath of relief, no signs of recognition on Dwight or Sherry's faces.

Then Dwight shook his head and _tsk_ ed.

"An' here I thought there was a _reason_ you weren't lettin' me see what she looked like," he said teasingly, flashing Daryl a mischievous smile.

Sherry chuckled softly and playfully slapped Dwight on the arm. He laughed and wrapped an arm around her to pull her in close to his side, pecking a kiss on her cheek. She grinned and leaned into him.

Beth glanced over to see Daryl blushing lightly, stroking his chin hair nervously. He met her gaze in the corner of his eye and half-smiled, then looked back to Dwight and said, "Nah, jus' didn't wanna jinx anything. Mind yer eyes while yer wife's around, huh buddy."

The men shared a hearty laugh before they all agreed to find a table and sit down together once Dwight and Sherry ordered drinks. Daryl grabbed the new drink that Axel had set down for Beth and she thanked him as she took it from him. Drinks in hand, they chose a small, square table in the corner, near the pool table. The crowd playing pool had dwindled down to only four or five people. Beth sat down closest to the wall, Daryl on one side and Sherry on the other, while Dwight took the final seat between his wife and Daryl.

She sipped her new drink, finding it a lot more enjoyable than the beer, and looked around at the others. She listened and sat quietly, hands cupped around her glass, while Daryl and Dwight chatted about the self-defense class, Mal, and work. Sherry was doing the same as Beth, taking swigs from her Blue Moon bottle and gazing thoughtfully at Dwight as he talked. Then she turned to Beth and smiled, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table.

"So, how long have you been living here?" Sherry asked.

Daryl and Dwight continued talking while Beth leaned forward on the table, as well, and replied, "'Bout three weeks. You?"

"Twelve years now," Sherry said. "You like it? You're from the South, too, right?"

Beth nodded. "Yeah – an' I like it so far. It's a lot different, but… it's exciting."

Sherry smiled. "Yeah, it's a lot more fast-paced than back home, that's for sure. But you get used to it."

Beth chuckled softly to herself and took a sip of her drink, then said, "I don't think I ever wanna go back."

The other woman smirked in agreement. "That's what we said. Still do."

"Hey – d'you know the Williams'?" Dwight suddenly asked, catching Beth's attention as she realized he'd turned his head to look at her and was speaking to her.

Sherry furrowed her brow quizzically and Beth froze, staring back at Dwight with parted lips, breath caught in her throat.

 _Please don't tell me he knows Patricia and Otis_ , she thought, racking her brain for a way to answer.

She stumbled over her words, "The – Williams'?"

Dwight nodded, but then Daryl nudged his arm and the blond man looked at him. "She's from Alabama," Daryl explained. "Prob'ly don't know anybody back home."

Dwight shrugged and glanced at Beth again, then back to Daryl. "I got some family in Alabama, too."

Beth finally found her voice and interjected, "I get that a lot – I jus' have a familiar face. But no, I don't think I knew any Williams'."

Dwight nodded and took a swig of his beer, seeming satisfied with the answer. Daryl shared a look with Beth that made her exhale the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Pretty common name, ain't it?" Daryl remarked. "Gotta be a thousand Williams' in every state, prob'ly _three_ -thousand fer every Southern state."

Sherry was still gazing at Dwight somewhat quizzically, and she said, "Williams? You're not related to any a them – are you?"

Dwight began, "No, but I – "

But then he was interrupted by a deep, booming voice ringing out across the bar, directed at their little table and quickly getting closer. "Double D – long time, no see, stranger!"

Beth searched for the source of the voice as Daryl, Dwight, and Sherry all turned to look in the direction it had come from. A large black man was crossing the room, heading toward them with a big smile on his face and his eyes set on Daryl. This guy had to have at least a hundred pounds on Tyreese. Following close behind him was a black man who appeared to be about the same size as Daryl, and both men had short haircuts and neatly trimmed beards. They smiled happily at the sight of Daryl, who quickly stood up from his seat and slapped the hands of each man in greeting, pulling them into brief, one-armed hugs.

"Hey, how ya guys been?" He said. "Good t'see ya."

"Hey, Dwight, Sherry," the large man waved to Dwight and Sherry, who smiled and waved back.

"Been a while, man," the smaller black man said to Daryl, still grinning.

Daryl chuckled. "Yeah, I know. Been meanin' ta stop in but I ain't really had the time, with the kid an' all. But I thought I'd bring my girl in, show 'er the best li'l shithole in Manhattan."

The larger man laughed and glanced behind Daryl, at Beth. She smiled sheepishly and raised her hand in a small wave. Daryl turned to gesture towards her.

"This is Rosie," he introduced. Then he spoke to Beth and said, "This is Big Tiny an' Oscar."

Beth raised her eyebrows and stood up, reaching out a hand across the small table as she gazed Big Tiny and Oscar up and down. She didn't have to ask who was who. She smiled politely as the men each took her hand and shook it in greeting. "Nice t'meet you guys."

"Well, what's this, Daryl's tricked ya into followin' him into a bar?" Oscar joked, glancing at Daryl playfully.

Daryl scoffed and Big Tiny chuckled. Then Tiny said, "How long's it really been, D? I ain't seen you with a lady since ya started comin' 'round here. You musta had an eventful year."

Beth glanced away and suppressed a smile.

Daryl fidgeted with his chin hair nervously and half-smiled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while he glanced down at his boots. "Nah, we ain't been together long. But it has been a while since I came around – heard yer still dealin' with Joe an' Len's bullshit."

Tiny's smile faded momentarily and he nodded. Despite his size, his voice was soft and warm, though Beth could imagine how scary he probably sounded when he wanted to. "Yeah, unfortunately. Can't seem ta beat any sense into 'em."

"No reasoning with 'em either," Oscar commented. "They the reason you ain't been comin' ta see us?"

Daryl shook his head. "Been busy with the kid an' work – "

"And now you got some extracurricular activities ta keep ya busy, too," Tiny interjected, a playful smile on his face.

Daryl blushed lightly and chuckled, briefly glancing at Beth from the corner of his eye. She smiled back coyly.

"You guys wanna get in on a game of pool?" Dwight offered, standing up from the small table and gesturing toward the pool table nearby, which had recently been abandoned.

Daryl, Tiny, and Oscar looked at Dwight, then the pool table, then each other. When Daryl's gaze fell on Beth, she smiled eagerly and finished the last sip of her drink. Everyone agreed to a game, and Beth and Sherry stood from the table to move to the pool table, while Daryl went to get quarters from Axel and a new round of drinks – including a beer each for Oscar and Tiny. The group of five discussed how to split into teams, laughing amongst themselves when Daryl approached with a whole tray full of drinks and handed them out.

"What's so funny?" He asked, setting the empty tray on a nearby table and sipping his beer.

"We decided yer on the girls' team," Dwight told him, smiling.

Daryl grunted and shrugged, walking to the other side of the pool table and standing next to Beth. "'S the team I woulda chose anyway. Gonna make fools outta you three."

Dwight, Oscar, and Tiny laughed loudly together.

"Smart man," Sherry remarked, smirking as she picked out pool sticks from the rack full of them that hung on the wall.

Beth and Sherry shared an amused glance at each other as Sherry handed her a pool stick. Then Daryl was setting out the plastic, triangular rack on the green surface of the pool table and racking the balls.

Beth remained mostly quiet as she stood around and sipped her drink, watching everyone take their turns at shooting. Sherry made playful comments about the game here and there, while the guys chatted casually and caught up on their recent lives. Oscar talked about how his oldest daughter recently graduated high school and started her first semester at NYU, and how proud he and his wife were that all their scrimping and saving was paying off. Big Tiny talked about his two mothers and how one of them had Alzheimer's that was progressing rather quickly, which was keeping him constantly busy outside of work. Dwight and Daryl shared a couple of funny stories from work, and then Daryl talked a bit about Mal and how fast he was growing. Oscar assured him it would go by in the blink of an eye, and Beth saw a brief flash of sadness cross Daryl's face. But he quickly chuckled and nodded, agreeing as he took another swig from his beer.

She joined the conversations when she could, answering little questions here and there. She learned that Sherry was a kindergarten teacher and had a sister who lived in Washington, D.C. Beth recited a lie about being "between jobs" and "thinking about college," and vaguely mentioned having a sister "back home," but made sure not to specify younger or older. Mostly, though, she stood back and watched Daryl interacting with the others.

If she'd thought she'd seen a whole new side of him on Thursday night, then tonight was another new side. He seemed comfortable and relaxed, enjoying himself around people whose company he actually liked. Though it was obvious he enjoyed being around Carol and Rosita and Tara and all the others, Beth often got the sense that he was still hiding a small part of himself. But here, it was like he was in his element. Under the dim lighting of the bar, amongst the cigarette smoke and smell of liquor, surrounded by people who shared his passion for feeling the wind in their hair. He didn't have to pretend to be someone he wasn't, or watch his tongue to avoid being too crude or inappropriate. He didn't have to try to impress anyone, or set an example for his son. And despite all his claims that he didn't trust other people, that he was such a lone wolf, so alone in the world, full of such contempt for all other people except a very select few – he was the star of his small group of friends tonight. Beth smiled to herself as she watched the way the men talked to Daryl, how they affectionately patted him on the shoulder, laughed at his jokes, teased him. It made her heart swell with happiness… or maybe that was just the alcohol.

By the end of their game of pool, the 8-ball was the only ball remaining on the table, and Dwight and Daryl wound up facing off against each other. Daryl's turn was first, and when he shot, he missed the corner pocket by less than half an inch. The black 8-ball bumped into the side, tipping close to the edge of the pocket, but stopped and remained motionless.

Daryl let out a groan of disappointment while Dwight laughed triumphantly. Sherry and Beth joined Daryl in his disappointed groans, watching Dwight smugly take his shot – all it took was a light tap to send the ball into its pocket.

Oscar and Big Tiny laughed, and the three men high-fived each other in celebration while Daryl and the girls shook their heads, Daryl playfully flipping Dwight the bird.

Dwight returned it, adding an air kiss. "Right back atcha, handsome," he winked, laughing.

Daryl laughed and shook his head, turning around to grab his beer and take a long swig. Sherry set her pool stick aside for a moment and walked over to join Dwight, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning into him while they talked quietly, smiles on their faces. Oscar and Tiny talked to each other while they walked around to hang up their pool sticks.

Beth turned around to set her pool stick aside and found Daryl standing less than a foot away from her, having approached when she wasn't looking. She stopped and gave him a smile, and he leaned in to talk to her quietly.

"So whatcha think of 'em?" He asked.

She shrugged. "They seem pretty nice so far."

He furrowed his brow briefly and asked, "You havin' fun?"

She smirked and nodded. "Yeah – I really am. Thanks for bringin' me."

He half-smiled in relief and took another sip of beer.

Beth glanced over her shoulder at Dwight and Sherry, who were still talking to each other. Then she looked back to Daryl and lowered her voice to ask, "Um… what happened? To Dwight? The scars, I mean…"

Oddly, Daryl smirked. Then he said, "Ask 'im."

She furrowed her brow and shook her head. "No way – I don't wanna be rude."

Daryl shrugged and took a sip of beer. "Ain't that big a deal. 'S a good story, you'll wanna hear it."

She was about to ask what he meant, but then Oscar and Big Tiny were approaching Daryl to tell him that they had to get back to work and that they hoped to see him again soon. He one-arm hugged them each before they waved to Beth, telling her that they hoped to see _her_ again, as well.

She grinned and watched as they walked off to disappear behind a door at the back of the bar. Then Dwight suggested they play another game of pool, couple vs. couple. Daryl looked to Beth for her opinion and she flashed him a mischievous smile.

"Gonna help me redeem myself?" He asked, picking up his pool stick from where it sat leaned against the corner of a table.

Beth grabbed her pool stick from nearby and nodded, grinning. "You'll prob'ly be carryin' the team, but I'll do my best."

Daryl chuckled.

"Lemme go pick some music on the jukebox first," Sherry said, pecking Dwight on the cheek before rushing off toward the jukebox across the room.

Dwight and Daryl racked the pool balls and chalked their sticks, joking with each other while Beth listened, amused. She was still marveling at how relaxed Daryl seemed around his friend, and she was beginning to imagine what a camping trip with them would be like. She was feeling far less nervous than she had been at the beginning of the night. Then again, she was also getting the tiniest bit buzzed from the drinks.

"You hear 'bout that big dope bust back home?" Dwight asked casually, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shaking one out into his hand.

Beth's heart leapt into her throat and she froze, ears perked as she stood still, pool stick held in her hand, and watched Dwight and Daryl. For a second, she thought she'd misheard him.

Daryl didn't seem very interested as he pulled out his own pack of smokes and placed one between his lips, lighting it and taking a long drag as Dwight did the same. He leaned back against the pool table and gazed at his friend, shrugging. "Nah, you know I don't keep up on whatever's goin' on down there."

Dwight grunted and exhaled a cloud of smoke, leaning over and ashing his cigarette into an ashtray that sat on a nearby table. "Yeah, me either. My mom was tellin' me 'bout it on the phone last night, though. 'Member that sheriff's deputy that used ta harass you an' yer brother? What was his name – Rick?"

Beth's stomach was in a big, tight knot at this point. If Daryl had been looking at her, he probably would've noticed how pale her face had become. She stood frozen, listening with pursed lips, one finger nervously scratching at the wooden pool stick grasped in her hands.

Daryl grunted and took another long drag of his cigarette, then spoke as he exhaled the smoke, "Grimes. Yeah – I 'member him. Pompous asshole."

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ she thought. Cold sweat was forming on the back of her neck. A tiny part of her was screaming at the back of her head, " _Run!_ " But she silenced it quickly. _That's not an option._

Dwight chuckled lightly and ashed his cigarette again, then said, "Well, I guess he's some kinda _undercover_ _detective_ now. Went inta some big operation outside a Senoia, got himself bashed over the head. Other dude he went in with got shot an' died, so I guess Grimes got lucky. Mom said he's been in a coma fer damn near a month now, though."

Daryl let out a low whistle, but he only appeared half-interested in the news. It was like talking about the weather, or an old friend from high school that you never really liked and haven't spoken to in decades. Beth wondered, momentarily, if Daryl had ever been friends with Det. Grimes at any point.

 _How did I let myself get so wrapped up in someone that I_ _ **knew**_ _was from Atlanta?_ She wondered silently. But then she immediately scolded herself for thinking that way.

"That sucks," Daryl rumbled passively. "Ya hear who all got busted?"

Dwight shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette. "Nobody I ever heard of. Why – you think Merle mighta got himself caught up in all that?"

" _Meh_ ," Daryl ashed his cigarette, his tone indifferent. "I'ono. If he ain't already locked up."

 _Merle?_ Beth thought, assuming Dwight was referencing Daryl's brother back in Georgia. _Why does that name sound familiar?_ _Merle Dixon… I can't even place a face to it._

Dwight half-chuckled. "Yeah, that's prob'ly more likely."

The cold sweat on Beth's neck was slowly receding and she was beginning to relax just the slightest bit. It didn't seem that Daryl or Dwight were much interested in the news from back home, and knowing that Dwight didn't even know her family's name was certainly reassuring. She just had to pray that it didn't get brought up again, and that Dwight's mom didn't happen to mention the girl who had shot Det. Walsh and fled the state.

To Beth's relief, Sherry rejoined them before Dwight or Daryl could talk any more about what was going on "back home." The music playing around them slowly changed to an old Johnny Cash song, and Sherry kissed Dwight happily as he put out his cigarette. Daryl put out his own cigarette and walked up to the pool table, lining up his shot at the cue ball and breaking apart the balls that were grouped in a triangular shape.

Beth took a long drink from her glass and watched without really watching, her mind still racing. As she watched the colorful balls bounce around, hitting the edges of the pool table and rolling back, the clattering sound echoing out around them, she thought about Rick Grimes back in Georgia… how he was lying in a hospital bed, sleeping for who knows how long. Cigarette smoke swirled up around her, and she wondered to herself if he was dreaming, or if he was just submerged in darkness. She could only imagine how quiet the inside of a coma must be. Maybe he was numb, peaceful, and undisturbed – finally fully resting for the first time in years.

For the briefest second, she envied him.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Happy 50th Chapter! Thank you to everyone who's read, reviewed, favorited, and followed. Next chapter will be the second half of the double date! Time-wise, it's currently Saturday, September 23rd, 2017. :)  
Also, I always thought Axel, Oscar, and Big Tiny deserved way better than what they got in the show. Dwight and Sherry, too, for that matter. I feel like they were a really sweet couple before the apocalypse, and perfect together. As for Joe and Len... yeah, we'll see them next chapter. No, they don't deserve better. But I sure did appreciate Joe's character, so I'm excited to give him a little part in this. Let me know what you thought of this chapter!  
Last chapter & this chapter's titles come from "The (After) Life of The Party" by Fall Out Boy.


	51. there's not a lot that i feel obliged to

_**there's not a lot that i feel obliged to share or talk about**_

"Why don't you two get a room already?" Dwight remarked, a playful smirk on his face.

Beth giggled, causing the pool stick in her grasp to slip, while Daryl scoffed and raised his head to look across the pool table at Dwight. His hands remained on Beth's arms as he guided her in aiming her shot at the cue ball, and his front was pressed up close against her back.

"Maybe if you'd _shut up_ once in a while, I could teach 'er how ta play right," Daryl said with a half-smile, and Dwight laughed.

"C'mon, babe, don't give him a hard time," Sherry chuckled, her hand on Dwight's arm. "They're doing what you're _supposed_ t'do on a date."

Dwight turned his head to smile at his wife and snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her in close to him while she continued to beam at him, and joked, "Alright, Honey, that don't mean I wanna have t' _watch_ it all night."

Beth looked back at the cue ball at the end of her pool stick, suppressing another giggle and steadying her hands while Daryl went back to helping guide her shot. At this point in the night, his body pressed against her back didn't feel all that strange, nor did it make her blush or give her chills. It just felt comfortable. And right. He was warm, as always. And even though he'd switched to beer, he still smelled like whiskey and cigarettes.

With his help, she made her shot, and the cue ball hit the 6-ball directly into a pocket. She reflexively gasped and stood up straight, turning to look at Daryl with wide eyes. Then she grinned, and he smiled as he watched her reaction, taking a step back and retrieving his pool stick.

"I did it!" She said happily, throwing her arms up in triumph.

Dwight and Sherry clapped and laughed lightly.

"You get ta make another one now, ya know," Daryl smirked, gesturing toward the pool table.

"Oh – yeah, I knew that," Beth said, still smiling as she surveyed the table and decided on her best shot. As she tried to focus, she realized just how buzzed she really was. Which was a little past buzzed.

After attempting, and failing, to make another pocket, she shook her head and stepped back, holding the stick in front of her and watching as Dwight stepped up to take his turn.

"'Least ya made _one_ ," Daryl said, smirking at her.

She nodded and chuckled. "Honestly, that was all I wanted. So, really – _I've_ won tonight."

He laughed and turned back to watch as Dwight sunk a ball into a pocket.

As she stood and watched Dwight lining up his next shot and talking trash to Daryl, Beth realized she needed to make a trip to the bathroom after all the liquid she'd ingested. She glanced around the bar, searching for a restroom sign, but couldn't see anything of the sort. As Dwight celebrated and moved to make yet another shot, she stepped in closer to Daryl and spoke quietly.

"Hey – where's the restroom?" She asked.

He pointed behind him, in the direction of the jukebox. "Want me t'take you?"

She shook her head and squinted in the direction he'd pointed, unsure of where exactly she was walking. "No – I think I'll be fine."

He nodded and watched as she leaned her pool stick against the edge of a nearby table and moved to head toward the restroom, but then Sherry gestured toward her and said, "You going to the bathroom?"

Beth paused and looked at Sherry, nodding. The older woman set down the drink that had been in her hand and told Dwight quietly, "I'm gonna go pee."

Dwight nodded and continued playing pool, still entertained with teasing Daryl. Then Sherry turned to Beth and walked over to join her. "I gotta go, too. I'll show you where it is."

Beth was grateful that Sherry offered to show her where the restroom was because it wound up being at the end of a weird hallway that was easy to miss next to the jukebox. The women's restroom had two stalls and a counter with two sinks, one large mirror hung on the wall over it. The walls and stalls were painted a disgusting olive green, but it was the cleanest public bathroom Beth had seen in New York City thus far.

As she sat on the toilet inside the narrow stall, letting out a deep sigh of relief while relieving her bladder, she could hear Sherry in the stall next to her doing the same. Beth's mind was racing a bit more than usual, wondering what these two really thought of her and asking herself if she should be worried that they'd recognize her somehow. She was just starting to think about how she'd been fooled into believing alcohol was supposed to _ease_ your mind, when Sherry's voice interrupted her thoughts, echoing off the bare walls of the small restroom.

"Are you really twenty-one?"

Beth froze for a moment and second-guessed her ears. Then she answered hesitantly, "Yeah… why?"

She could hear the slightly higher pitch to the older woman's voice, as well as the normally well-concealed Southern drawl making itself more prominent, and knew that Sherry was starting to feel all the beers she'd had. "I dunno – ya just look really young."

Beth bit down on her lower lip and listened, thankful for the walls around her. Unsure of how else to react, she said, "Yeah, I know." Then she thought on Sherry's words for a second longer, thinking of Daryl, and asked, "Like – how young? You think it's… _weird_?"

"No, not like that," Sherry quickly said, and Beth could hear her standing up and clumsily pulling up her pants. "I dunno, it's hard to explain. Maybe it's not really something _physical_ , but – just something about you. Did you grow up kinda sheltered?"

Beth was furrowing her brow and listening intently to Sherry's voice from the other stall as she finished her business and pulled her pants back up. Now she could definitely tell that the alcohol was making Sherry chatty, and she couldn't help but wonder to herself if this woman was like Carol – more observant than she appeared. And should she be worried about what Sherry might pick up on? Or was this one of those conversations that women had in the bathrooms of bars, like she'd seen in movies and read about in books?

"Yeah. Kinda," Beth answered simply, then flushed the toilet, filling the restroom with the loud sound of rushing water. She heard the toilet in the other stall flushing, too. And she quickly realized that she hadn't even had to lie.

She didn't understand why, but that word suddenly appeared in Beth's head again, repeating over and over: _brainwashed_. And then she felt horribly guilty for admitting to being "sheltered." It felt like denying her daddy the credit he deserved for keeping her healthy and safe.

A few seconds later, she was standing at the counter next to Sherry, both women washing their hands in the sinks. Beth took the sink on the right while Sherry had taken the left, and when Beth looked up from her soapy hands, she saw Sherry gazing at her through the mirror.

"So how long's it been?" Sherry asked. "Since you've been _not_ sheltered?"

Beth shrugged and replied, "I'ono. Couple years. It was… a process."

She was answering with a lie that felt closer to the truth than she'd expected.

But Sherry nodded understandingly, glancing down as she rinsed her hands beneath the faucet. "Still is. That's a longer process than people realize. But – I think you're in good company."

Then she flashed Beth a knowing smile through the mirror and Beth felt her own lips tugging upward in a small smirk. She nodded and finished rinsing her hands, then shut off the faucet and grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser in the middle of the countertop.

"You don't really seem like – well, me an' Dwight haven't seen Daryl with somebody since Lu – Mal's mom," Sherry said, shutting off her faucet and grabbing paper towels to dry her hands. "And, honestly, we were really thinking he wouldn't find anyone, or even give anybody a real chance. She was like, a one-off kinda thing…"

"Lucy," Beth muttered, tossing her wet wad of paper towels into the trash can as Sherry's eyes met hers. "He told me about her. I know."

Sherry didn't appear too surprised. She nodded and continued, "All I'm saying is that I think you're really good for him. He seems happier than we've seen him in a long time. He can get a little dark sometimes, and I can tell that you understand it… and maybe you wouldn't let him get _too_ dark."

Beth smiled weakly and quickly nodded, looking away and pretending to fix the hem of her shirt. "I got my own fair share of dark. But… yeah. I think I understand it."

"Yeah, I heard you still had bruises when you first got here," Sherry said. "Daryl's probably the best person you could've met when it comes to dealing with that kinda shit."

"It was jus' a black eye, but – what d'you mean?" Beth asked, lifting her head again to meet Sherry's gaze.

 _ **What**_ _kinda shit?_ She thought. _How much did Daryl tell them?_

Sherry tossed her wadded up paper towels into the trash and continued gazing into the mirror, fiddling with parts of her hair and wiping away tiny smudges of makeup on her face while she talked. "It's never ' _just_ a black eye…'"

 _Is she putting the pieces together?_ Beth thought. She tried not to let the anxiety show on her face, but her eyes went wide for a brief second, and Sherry glanced in the mirror and noticed.

"Don't worry, he didn't go telling us whatever you guys have talked about," she assured. "He just said that you got away from a bad situation – which is what we _all_ did. And all I meant was that Daryl understands better than most what it's like to be somebody's punching bag, and how it feels t'leave all that and try t'figure out who you are outside of all the… pain. And _shit_."

Beth nodded and glanced down at her wrist, fiddling with the bandana absent-mindedly. She grasped at her chance to veer the conversation in a different direction. "What made you an' Dwight come to the city?"

Sherry raised her eyebrows and Beth quickly added, "I mean – what'd you guys leave behind? Was it… bad, too?"

Then Sherry smirked and shrugged, eyelids heavy over her watery eyes as she gazed at Beth through the mirror and over her shoulder. "Not that bad, but… bad enough. We'd been thinkin' about it, and then it was like a sign from God or something."

Beth furrowed her brow quizzically and Sherry quickly said, "Dwight hates when I say that, but it's true. If it weren't for the fire, we'd probably _still_ be living in his grandpa's moldy old house – that's the thing about Dwight and Daryl, they _both_ needed swift kicks to their asses t'convince them to leave Georgia… You can't make either one of 'em do a damned thing they don't _wanna_ do."

Beth couldn't help but smirk, thinking about how true that statement was, and mutter, "That's one a the things I like about him…"

Sherry smiled and turned her head to gaze at Beth directly, celadon eyes sparkling in the fluorescent bathroom lighting. She agreed, "Yeah… Me, too."

The girls shared a laugh and Beth could feel herself getting a little more comfortable with Sherry. Before the older woman could ask any more questions about "Rosie," Beth asked, "Why did you wanna leave Georgia so bad? And why didn't they?"

 _I probably never would've left if I'd had a real choice,_ she thought. _I still miss the smell of home. I miss my room. I miss that guitar I barely got to play._

Sherry shrugged and said plainly, "Bad memories. Bad people. It just wasn't the place for us… It took nearly _dying_ in a fire to convince Dwight of what I'd been sayin' for over a year. And then it took nearly _dying_ from a stab wound to convince Daryl of the same thing, except it was me _and_ Dwight tryin' t'convince him – the entire year before we left _and_ for two years _after_ we moved."

Beth raised her eyebrows and stared at Sherry with intrigue as she listened, imagining a younger Daryl and Dwight, bull-headed as all get out and naïve in their own ways.

Sherry sighed and shook her head, thinking back on the memory with a hint of exasperation. But then she smiled and continued, words occasionally slurring, "I thank God all the time that they're both here, though, an' away from all the shit back home… I always thought they were good for each other – they kinda keep each other in line in a way that me, or any other woman, never could... I dunno, I think they both always thought they were just… some stupid, redneck assholes, destined t'live the same menial lives as their grandpas and dads and brothers. But I saw something in Dwight when we met in high school, and then I saw it in Daryl, too, and I knew they _both_ could do better than that _shithole_ we grew up in… And they _did_. They overcame all the bad influences and the shitty hands they got dealt, and they've helped remind each other of that, and keep each other in line. They're good men. Good people. A little rough around the edges, sure, but…"

Beth smiled weakly to herself as she listened, and when Sherry's voice trailed off, Beth said softly, "Nothin' that can't be fixed."

She continued smiling but then she saw Sherry's face grow more solemn. Beth's smile quickly faded and Sherry said, in a firm tone, "They're not _broken_. They're good men – not underneath a shell, or deep down, just all the way through."

Beth swallowed hard and nodded, "I didn't mean – "

Sherry shook her head and smiled faintly, tone immediately softening. "Sorry – I don't mean t'be a bitch. I just… you're young. Sometimes, girls your age think that they need to _fix_ guys like that. But that's not true. And it's _especially_ not true for Daryl."

Beth nodded and kept her eyes locked on the taller woman's, fingers fidgeting with the bandana around her wrist once again. She knew if it weren't for the booze in her system, she'd probably be trembling in her boots right now. But she maintained her composure and didn't waiver despite Sherry's rather intimidating presence. Her voice came out hesitant as she said, "I know that. I don't wanna – I don't think he needs t'be _fixed_. I didn't mean t'say… that. I – well, Carol thinks he still has a lotta, um… _demons_. To deal with. But I know he doesn't need _me_ for any a that."

To Beth's surprise, Sherry's lips turned up in a small smile. She seemed to be studying Beth, perhaps in a new light. Or maybe her vision was just getting blurry and she was having trouble focusing. At this point, Beth thought it was anybody's guess.

But then Sherry said, "That's the thing about people like Daryl, or just… _most_ people. They don't need t'be fixed or saved, they don't need t'be told what they should or shouldn't do, or that they should change, or whatever… they just need t'be _heard_. They need somebody to see them – see _everything_ , exactly as it is, and just… be there. Witness it. Stay with it. Stay _despite_ it… The soul just needs to be companioned for what it already is, not changed into somebody else's idea of what it _should_ be... That's all."

Beth stared back at Sherry thoughtfully, absorbing her words and letting them sink in. They were hitting harder than she'd anticipated.

 _Maybe me and Daryl both need the same thing,_ she thought. _Maybe we can both see it in each other... I'd accept him, no matter what he might tell me. But can I say the same for him? Once my disgusting secrets come out? …Doubtful. And it'd be wrong for me to expect him to accept it. Not after lying for so long._

Then Sherry shrugged and her tone was lighter again, and she gave Beth a crooked smile and said, "Not like we're perfect, but me an' Dwight have made it through some shit together, and we came out stronger for it. But only 'cause we understand each other, and we've shown how much we're willing to sacrifice. We're both pretty messed-up people – but we take care of each other… Things definitely haven't been _perfect_ just 'cause we got out of Georgia. But they've been better. And we don't give up when it gets rough."

Beth chewed on the inside of her cheek and tried to imagine Daryl allowing her to help him, or take care of him the way he'd taken care of her. Sherry turned and glanced in the mirror one more time, quickly fluffing her dark brown hair at the ends before looking at Beth and gesturing toward the door. "C'mon, I'll have Dwight tell you the story of how he saved my life."

Beth let out a small laugh and followed the taller woman to the door and out into the hall that led back to the bar. Then she furrowed her brow, walking closely beside Sherry, and asked, "Wait – like, _literally_ saved it?"

Sherry nodded and flashed Beth a subtle smile, her eyes lit up with excitement. "Yup."

Daryl and Dwight were sitting at the small table near their paused game of pool, empty glasses of beer sitting before them while they smoked cigarettes and shared an ashtray that was set in the middle of the table. They were sipping from bottles of water now, and when Beth and Sherry approached, the guys looked up and greeted them.

"What'd ya do, get lost?" Dwight teased, snuffing out his cigarette butt and standing to kiss Sherry lightly on the lips. She chuckled in response.

Daryl put out his cigarette, as well, and stood to wrap his arm around Beth's shoulders and pull her in close against his side. "You want another drink?" He asked quietly. "Or some water? I'm gonna stop drinkin' so I can get us home."

Beth shrugged and replied, "I think I might have one more."

Daryl nodded and kissed the top of her head lightly before walking off to order another drink from Axel while Sherry and Dwight returned to their spots beside the pool table. Sherry was leaning over the edge, lining up to take her next shot.

"Yer next, Rosie," Dwight called to Beth, who looked over at him and nodded, then walked over to stand at the other side of the pool table and retrieve her stick.

Sherry sunk one ball into a pocket, but the next one bounced off the corner and rolled to a stop near the middle of the green cloth. Dwight _tsk_ ed playfully and she shook her head, standing up straight again and grabbing her half-empty beer from the nearby table to take a sip.

"Dang – well, you made one, that's still better'an I'll do," Beth chuckled, leaning over the table and carefully lining up her shot, taking a little longer than normal to focus on the cue ball at the end of her stick.

Sherry laughed, and as Beth made her shot and they watched the colored ball hit one side, then another, before slowly rolling to a stop at the very edge of a side pocket, the older woman said casually, "Oh, babe – tell Rosie about the fire. She hasn't heard the story yet."

Beth stood up straight again and froze, watching Dwight and Sherry with anticipation. She felt embarrassed and wasn't sure why, but the look of nonchalance on Dwight's face and his quiet chuckle brought her some relief. He took a step toward the pool table, stick still in hand, and gazed down at the array of colored spheres on the green cloth.

Beth muttered quietly, just loud enough that the couple could hear her from across the table, "I didn't wanna be rude – you don't have t'tell me if – "

Dwight shook his head and laughed, waving away her apologies. "Nah, don't worry, ain't that big a deal. Everythin' turned out fine, and my wife gets a kick outta pretending I'm some kinda _superhero_ or somethin'."

Sherry laughed and shrugged, then nodded in agreement as she took another sip of beer.

Dwight smirked over at her flirtatiously, then leaned down and began lining up his shot on the pool table. As two balls rolled around on the surface, Daryl returned with a fresh drink in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, making a beeline to Beth. She carefully took the drink while he set the water down on the table and explained that he'd brought it for when she was finished. She thanked him and he turned to watch Dwight making a follow-up shot.

"Just in time, I was about ta tell the story 'bout the fire," Dwight muttered, tapping the cue ball lightly with his stick and sending a ball slowly rolling to a rest on a difficult part of the table.

"You asked him?" Daryl immediately smirked and looked to Beth curiously.

She shook her head and sipped from her glass. "No – um, I asked Sherry. But she thought he should tell it."

"Oh, lord, here we go," Daryl muttered teasingly, picking up his pool stick and walking to the edge of the table as Dwight stepped back and laughed.

"Like I was sayin'," Dwight began, a playful smile still on his face and in his tone. "Everythin' turned out fine, so I might as well be _proud_ a the story – "

"Yeah," Daryl interrupted. "Not like it made ya any uglier."

The two men shared a hearty laugh while Sherry shook her head, smirking and rolling her eyes in amusement. Beth allowed herself to smile along with them and watched Dwight, wondering how he could seem so light-hearted about something that obviously changed his life so drastically. But then that began to make her wonder if she should pay more attention and take some notes from this man and his wife. Would Maggie think that was smart, though? What if this was part of getting _too_ comfortable? Would Maggie have even liked Dwight and Sherry? Beth took a long drink from the glass held tightly in her hand as she listened to Dwight's voice, beginning his story once the laughter faded away.

"Well, this is all skin grafts," he explained, pulling up the left sleeve of his T-shirt and turning his arm under the light that hung above the pool table. Beth took a step closer and leaned in to look as he pointed to the parts of his arm that looked like different shades of skin, stitched together with parts of his own, covering most of his left arm all the way up to his shoulder. It continued toward his neck, which he pointed to as well, and then his face as he explained, "An' they did some plastic surgery, buncha shit I can't even name anymore. Managed ta salvage a lot more than we thought – I got lucky compared t'most people with such severe burns."

"He nearly died _twice_ on the way to the hospital," Sherry commented, a faint expression crossing her face like the memory still brought her pain.

Dwight smirked toward his wife and lowered his sleeve again, standing casually with his pool stick and continuing his story while Daryl lit up a cigarette and eyeballed the arrangement of balls on the table. "Well, we were livin' in my grandpa's old house at the time. He left it to me when he passed, but I guess it had some bad wiring. I thought I smelled somethin' burnin' fer a couple days – shoulda checked it out."

"Yeah, you blamed it on my cooking," Sherry remarked, a playful half-smile on her face.

Dwight chuckled softly and nodded, "My dumbass ignored _everything_ I knew about electrical fires. Anyway, guess the fire started while we were sleepin', couple hours before I had ta get up for work. Honey usually gets up first t'pack my lunch, but by the time I woke up to her screamin', she was already trapped in the kitchen."

Beth let out an audible gasp, staring intently at Dwight as he recounted the tale.

He spoke matter-of-factly, reciting the story as he'd probably told it dozens of times by now, "Smoke was thick, but I found 'er. Thing that really got me was that I heard her screamin' _way_ before I heard the smoke alarm – it was all so dark and thick that we could barely breathe, couldn't see. Tried ta get to our knees and crawl out, but then I heard something _hissing_. Still couldn't tell you how I knew what it was, but my gut told me I only had enough time ta protect her, so I shoved her down to the floor an' got on top of her – tried t'cover as much of her body as I could. As soon as I did, that hissing sound turned into a full-on explosion… We had a bucket fulla flammable sprays an' shit under the kitchen sink – fire swallowed it right up, set the whole damn thing off. We were just on the other side a the kitchen."

Beth gaped at the older man across the pool table, eyes wide as she listened to his story and imagined the scene in her head. Now that she knew what happened, she was amazed that he looked as good as he did. He had really meant it when he'd said he got lucky – and she could tell what Sherry had meant about him saving her life and being willing to sacrifice… _everything_.

But Dwight and Sherry still appeared nonchalant about the whole thing, exchanging small smiles and glances as he told the story and she threw in little comments here and there. Beth recognized the way Sherry looked at her husband – it was the same way Maggie had always looked at Glenn, and her momma had looked at Hershel. She wondered, briefly, if she ever looked at Daryl like that.

"Couple years an' a couple dozen surgeries later, I was good as new," Dwight concluded with a big smile. " _And_ we got enough insurance money ta pack up an' leave, get ourselves a nice li'l place out here. Honey did a helluva lot for us while I was laid up in the hospital, found us jobs an' convinced my mom not t'get hysterical about me leavin'."

Sherry smiled from where she stood nearby and shrugged. "I was only in the hospital for a few months, but it ended up turning into my second home till they let Dwight out. When I wasn't at work, I was working out all the details so we could move as soon as he was rehabilitated."

Dwight nodded, then grabbed his water and took a long sip. Daryl lined up his shot at the pool table and took it, knocking a ball into a pocket and moving to make his follow-up. The sound of the balls clacking together seemed to punctuate the end of the dramatic story, and Beth shook her head, still imagining the big fire. Daryl stepped back and looked over to Dwight with a playful smirk.

"Shoulda left with y'all back then, 'stead a waitin' fer my own hospital stay," he said, stroking his chin hair as he spoke.

Dwight and Sherry laughed together at this comment, and Sherry said, "Let's just be glad you came at all. Who _knows_ where we'd be if we'd stayed."

Then Dwight's smile faded and he furrowed his brow briefly, looking over at Daryl. "Speakin' a which – you remember the asshole that stabbed you?"

Daryl grunted and replied, "Yeah. Gave 'im a good ass-beatin' 'fore I left town. Why?" He reached over and grabbed his half-burnt cigarette from where it rested in the ashtray and took a long drag.

Dwight didn't smile like Beth expected. Instead, he said grimly, "I heard they found 'im a few weeks ago – by a creek with his throat cut open. Said he'd been dead fer a good week by the time he washed up."

Daryl furrowed his brow and Beth could see him suppressing a more worried expression as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. She wondered what was going on in his head as he grumbled, "Good. Fucker prob'ly pissed off the wrong guy. Bound ta happen sooner or later… When'd ya hear that?"

Dwight shrugged and said, "I'ono, last week. Forgot ta mention it."

Daryl grunted again but didn't say anything else, brow still furrowed in contemplation, worry lines appearing in the corners of his eyes. Then he gestured to the pool table and placed the cigarette between his lips again, mumbling around it, "Whose turn is it? Sherry's?"

Beth tried to ignore the way he was taking more frequent drags of his cigarette and staring silently at the pool table while Sherry and Dwight changed the subject and lightened the conversation, asking Beth a few questions and trying to include her. But she could see Daryl from the corner of her eye, and she could tell by now when he was thinking about something, and if it was bothering him – even in the slightest. And he looked rather lost in his own head right now. But why? She couldn't figure out why it would matter to him that a guy from so far in his past was killed. He'd spoken like he was happy to hear it, or indifferent. But Beth could see past that.

The group of four finished their game with Daryl hitting the 8-ball into a side pocket and happily high-fiving Beth in celebration while Dwight and Sherry groaned aloud. They all playfully ribbed each other and laughed together, then headed back to their little table nearby to sit down. Beth was finishing the last few swigs of her fruity cocktail while Sherry began sipping water along with Dwight and Daryl.

They sat and chatted casually, sharing a few funny memories from back in Georgia. Beth listened and laughed along with them. Then, Daryl pulled his phone from an inside pocket of his vest and looked down at the screen, chuckling quietly. He immediately turned to Beth and held the phone out for her to see.

"Lookit – Carol said Mal's spent an hour _just_ in the bug exhibit," Daryl explained with a half-smile, and Beth looked down at the small phone screen before her to see a picture of Malachi standing in front of a huge wall of butterflies – all of which had been alive at one point and were pinned behind glass with little labels beneath each one. The blond toddler was grinning ear-to-ear as he posed in front of the display. Beth smiled as she looked down at the picture, then back to Daryl.

"He looks like he's havin' a blast," she chuckled softly.

Daryl half-smiled proudly and gazed down at the phone screen again.

"Whatcha got – naked pictures?" Dwight joked when he noticed Daryl staring down at the phone.

Daryl scoffed and looked across the small table to his friend, then held the phone out for him to see. "No, dickweed, it's my kid. He's at an overnight museum thing with Carol."

Dwight looked down and took the phone carefully, holding it closer so he and Sherry could both look. Smiles quickly appeared on both their faces and Sherry let out an, " _Aww_!"

"Damn, he's gettin' bigger every day, huh?" Dwight commented, gazing down at the screen a second longer before handing the phone back over to Daryl.

Daryl still had a small, proud smile on his face, taking the phone and tucking it back into his inside vest pocket. "Yeah, he is. Smarter, too."

Sherry chuckled. " _Scary_ smart. Just wait till you see what kinda questions he comes home from school with."

They all shared a laugh at this, nodding in agreement.

"I can't wait ta teach our kids all kinda shit," Dwight said casually, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up.

Daryl raised his eyebrows, taking a sip of his water, then asked, "An' when's that happenin'?"

Dwight smirked and shared a brief glance with Sherry, then shrugged. "Think it might finally be time. We're both… ready."

"Well, we'll never _really_ be ready," Sherry interjected. "Nobody ever is... But we're as ready as we'll ever be."

Dwight _mm-hmm_ ed at this, nodding and gazing over at his wife with subtle adoration as he took a drag of his cigarette.

Daryl raised his eyebrows in curiosity and asked, "Oh, yeah? So yer tryin' now?"

Dwight and Sherry nodded in confirmation. Sherry pursed her lips briefly, then said, "I have an appointment next week t'get my birth control taken out. Then it could happen within a year or so."

Daryl glanced over at Beth, who was listening and nodding politely. Then he looked back to Dwight and Sherry and gave them a half-smile. "That's awesome. Congrats, guys."

They thanked him and the conversation gradually shifted as Sherry began telling funny stories from her kindergarten class. Then, eventually, Dwight and Daryl were talking about motorcycles again while Sherry and Beth were lightly chatting and sipping their waters. After a while, Sherry mentioned how all her songs had finished playing on the jukebox a long time ago, and Beth decided to get up and head over to take a look at the selection of music. Sherry offered to walk with her, as she had to make another trip to the restroom, and the women left the table together while Daryl and Dwight continued talking and smoking cigarettes.

Beth stood at the jukebox, dollar bills in hand, and pressed the buttons to sort through the collection of albums. Sherry had disappeared down the hallway to the restroom, and the bar was still buzzing with other patrons. Beth had seen Axel still working behind the bar, keeping busy, and she caught glimpses of Big Tiny and Oscar as they occasionally went in and out of the door to the back, carrying supplies and glasses back and forth. But she was focused in on the glass screen in front of her, squinting just slightly to read the words clearly in her admittedly tipsy state. She scrolled through artists and albums, reading through the H's to the few I's and on to the J's.

She was just getting through the L's when she felt a warm hand on her thigh. She froze, but for some reason, she assumed it was Sherry's hand, or maybe Daryl's. She thought that maybe the other woman was bumping into her to get her attention, or Daryl was sneaking up behind her to surprise her. But when she turned around, a small smile on her face, she quickly realized it was neither of the people she'd expected – in fact, she had no idea who this guy was. But he was middle-aged, he reeked of booze and pot, and he towered over her in a dirty plaid shirt and torn-up blue jeans. His brown hair was shaggy and greasy, and his beard and mustache were full and in need of a trim.

He was standing so close that she could feel his hot breath on her face when he spoke, and his hand was still firmly grasping her thigh. "Hey there, beautiful, ain't seen you – "

She'd been frozen at first, but something kicked in. Something was different this time, and whether it was the booze or her gradually growing self-confidence, Beth didn't know. But it told her muscles to act before she'd really thought about it, and then she was grabbing his hand firmly and recalling the recent lessons – at the same time, flashes of Rosita and Tara and Daryl playing through her mind, their unwillingness to be pushed around, with the briefest glimmer of Maggie's defiant expression in between. She let her muscles go through the memorized motions as she twisted his wrist with all her strength and stopped him mid-sentence.

The next thing she knew, her palm was pressed firmly into the back of his shoulder while she grasped his clammy, calloused hand in hers, twisting his arm behind him as far as it would go while he let out an angry cry of pain. Instinctively, Beth lifted one foot and slammed the heavy heel of her black boot down on top of the other man's beaten-up Timberland, pushing all her weight into her heel while he cried out in pain again.

" _Aagghh_ – what the _fuck_ , you bitch?! Lemme _go_!"

She twisted his arm a little harder and dug her heel in a little farther, and he cried out again. Before she could find her voice, she was looking up to see Daryl flying toward her. His face was full of a rage she'd only seen once before.

Before she could react or say anything, Daryl was grabbing the brown-haired man by his shoulders and yanking him out of Beth's grasp. She willingly released him and took half a step back, watching as Daryl slammed him into the nearby wall, right between the jukebox and the doorway to the hall. The other man was taller than Daryl but scrawnier, and he was still reeling from the pain Beth had inflicted on him. His back hit the wall with a loud _whomp_ , knocking the air out of his lungs. Daryl held him up with one hand while he pressed his other arm across the man's chest, pushing against his throat threateningly.

"You don't _fucking_ touch her, you got it?!" Daryl barked into the man's face, and the anger in his voice sent a chill down Beth's spine. The other bar patrons in the area were silent and staring now, watching in anticipation while some of them stepped away or tried to get out of the vicinity of whatever was about to happen.

To her shock, she watched the other man smile, then laugh. "We can share, man," he taunted. Then he was coughing and choking for breath as Daryl pressed his arm harder into the man's throat, right before Dwight rushed up to place his hands on Daryl's shoulders and try to coax him away.

"C'mon, man, it's jus' Len – he ain't worth it," Dwight said. "Where's Tiny? We'll have 'im kick this asshole out, don't break yer fuckin' hand, man."

"Ain't _my_ hand that's gonna be broke," Daryl growled, still staring intently at the other man – "Len" – as he held him up against the wall. "Maybe I'll let my girl have atcha again, _huh_?! Gonna have an awfully hard time pickin' up all yer _teeth_ with a busted hand."

Len let out another crude laugh between his coughing and gasping for breath as Daryl pressed harder against his throat, and Dwight continued tugging at Daryl's shoulders, urging him to step away. Beth stood and watched, frozen again, hands trembling as she realized what she'd _actually_ just done. Dwight turned and called out to Axel, ordering him to bring Big Tiny and Oscar inside.

"Yeah," Daryl called. "Better get 'em 'fore I go an' teach Len here _all the way_!"

She looked over and saw Axel scrambling out from behind his bar and rushing out the back door while frantically calling out Tiny's name.

Then there was a loud laugh, but it wasn't Len's. It was another man, older, approaching from across the bar. Beth stared as he waltzed up, a smug look on his weathered face as he beamed at Daryl, Dwight, and Len. He had shaggy, black-and-gray hair and a goatee and mustache of the same color – a lot like Daryl's. He looked to be closer to fifty or sixty, and while he was the same height as Daryl, he was heavier, and looked like he strictly got his exercise from bar fights. He was wearing a leather jacket and blue jeans, and Beth could smell his stench of booze and cigarettes from where she stood. She watched as Daryl turned and saw the man approach, stopping just a few feet away, and then Daryl was letting go of Len and stepping back to turn and face the man who'd been laughing so loudly.

"Daryl Dixon – you still comin' 'round here?" The man chuckled, his voice just as smug as his face. "That any way ta greet yer old friends?"

Daryl spit at the other man's feet angrily, glaring back at him. "We was never _friends_. Best tell yer _boy_ here ta keep his hands off the ladies – gonna get himself hurt if he don't _watch it."_

"Oh, yeah?" The older man said, appearing amused. Then he turned his attention to Beth, menacing smile growing bigger. She could feel the color draining from her face. "Is this the lady yer talkin' about? Huh – I can see why he'd wanna get a li'l friendly. How's that old tune go? ' _Ain't nothin' wrong with a li'l bump an' grind'_?"

He laughed loudly again and Daryl growled, taking a menacing step forward. This made the other man raise his eyebrows with intrigue as he looked back and forth from Beth to Daryl, doing the math in his head.

"Ohh – I see, so li'l Dixon got 'imself a girlfriend, huh?" The man taunted. " _That's_ why you ain't been comin' around."

Dwight reached out and grabbed Daryl's arm, stopping him from moving closer. "C'mon, man – we'll let Tiny take care of 'im."

But Daryl jerked his arm from his friend's grasp and continued glaring at the older man, fists clenched and shoulders tensed. "Ain't been comin' around 'cause a shitstains like _you_ , Joe."

"Pretty little thing, she is," Len commented from where he stood, still massaging his throat where Daryl had been pressing into it. "I'd pro'lly never leave the house if I had _that_ piece a ass at home – he called her his ' _girl'_!"

As Daryl shot Len another threatening glare, Joe ignored Daryl's remark and taunted loudly, " _Oh-ho!_ Well ain't that somethin'! She _is_ a pretty li'l thing, ain't she? Little young, though, don'tcha think? That what yer into, Daryl? _Little_ _girls_?"

An angry bile was rising in Beth's throat, and before Daryl could respond, she heard her own voice escaping her lips. "Go _fuck_ yourself, old man."

Beth saw Joe's lip curl and he snarled, smile fading momentarily. But then he just shook his head.

Daryl glanced over his shoulder and flashed Beth a small smirk before turning his attention back to Joe. "Took the words right outta my mouth."

" _Mm-mm-mm_ , such a damn shame," Joe said, voice rising as his tone became more and more mocking. "Some piece a ass like that got you all riled up at the slightest li'l thing – wha'ssa matter? 'Fraid we're gonna bring out the devil in ya? 'Fraid she's gonna see the _real_ Daryl Dixon?"

Beth swallowed hard and furrowed her brow, glancing at Daryl and seeing his lips pressed together, fists clenched at his side.

"Why don't you jus' get the fuck outta here, Joe?!" Dwight said angrily. "Ain't you got anything better t'do than ruin people's nights?"

"Always there ta stand up for the pussification of yer friend, ain't ya, Dwight? Just like I _always_ said," Joe continued, still grinning. "Ain't nothin' sadder than an _outdoor_ cat that thinks he's an _indoor_ cat!"

Daryl's eyes narrowed and he growled deep in his throat, and just as he took a meaningful step forward and Dwight's arm shot out to grab him, the back door swung open and Big Tiny burst through in a dark flash, closely followed by Oscar and Axel.

 _Finally_ , Beth thought, relief flooding her tensed muscles.

Joe was still laughing when they swarmed him, separating him from Daryl as Dwight grabbed Daryl's arm and attempted to hold him back from taking an angry leap at the older man. Daryl only retreated once he saw that Tiny and Oscar were effectively shoving Joe and Len toward the door. Then he turned and walked directly over to Beth, grabbing her hand and pulling her in close to him, looking her up and down as if assuring himself she was unharmed.

"You alright?" He asked, brow furrowed and blue eyes full of concern, still flickering with anger.

She nodded and looked up at him, mouth dry and hands still trembling. He grasped her hands in his and squeezed them tightly, trying to still them.

"I'm fine," she assured him, managing a weak smile. Now that she was thinking about it, how could she _not_ smile? Her lips turned upward in a genuine grin. Excitedly, she asked, "Did you _see_ that? I – I used that move on him!"

Daryl's worry quickly disappeared and a smile formed. "Yeah – you did. Jesus, woman… maybe _you_ should be the one teachin' the class. Shoulda let ya snap his arm, huh?"

Beth grinned and shrugged sheepishly. "I wasn't _really_ gonna do it. But… I think I mighta broke a toe or two."

He laughed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, planting a chaste kiss on the top of her head. Then he rumbled, "I was hopin' we wouldn't see those guys – Len musta snuck in when I wasn't lookin', I'm sorry."

She shook her head and gazed up at him, still smiling. "Don't be – it's not _your_ fault. 'Sides… nobody got hurt."

"Nobody important, anyway," he mumbled, smirking.

Sherry emerged from the restroom a couple minutes later, shocked and furious that she'd missed the action. Once things had calmed down, the group returned to their table with their waters while the bar resumed its usual buzz. Dwight and Daryl chain-smoked cigarettes and talked about how much they hated Joe and Len, and Daryl repeatedly apologized to Beth for not seeing Len enter the bar and slip past him. But she just shook her head and kissed him lightly on the lips each time, assuring him it was fine. Dwight remarked that he was impressed with how she'd handled herself, and Sherry was even more disappointed to have missed out on helping to beat up a couple of douchebags.

All in all, though, the four of them agreed that it had been an interesting night, and when Daryl suggested they plan a camping trip, Dwight and Sherry agreed eagerly. By the time Daryl and Dwight had sobered up from their handful of drinks and were ready to go home, they had all agreed to a camping trip in the Catskills for the following weekend. Dwight said they could use his five-seater truck to get them there and Sherry expressed her excitement for spending some time with little Malachi. Daryl explained that he would invite Carol, Tobin, and their daughters along, and ask Denise if he could borrow her SUV. Beth smiled and nodded along with them, and though she kept expecting the anxiety to kick in, it never did. In fact, the idea of going camping in the mountains – isolated, away from any people or cities or towns, with only a small group of close friends – was actually sounding pretty ideal.

As the last few rushes of booze went to Beth's head and the cool, night air hit her skin on the ride home, her arms wrapped tightly around Daryl's middle, she tried to imagine sharing a tent with Daryl and Malachi. Or laying in a sleeping bag and staring up at the stars with them. Maybe she and Daryl would get some alone time, too. Maybe it would be the perfect opportunity to tell him the truth… or at least try to.

But she quickly pushed that thought from her head. They stopped at a stoplight and she felt Daryl's hand grasping her thigh, giving it a squeeze like he always did. A tight knot of guilt formed in her stomach, and then she found herself wishing that they were taking a trip somewhere much, much farther away. And for a lot longer than a weekend.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Hmm maybe Beth is becoming a bit stronger than she realized...? ;) I absolutely had to put Joe in there because the whole "indoor cat/outdoor cat" thing he said in the show has always been one of my favorite things said to Daryl and I loved it even more when Daryl had that scene with Shiva in the cage and it was such a blatant callback - okay nevermind now I'm just rambling lmao. Please let me know what you thought! :D


	52. you're the echoes of my everything

_**you're the echoes of my everything**_

The ride home felt much shorter than the ride to C Block. Before Beth knew it, they were pulling into Daryl's usual parking spot in front of the apartment building and shutting off the bike, the lack of engine noise nearly deafening to Beth's ears. She adjusted quickly and they climbed off the bike, pulling off their helmets. She stood back and waited while Daryl pulled out the tarp and covered the bike, and when he stepped up onto the sidewalk, she reached her hand out and waited for him to take it. She had her helmet tucked beneath her other arm, as did he, and he smirked as he looked down at her outstretched hand, quickly taking it with his free hand and pulling her in to snake his arm around her waist. She giggled as he pushed his body into hers, half-forcefully guiding her across the sidewalk until her back was bumping into the cold, brick front of the apartment building.

Daryl made a soft growl in his throat and smirked as he stood up against her, pushing her against the hard bricks, his free arm still around her waist while he smirked and leaned down to kiss her hungrily. The taste of booze was mostly gone from his mouth, replaced with cigarettes and whatever soda he'd been drinking when his water had run out.

Beth closed her eyes and kissed him back, smiling against his lips as she suppressed more giggles at his playful flirting and how ornery an evening at the bar had made him. She was beginning to wonder if she was imagining things or if Daryl was actually seeming a little happier every day. Either way, she assured herself that it likely had very little to do with her, but she was still glad to see it.

When he pulled back and they both opened their eyes, he gazed down at her wistfully, eyelids heavy from a long night. He rumbled, "Can't stop thinkin' about how you looked when you was halfway ta snappin' Len's arm."

She giggled and reached a hand up to flirtatiously trace her fingernails across the stubble on his jawline, her eyebrows raised as she gazed up into his eyes. "Oh yeah?"

He grunted and smirked. "Yeah. Knew ya had it in ya, but I never expected ya t'look so… _damn_ _good_ while you were doin' it."

Beth laughed aloud at this, and Daryl chuckled softly with her, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss again. He pressed his mouth harder against hers at the same time as his body, and she groaned softly from her throat before they broke apart.

She smirked at him and licked her lips, then reached down and grabbed his hand, gently pushing her body into his and urging him away from the wall. "C'mon – let's go inside. I wanna get outta these pants."

She heard Daryl growl quietly and then she felt him pull his hand back so he could gently pinch her ass. She giggled, jumping a bit as his voice rumbled from close behind her, "Don't say that, you'll have me _sprintin'_ up the stairs. An' you an' I both know I'm too old fer that shit."

She laughed and grabbed his hand again as they entered the lobby of the apartment building and quickly headed to the stairs together. "Stop sayin' that – you're not _old_."

Daryl grunted as they began to climb the stairs. "Less'an twenty years between me an' Joe, an' you called him 'old man.'"

Beth shot him a look, still half-smiling, and saw that he was, too. "That's 'cause he looks like shit. Did you _see_ him? That guy does _not_ take care of himself."

Daryl let out a hearty laugh and Beth turned her head back to look at the stairs as she climbed them, stomach fluttering and cheeks warming up. She added, "Besides, I only called him that 'cause it was the first thing I could think of. Would've rather called him like, a – a _twat_ _waffle_ or somethin'."

Daryl laughed even louder at this, looking at Beth with an amused grin. "How 'bout a _cunt_ _monkey_?"

Beth giggled and exchanged a smile with him as they continued climbing the stairs. "Did you jus' make that up? I've actually _heard_ twat waffle before, but not cunt monkey."

Daryl scoffed. "I don't believe that. I'm sure _somebody's_ used it before." And they laughed together.

The hallway to apartments 3A and 3B felt quieter and more empty than usual. Or maybe it was just because Beth knew that apartment 3B was empty, and she and Daryl were the only ones on the third floor for the night. The inside of apartment 3A was exactly as they'd left it six hours prior. As soon as their helmets were put away and their jackets and shoes were stripped off, Beth went to the window in the living room and opened it to let in the cool, night breeze. The city was alit and alive with Saturday night activities below, but everyone and everything else felt distant for the time being. Once again, it was just Beth and Daryl in the quiet, dimly lit, little apartment.

It took Daryl about forty-five seconds to strip off his clothes and change into pajama pants and a wifebeater. By the time Beth was heading into her bedroom to change, he was stepping into the kitchen and opening the fridge.

"Want somethin' ta eat? I'm pretty hungry," he offered.

She paused in her doorway and glanced back. "Yeah, I'll have whatever you're havin'."

Beth listened to the sounds of Daryl making food in the kitchen while she changed into pajamas behind her half-open bedroom door. When she emerged, she padded barefoot into the kitchen and peeked around Daryl's shoulder to see him cooking macaroni and cheese. He glanced down at her with a sleepy half-smile.

"So, ya had fun?" He asked.

She nodded and leaned back against the edge of the counter, watching him cook. "Yeah, did you?"

He grunted. "I always have fun. 'Specially with those two – they're Mal's godparents, ya know."

Beth raised her eyebrows. "Oh, really? Well – yeah, that seems fitting. I think you picked a good couple."

He smiled sheepishly at her, then turned back to pick up the pot of noodles and move to begin draining them into the sink. Beth stayed out of the way, watching him. She was getting hungrier by the second and a slight thumping in her head told her that the alcohol was wearing off. But her desire to talk – or maybe just to hear Daryl's voice – hadn't receded.

"I'm excited t'go camping," she said cheerfully.

He nodded, carefully pouring the noodles into the colander as steam rose up from the sink and into his face. Then he poured the noodles back into the pot. "Me, too. Might be gettin' cold up there this time a year, though. Better pack warm."

Beth smiled as she watched him, his back to her, moving from the sink back to the stove. "What about at night? You wanna share a sleeping bag?"

Daryl grunted and she could see his neck turning a little pink from where she stood. He mumbled, "Maybe. Behave yerself, we'll be sharin' a tent with the kid."

She giggled and he glanced over his shoulder to flash her a playful smirk.

They joked and flirted a little more, making half-serious plans for the camping trip while Daryl finished preparing the mac and cheese, portioning it out into two bowls. They sat down to the table together and began eating, and within seconds, they'd both grown silent and completely focused on their food. Daryl cleaned his bowl about a minute before Beth finished her own, and they both heaved satisfied sighs.

And then, with no more than a couple head nods towards the bedroom and a few meaningful looks and smiles, Beth and Daryl wordlessly cleaned up their dishes and retreated into her bedroom, leaving the rest of the apartment dark and quiet behind them. They shut the door tightly, making sure to lock it, before shutting off the lights and stripping down to their underwear. Then they crawled into bed together, slipping beneath the blankets and reflexively wrapping up with one another, limbs intertwining and body heats merging. Daryl hummed contentedly, arms wrapped around Beth and holding her close against him. She relaxed into him and smiled to herself without really realizing it.

They lay together, in the dark and the quiet, for a long moment. But Beth could feel that Daryl wasn't falling asleep, and her mind was still buzzing from the excitement of the night.

"I really did have fun," she said quietly. "And I think Dwight an' Sherry are really nice… They care a lot about you. They seem like family."

Daryl grunted weakly and mumbled, "They are… I'm glad ya had fun. Glad ya like 'em. They like you, too. But I already knew they would – ain't no way anybody _couldn't_ like ya."

Beth smiled to herself again and nestled into his arms just a little closer.

 _If only he knew the truth,_ that familiar voice piped up at the back of Beth's head. She used all her strength to push it away. _Not tonight,_ she thought. _Just not tonight._

She swallowed back her fears and tried to focus on Daryl's warmth enveloping her. She felt his chin hair tickling her neck as he leaned down to plant a soft trail of kisses along the edge of her jaw. She hummed quietly, and then he rested his chin in the crook of her neck and she felt his rough, stubbly cheek against hers.

With more words still echoing in her head from earlier, she let the silence settle between them before asking tentatively, "What was Joe talkin' about tonight? When he said that thing about an outdoor cat thinkin' he's an indoor cat – was that s'posed t'be some kinda metaphor or somethin'?"

She felt Daryl grunt against her back, then he mumbled next to her ear, "Somethin' like that. He jus' thinks he knows me, likes ta talk shit an' try ta rile me up. Gets his kicks outta pushin' people to their limits… But he _don't_ know me. So it doesn't actually bother me."

Beth _hmm_ ed thoughtfully and relaxed into him a little more. She had a feeling there were some small details he was purposely omitting.

 _Sure seemed like it bothered you,_ she thought, remembering how Daryl's jaw had clenched at Joe's words, a vein in his neck becoming prominent even from where she stood. He'd been ready to hit Joe, and he probably would have if Dwight hadn't stopped him. _Maybe you don't like to be reminded of your past just as much as I don't… Another thing we have in common._

He squeezed her in reassurance and planted another kiss on the edge of her jaw.

"That stuff you an' Dwight were talkin' about earlier," she said quietly, the _real_ question that had been pecking at her brain for the last couple of hours finally forming itself into words. "'Bout – back home. Are you… _worried_?"

She felt him tense up briefly but then he quickly relaxed. She regretted asking for a second, fully aware that she was risking bringing up the news about the bust and her own family. But she had to know how deep of a connection she was dealing with, and how worried – or prepared – she should be. Especially if she was going to eventually tell Daryl the truth about her own family… about everything.

"Worried 'bout my brother?" He mumbled quietly, and she felt his voice vibrating in his chest from where he was pressed against her back.

She nodded against the pillow, their cheeks rubbing briefly. "I mean – I know you prob'ly don't wanna think about that, but you jus'… seemed concerned. When Dwight brought it up."

He grunted half-heartedly and his voice was husky, sleepy. "Ain't really worried 'bout him bein' in prison or nothin' so much as I'm worried who he might be hurtin'… I'ono, that guy deserved havin' his throat opened up, but… sounds a helluva lot like somethin' Merle would do. Fer a lotta reasons. Jus' can't decide which one's most likely."

Beth furrowed her brow and shut her eyes, still trying to rack her brain and figure out why that name sounded so familiar. But her memory was shot right now. Her mind was exhausted and drained from the night, and all the alcohol. And the pasta in her stomach was beginning to make her sleepy.

She waited a long moment, then whispered hesitantly, "You think… he'd _kill_ somebody?"

"Definitely," Daryl mumbled, a hint of sadness in his voice. "He can justify a lotta things to himself… Honestly, if he was the one that killed that guy, then I dunno why he waited so long. Jus'… don't make much sense to me right now. I'ono."

Beth could tell from the tone of his last few words that Daryl was done talking about it, and she made a soft _hmm_ in her throat before snuggling into him closer. She felt him relax against her a couple seconds later, and then his breathing was growing steady and his grasp around her was becoming more lax.

But she was still thinking. Wondering to herself if Daryl's brother was someone she needed to be worried about. Nevermind the weird recognition of his name, but what if that murder meant he was leaving Georgia? What if he got a wild hair up his ass and decided to track down his little brother? Would Beth be in trouble? Would Daryl be in danger? Even worse, what if Daryl's brother ended up dead, as well, and Daryl had to go back to Georgia to take care of it? There were so many terrifying possibilities that came with _any_ news about Merle Dixon.

And then she thought to herself how odd Daryl's reaction was – how he seemed so indifferent to the idea of his brother murdering someone. Was it indifference? Maybe it was more like familiarity, fading quickly into desensitization. Maybe Daryl was just used to hearing things like that. Maybe Merle was just a far worse person than Beth could've ever imagined.

 _Or maybe,_ she thought to herself, _he could understand the kinda things you do in the moment, when you think it's the only choice you have…_

She fell into a fitful sleep soon after, nestled snugly in Daryl's arms beneath the blankets, and her dreams were nothing but flashes of the farm interspersed with small flashes of the church. And a man's strange voice off in the distance that sounded so _familiar_ yet so _foreign_ at the same time.

* * *

When Beth awoke on Sunday morning, the first thing she noticed was the lack of Daryl's presence in her bed. The next thing she noticed was the smell of coffee quickly filling her nostrils, and then the suspicious silence of the apartment. There was no toddler voice talking too loudly every few seconds, or cartoon sounds coming from the living room. And finally, she opened her eyes and noticed that her bedroom door was half-open. She glanced at the clock and blinked the sleepy haze from her vision to see that it was a quarter past eight.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, running a hand through her short hair – which seemed to get wavier every time she washed it and didn't use a blow dryer or flatiron. She reached over and grabbed the half-full water bottle sitting on her nightstand, chugging the remainder down in three long gulps. But before she could gather the energy to pull the covers away and get out of bed, Daryl was walking in, two steaming mugs in his hands. He half-smiled when he saw that she was awake and held out one of the mugs in offering.

"Mornin'," he rumbled.

She smiled, gazing up at him and suddenly forgetting about the dull throbbing in her forehead and her extremely dry mouth, and reached out to carefully take the mug from him. "Morning," she replied, blowing on the hot coffee before taking a tentative sip. The mug was almost too hot for her hands.

"How'd ya sleep?" Daryl asked, sitting down on the bed beside her and sipping from his own mug of coffee.

Beth shrugged, smile fading as she lied, "Good. You?"

He furrowed his brow and said, "Didn't seem like ya slept good. Kept tossin' an' turnin', kickin' the hell outta me. You havin' dreams about kickin' Len's ass some more?"

She smirked and let out a chuckle. "No – I dunno. I don't remember what I dreamt about, I just know it wasn't fun."

"'S alright," he rumbled. "'Least we got a couple more hours till the boy gets home. But I'm up now... Can't really sleep later'an about eight anymore."

"So, maybe we can just… hang out?" She suggested with a crooked half-smile.

He smiled back and took another sip of his coffee. "Yeah. _Hang out_."

She giggled and playfully tapped his leg. "Why d'you say it like that? Don't be _weird_."

He laughed and shook his head, raising the mug to his lips to hide his bashful smile with another swig of coffee.

"So what d'you wanna do today?" Beth asked, yawning between words. "When Mal gets home, I mean."

Daryl shrugged. "We'll see how wound up he still is. Might actually be tired fer once after such an eventful night. Why – you got somethin' in mind?"

She shook her head, giving him a sleepy half-smile. "Not particularly, but maybe we can take him to the park before supper. If you both have the energy."

He snickered quietly and nodded. "Bet he'll love that idea."

They sat together on the bed, legs stretched out next to each other as they sipped coffee and talked, joking and laughing, basking in their lazy Sunday morning and the peace in the apartment. And after a trip to the bathroom (and thoroughly brushing her teeth), Beth found herself scooting closer and closer until she was wrapped up in Daryl again, their half-empty mugs sitting on the nightstand. The bedroom was filled with quiet whispers, breathy giggling, and the sounds of wet kisses.

After a solid hour of rolling around together in bed, Daryl got up and ran a hand through his messy hair before heading off to the bathroom. While he was gone, Beth took a long swig of coffee and grabbed her guitar from where it sat in the corner. And when Daryl returned, she was lying on her back on the bed, guitar resting atop her tummy while she leisurely adjusted the tuning and plucked strings.

When he paused inside the doorway, Beth looked up to see Daryl smirking as he gazed at her, and she scooted over and patted the empty spot next to her on the bed. He quickly reclaimed his place and drained the last of his coffee, then laid back and put his hands behind his head while Beth resumed plucking at her guitar strings. She peeked over at him in her peripherals and saw his eyes drifting shut, a look of relaxation on his face. Without much thought or effort, she placed her fingers over the frets and began lazily playing the first thing that came to mind. She saw his foot moving along with the music, and then she opened her mouth and sang quietly, the words falling from her lips softly and effortlessly.

" _Hey, don't write yourself off yet, it's only in your head. You feel left out, and looked down on. Just do your best, do everything you can_ …"

She smiled to herself as she quietly sang and played, the music filling her small bedroom, as well as her body. Daryl seemed to be getting into the song, wiggling his foot more vigorously with the music. A faint smirk played across his mouth as he laid back and listened, eyes still closed. When the song ended, he turned his head and opened his eyes to gaze at her. But he didn't open his mouth or speak, and she smiled back sheepishly.

Then she began playing a different song, still gazing back at him. His eyes were unfocused and he still looked tired – or maybe he was just lost in thought. She couldn't quite tell if he was gazing at her or past her, until she strummed through the intro of her next song and his smirk grew a little bigger. She felt her cheeks getting warm for some reason. And then the words were playing in her head from an old memory, and she was opening her mouth to let them flow out freely. Something about singing openly made her feel… relieved. In a way. Either that, or it was the dreamy look in Daryl's blue eyes. She wasn't quite sure which, at the moment.

"… _Do you feel a certain sense of synergy between yourself and me? A kind of macabre and somber Wondertwin kind of harmony? What if it was you? You that I needed a-all along..._ "

The warmth in her cheeks faded away and she smirked back at him as she sang, her voice growing softer as she continued to strum the guitar, faint vibrations echoing through her body. At one point, she saw him vaguely arch an eyebrow at her and she had to glance away for a moment, smiling bashfully through the words. What was that look in his eyes? Admiration? Or something more? She couldn't tell, but her stomach fluttered at the thought.

"… _They say that what doesn't kill us, makes us who we are_ … _All this time and everything's changed, but I still feel the same. All good things eventually end and get washed down the drain…"_

A couple minutes later, she let her voice fade out and dramatically plucked the last few notes of the song, then giggled to herself. Her eyelids drifted shut for a moment while she was still smiling without realizing it, and then she heard Daryl's low voice from beside her.

"Like havin' my own personal entertainer all the time," he mumbled, chuckling softly.

Beth laughed and turned her head to gaze over at him, and without a word, she started lazily strumming the opening notes to another song. His smile grew wider for a brief moment and he began wiggling his foot along with the music again.

Carol showed up with Malachi about an hour-and-a-half later. The toddler was bursting with excitement, new stories, and all kinds of facts about bugs, happily carrying a fluffy, pink caterpillar. He seemed happy to be home, and especially to see his dad and "Rosie" again. After Mal gave Carol a long and grateful hug, Daryl instructed him to go put his things away in the bedroom and play quietly while the adults talked, and he quickly obeyed. Beth sat nearby at the small dining table, sipping a warm cup of coffee with Daryl's half-empty cup sitting across from her. Daryl invited Carol inside and offered her some coffee, which she accepted with a smile.

"He behave 'imself?" Daryl asked as Carol took a long sip from her steaming mug.

She nodded and lowered the mug, cupping it between her hands while glancing between Daryl and Beth as she talked. "He was an _angel_ – for the most part. He threw a little fit when the guides wanted him to spend a couple minutes seeing the _other_ rooms, but we got through it. An' he slept like a rock – he was up well past his bedtime, so you shouldn't have any trouble getting him down for a nap later. He literally spent so much time in that bug room that he started teaching the _other_ kids about the exhibit."

Daryl chuckled and nodded, beaming proudly. "Boy loves his damn insects. Thanks again fer takin' him."

Carol smiled, casually walking over to the small dining table while Daryl followed. Beth sat up a little straighter when the older woman sat down in the empty chair across from her, and Daryl walked over to pick up his coffee mug and lean against the arm of the couch while he listened to Carol talk.

"No problem," she said. "It was fun for me, too. Sophia used to love going to museums, but I think she grew out of it… Anyway, how was your guys' night?" She glanced to Beth meaningfully.

Beth shrugged and looked over at Daryl, who still appeared casual and leisurely as he held his coffee mug in one hand and replied, "Good. Stayed out pretty late, got t'sleep in. I can't complain."

"Except for those jerks in the bar," Beth commented, and Carol's smile quickly faded as she flashed Beth a look of concern.

"Bar?" She asked, looking to Daryl. "You guys went to a bar? You didn't take her ta C Block, did you?"

Daryl frowned. "Yeah, why? We went with Dwight an' Sherry, wasn't no big deal – shit, she 'bout whooped ol' Len's scrawny ass."

Beth instantly grinned and added, "Yeah – with a move I learned from the class!"

Carol still looked concerned, eyebrows raised as she looked from Daryl to Beth and back again. Then her face relaxed a bit and she asked Beth, "You did?"

Daryl and Beth nodded simultaneously. Beth replied, "I mean, he didn't do anything – just grabbed my leg. But it stopped him pretty fast."

Daryl chuckled softly and Beth flashed him a smirk while Carol shook her head.

"Told you that place is bad news," she said, looking at Daryl. "Axel an' his friends are good guys, but they can't keep that place under control. Did Joe show up, too? Try t'give you trouble?"

Beth thought she might've seen Daryl rolling his eyes for the briefest second, but she wasn't sure. He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee, then said, "Yeah, but Tiny an' Oscar took care of 'em real quick. Nothin' happened. Place is a lot better'an it used ta be."

Beth could almost hear the sarcastic " _okay,_ _Mom?_ " at the end of Daryl's sentence – though he didn't say it aloud. She bit back her own comments and decided to sit and listen unless she was spoken to. With Friday morning still fresh in her memory, she couldn't help but sense a bit of leftover tension between the three of them. And even though Carol had greeted her equally and was speaking to her like normal, she got the feeling that there was some disappointment – or disapproval – behind the older woman's gaze.

But Carol's brow was still furrowed, and she said to Daryl, "You think that was the best place to take her? Was that supposed t'be a date?"

Beth opened her mouth and began to interject, "I liked it, everybody there is really – "

But Daryl quickly changed the subject, stopping Beth mid-sentence and effectively ending their talk of the bar. "So we're plannin' on goin' camping next weekend – us an' the kid with Dwight an' Sherry." His tone was casual, but Beth could hear the sense of frustration behind it, and she knew he hadn't interrupted her for any reason than to spare them both from a lecture, or more disapproving glares. "You an' Tobin wanna come, bring yer girls? We're jus' gonna spend a couple nights up in the Catskills."

He successfully veered the conversation in another direction, though. Carol quickly dropped the subject of the bar and smiled, beginning to nod her head yes. But then she paused and furrowed her brow as her mouth formed a small ' _o'_ of realization. "Oh – no, actually, _this_ coming weekend? Tobin invited me and Sophia t'go with him and Charlie to Westchester for the weekend. He wants to visit his parents."

Daryl and Beth both raised their eyebrows, and Daryl said, "Oh – alright. Like a – meetin' the parents kinda thing, huh?"

Carol's cheeks turned a light shade of pink and she smiled, shrugging bashfully. "I suppose, it's something like that… I dunno. Tobin wants t'leave Friday evening, but I was thinking about leaving right after class on Saturday – and I'm guessing you won't be there?"

Daryl shook his head. "Nah, we're talkin' about leaving right after work Friday, an' comin' back Sunday afternoon."

Carol nodded, thinking on his words for a moment before responding, "We'll figure something out. I could probably get someone t'cover the class for one day. Maybe Tara and Rosita wanna fill in for a day – they were talking about it a few weeks ago when Sophia was sick."

"I'm sure they could manage," Daryl agreed. "Speakin' a that, she seems like she's doin' a lot better."

Carol's eyes lit up and she smiled, nodding again. "Yeah, she is. I think therapy's starting to have a real effect, but she and Charlie have gotten really close so I think that's been… really _good_ for her."

Daryl and Beth both smiled at the older woman, and Beth was relieved to hear that she'd been correct in her assumptions of the preteen. She wondered if therapy was _really_ helping, or if it was just having a friend. But then she wondered, how much effect can _one_ person really have on another? Surely, it was just the therapy making a breakthrough, right?

"Glad ta hear it," Daryl rumbled, draining the last of his coffee.

"Thanks, Daryl," Carol said softly, then watched him walk over to leave his empty mug in the sink.

Beth sipped her coffee, watching as Carol did the same. The older woman gave her a meaningful look and Beth tried to interpret it, but then Daryl returned, and before he could lean against the arm of the couch, Carol was speaking in a lowered voice, her smile quickly fading.

"I, um," she started, glancing between Beth and Daryl as she spoke. "I wanted to apologize to you both for Friday morning – it's none of my business what you guys do behind closed doors. And I really didn't intend to bust in on you or anything. So, I'm sorry."

She had been looking pointedly to Daryl as well, but when she finished, she was staring into Beth's eyes. Beth sat, frozen, and nodded awkwardly. She glanced over at Daryl, who met her gaze and gave her a small nod. And then she understood that Carol had already _told_ Daryl she was sorry – this was an apology meant for "Rosie."

Beth forced a smile to her lips despite the redness that was blooming on her face and shrugged indifferently. "It's fine, really. I understand – you're not used t'Daryl having a… girlfriend."

She felt weird saying it aloud, and a little brazen once she heard herself and saw Carol's reaction. Carol furrowed her brow briefly, but then she was smiling stiffly and nodding in agreement. Daryl was leaning against the arm of the couch, his arms crossed over his chest as he chewed thoughtfully on the tip of his thumb and half-joined the exchange.

"Yeah, exactly," Carol said quietly, a smile plastered to her lips. Then she turned her head and looked at Daryl, her voice coming out as an attempt at casual as she asked, "You're gonna tell Mal, right? He asked me a couple questions yesterday and… well, I'm not sure what I'm supposed t'say to him."

Beth saw Daryl's cheeks grow a little pink and he coughed into his hand, standing up straight and nodding. "Yeah. I was gonna talk to 'im… soon."

Carol pursed her lips briefly, then said, "Probably better t'make it sooner rather than… later."

Daryl nodded again, then scratched his head awkwardly and muttered, "I will. I'd better go check on 'im. I'll see ya in the mornin', though."

Carol drank the last of her coffee and set the mug down, standing up and reaching out to give Daryl a quick hug. When they pulled apart, she glanced at Beth and said, "Okay, see you guys in the morning." Then she moved towards the front door while Daryl moved toward the hall.

But just as she got to the front door, Carol paused and turned around. Daryl disappeared down the hall to his bedroom, but Carol was pointing her finger at Beth, an expression on her face like she'd just remembered something important.

"Be – uh, Rosie," Carol said, and Beth froze for a second. "I almost forgot t'tell you."

 _Did she just… almost call me Beth?_ She thought.

"Yeah?" She asked curiously, second-guessing her own ears.

"Your follow-up at the clinic is this week – on Thursday," Carol finished. "I can go with you again, if you want."

Without much thought, Beth nodded and said, "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Okay, I'll let you know the plan in the next couple days," Carol smiled, then waved good-bye and headed out the front door, closing it behind her.

 _I misheard her,_ Beth told herself, still replaying that split-second of Carol's voice in her head. _There's no way she could know my real name... Even if she did, why wouldn't she have said something by now?_

Thankfully, Daryl and Malachi appeared together from the hallway before Beth could get too lost in her thoughts. And then she was quickly forgetting about whatever Carol did or didn't say because she was too busy debating with the boys about what they should have for lunch.

Beth and Daryl tried to prepare lunch together, but it seemed that Mal was feeling ornery after his eventful night and morning, and he refused to stay in the living room and play. Beth was going to try to talk quietly with Daryl about what Carol had said, about talking to Mal and maybe about why she'd seemed so biased against C Block, but whenever she was about to, Mal would wander into the kitchen and begin asking questions and trying to grab things.

At one point, Daryl spotted him in the living room and asked what he had in his hand, to which the toddler quickly turned and began to run away, which made Daryl immediately chase after him to get a pair of scissors out of his hands. Beth worked on preparing lunch, smirking to herself and listening to the boys argue. She suppressed a giggle when she heard Daryl complain loudly that Carol had let Mal have too much sugar before bringing him home.

They sat down and had lunch together, though Mal was squirmy in his seat and messier with his food than usual. Beth could see Daryl's frustration growing and she tried to help distract the toddler and keep him entertained. Once he had a full meal in his belly, he began to calm down a bit, though Daryl had to repeat himself more often as they were all cleaning up. And when Mal asked if he could go play with his toys in the bedroom, Daryl urged him to go on.

Daryl finally sat down on the couch with Beth, heaving a tired sigh as he sunk into the cushions beside her. She looked over and smiled at him, then leaned in to kiss him softly. When she leaned back, she pulled her legs up and rested them over his lap.

"Still wanna take that li'l hellion out in public?" Daryl rumbled, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Beth giggled and shrugged. "Maybe he can get out all that excess energy he's got today."

Daryl grunted. "Maybe. Let's see how he handles goin' down fer a nap first."

She nodded, then asked, "What'd you think about, um – what Carol said…?"

He arched an eyebrow and mumbled, "Which part?"

She hesitated. "Um, talkin' to Mal. If he's askin' questions, then I mean…"

Daryl shrugged. "Yeah, I know. 'Spose we can sit 'im down an' talk to him after his nap – or I can. Ya ain't gotta do it, if ya don't want."

Beth scoffed. "Why wouldn't I?"

He shrugged again. "I'ono. 'S alright if you don't wanna deal with it yet. I'm his dad, I'm the one that _has_ to explain the situation to him."

She shook her head, half-smiling. "No, I wanna talk to him, too. If he has questions, then we can answer 'em together. Or – I'll do my best."

Daryl smirked, studying her for a moment, then said, "Alright. If that's what ya want."

She raised her eyebrows, batting her eyelashes at him playfully. "Well, it is."

His smirk grew into a smile and Beth returned it with one of her own. Then he was reaching over and grabbing the back of her neck to pull her in for a long kiss, and she kissed him back eagerly.

When they pulled apart, she was still smiling, her arm wrapped around Daryl's middle while his arm was over her shoulders. She leaned into him, her legs still rested across his lap, and lay her head against his shoulder. A chilly breeze was blowing in through the open living room window and the TV was at a low volume.

With Daryl's words – " _which part?_ " – still in her head, Beth asked quietly, "So… what's Carol's deal with C Block? Has she been there before?"

Daryl grunted and she felt him squeeze her arm lightly. "Yeah, while back. She went on a couple dates with Axel, but it didn't go nowhere. Shit was… different back then. Wasn't long after I first moved into this place. Back when I was still havin' a hard time takin' care a Mal by myself an' dealin' with, uh – losin' his mom."

"Oh," Beth said softly, and wrapped her arm just a little bit tighter around him. She was starting to piece it together now and understand why Carol might be so biased. She was also beginning to understand why he'd omitted some of these details, though she couldn't help but ask, "Were you really friends with those guys? Joe an' Len?"

Daryl grunted again, and Beth realized she was beginning to recognize the different tones of grunts he made – this one had been a bit ashamed, like he was reluctant to admit to what she'd figured out. She was about to apologize for asking, but then he rumbled, "Yeah… Thought they were alright at first. We'd get drunk at the bar, start shit with people. But all they ended up doin' was… remindin' me. Of everything I left back in Georgia. They're the same kinda assholes Merle would hang around with... They're the same kinda assholes that'd _stab_ me if they thought I'd fucked 'em over. Or jus' 'cause they felt like it... Stupid bastards that think they're smart bastards – that's the most dangerous kind, though. They'll do all _kinds_ a stupid shit. An' then turn around and _justify_ it… Nah, I wasn't friends with them fer very long at all. Never will be again."

 _So that's what Joe meant,_ she thought, absent-mindedly digging her fingers into Daryl's side. _Maybe Joe saw that side of Daryl – the ugly side. Maybe a glimpse… A moment of weakness._

"They think they know the real you," she said softly, more thinking aloud than intentionally speaking.

But Daryl heard her, and she could hear him swallow before he said softly, "Ain't no _real_ me. This is it… They jus' think there's only one version you can be of yerself – which ain't true. I got too many reasons ta be _better_."

 _Me, too,_ Beth thought. _But would you even believe me if I told you I'm trying to be better? Would you think it's possible that I want to leave everything from Georgia as far behind me as I can? Or would you just think it's another lie, like all the lies I've had to tell you for fear of going to prison? My dark past is a hell of a lot fresher than yours, and probably more dangerous…_

She felt him squeezing her arm and she lifted her head to look up into his blue eyes, a slightly concerned expression on his face. He must've noticed her long silence, or the contemplative look in her eyes. He asked quietly, "Ya alright?"

She smiled weakly and nodded, that familiar knot of guilt making itself known in her gut. There was a quiet voice at the back of her mind, repeating like a faint pulse: _Tell him, tell him, tell him_ …

But she silenced it and replied, "Yeah. I was just thinkin'… I really like _this_ version of you."

Daryl grunted in a half-chuckle and smirked at her. "Me, too."

They sat together on the couch, watching TV while Mal played in the bedroom, resting against each other and kissing every now and then. When the rerun they'd been watching finished, Daryl got up and motioned for Beth to join him, and she knew what he was planning without having to ask. She obliged and followed him down the hall and to the bedroom.

The blond toddler was sitting on the floor, his usual array of toys spread out before him as he made sound effects and played with a toy truck in one hand and a doll in the other. His new, pink caterpillar was lying on the floor beside him. He looked up excitedly when he saw his dad and "Rosie" entering the bedroom and sitting down on the carpet across from him.

"Um, I have a-a queen to save," Mal said. "But if you guys wanna pway, you can be the knights um, at the uh, at the moat. For now."

Daryl chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, that's okay, bud. Thanks, though. Didn't wanna interrupt your game, but, uh… I wanted ta talk to ya."

The excitement on Mal's face faded and it grew quizzical. "Am I um, am I in trouble?"

Beth covered her mouth to hide a small smile and glanced over at Daryl, who smirked and shook his head. "No, son, you're not in trouble. But I wanted ta ask ya somethin'."

Mal was sitting and giving Daryl his full attention now, toys still grasped in his motionless hands. "Okay, Dad."

Daryl exchanged a look with Beth, who gave him her best supportive smile. Then he cleared his throat and asked the toddler, "Well, Malachi, how would you feel about havin' yer own room?"

Mal furrowed his brow and asked, "Why can't I sleep with you, Dad?"

"We already been over this," Daryl replied. "Ya gotta be sleepin' in yer own bed, like a big boy."

Mal sighed, but said, "Okay."

Daryl nodded, then said, "Okay. So, maybe we can put yer bed an' yer toys, all yer clothes, in the other room, and you'd have it all ta yourself. What d'ya think a that?"

Mal wasn't smiling, though. In fact, he was frowning, and glancing at Beth like he expected her to say something disappointing, too. Then he asked, "In Rosie's room?"

"Yeah," Daryl confirmed.

"But where would Rosie sleep?"

Daryl pursed his lips at this and looked over at Beth, who bit her lip and hesitated. Then, seeing that Daryl was still trying to figure out what to say, she said, "Um – well, you know how um… you saw me an' your dad in bed the other day? When you and Carol came home?"

Mal nodded, watching Beth expectantly.

She hesitated, then continued, "Well, we…" Her voice quickly trailed off and she realized she had no idea how to word what she really wanted to say. She looked over at Daryl desperately and saw that he appeared a little more confident than before.

"Mal, me an' Rosie are boyfriend and girlfriend now," he said simply. "D'you know what that means?"

The toddler looked back and forth between Beth and Daryl for a moment . "Yeah. That – that means she's gonna stay. Right, Rosie?"

Beth's eyes widened briefly but she quickly smiled, the expectant look on Mal's face instantly warming her heart. She nodded and said, "That's right."

Then he pressed his lips together thoughtfully as he gazed at his father with a furrowed brow and asked, "Is Rosie gonna be my new mom?"

Beth blushed and looked down at her lap while Daryl let out a nervous chuckle and quickly said, "No, son, that don't mean she's gonna be yer new mom. Nobody'll _ever_ take yer mom's place, you know that."

Mal raised his eyebrows and said, "But if you're boyfwiend and girlfwiend, then… you're um, yer gonna get married, right?"

Beth couldn't stop the giggle that escaped her lips this time and she quickly looked over at Daryl with an apologetic expression. But he just smirked at her.

"Maybe one day," he told his son. "But for now, it's just… dating. She's not your mom, an' you don't gotta treat her any different. You still gotta respect her like you normally would, but you don't gotta call her mom or nothin' like that."

Mal nodded, his little brain working behind big, blue eyes to process this new information. Then he said, "But I like sleeping in _your_ room, Dad."

Daryl frowned and glanced over at Beth. She shot him a look that said, _I think this is your area, Dad.._.

He sighed softly and stroked his chin hair. "Okay. But what about havin' yer _own_ space, bud? You could have the whole floor, we could put all yer drawin's up on the walls – "

Mal let out a small whine and argued, "No, I like _this_ room! I don't _want_ a new mom _or_ a new room."

Beth bit down on her lip and looked over at Daryl with a concerned expression. The toddler's words sent a pang of guilt through her chest. But Daryl didn't get angry. In fact, Beth thought he might've looked a little sad. Or maybe he was just disappointed at Mal's reaction.

"Mal, she's not your new mom," he said firmly, his eyes soft and pleading as he stared down at his son. "But she _is_ a part of our life now. If ya wanna stay in here, that's fine. We'll give it more time. But eventually – "

Mal dropped his toys and huffed angrily. He was quite possibly the most passive aggressive toddler Beth had ever met, but she knew exactly where he got it from. He stood up and picked up his pink caterpillar, then turned away from Beth and Daryl, storming over to his bed and lying down to face the wall with his back turned to them. He clutched the fluffy caterpillar in his arms.

"I'd like to be alone, pwease," he said loudly, and Beth looked over at Daryl with wide eyes.

But Daryl just sighed and slumped his shoulders a bit, then gestured for Beth to join him as they both stood up. She was still baffled by the young boy's reaction, watching him as he lay in his bed and fiddled with the stuffed caterpillar, his back still turned to them. She could tell this was a normal reaction from him by the way Daryl was taking it, and she followed his cues as they moved to leave the bedroom.

When Beth stepped out into the hall, Daryl paused and turned back to the toddler to say, "Mal, it's nap time anyway, so I'm gonna leave ya be, an' ya better take a nap. But we're gonna have ta talk about this later… Okay?"

Beth could hear Mal sighing heavily, and then a mumbled, "Okay, _Dad_ …"

Daryl nodded and left the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him but leaving it ajar so he could still hear and see Mal from the hall. Beth walked with him back to the living room, frowns on their faces. They plopped down on the couch together, sitting in silence for a few minutes.

"Well, that didn't go the way I thought it would," Beth said quietly, looking over to see Daryl gazing at the TV with a contemplative look on his face.

He grunted, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Yeah… Me either. But… 's kinda what I was afraid of."

Beth furrowed her brow. "You knew that he'd think I'm trying to replace his mom?"

Daryl shrugged, glancing at her apprehensively before mumbling, "Figured it'd be somethin' like that. He, uh… I'ono. He's got a lotta questions 'bout her. But… I ain't told 'im much."

Beth's frown deepened, and without hesitation, she asked, "Why not? You have all those pictures an' stuff – you've talked to him about it. Don't you guys visit her every year?"

She could see him chewing harder on the inside of his cheek as he averted his eyes downward, refusing to meet her gaze. He looked down at his lap, picking at his fingernails. "Yeah, but that's _all_ we do," he rumbled. "Bring some flowers. I tell 'im some good memories. But he's got… he wants ta know _everything_. An' I don't… I dunno how ta tell 'im all that. I don't _want_ to tell him all that."

She quickly realized this was becoming a much deeper conversation than she'd expected. Daryl's relationship with his dead girlfriend was a lot more complicated than she'd thought. And the mom that Mal never knew was apparently no more than a handful of stories and a headstone to the toddler. Beth felt a heavy guilt for how she'd come into the apartment, invaded the boys' space and their lives. No wonder the toddler was so upset at the thought of moving bedrooms – he thought it was the start of a bigger change, like "Rosie" was going to come in and erase whatever was left of his real mom.

She could understand that. She knew what it felt like to have a dead mom, after all. Though she felt even worse for the toddler because he was too young to remember or understand just how much his mother really had loved him.

She let Daryl's words sit between them for a long moment. Then she was unable to find anything else she wanted to say, and an awkward, incredulous smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she asked, "But why not? That's his _mom_ , Daryl."

She recognized the frustration on his face – put there to hide the hurt that was lurking just beneath the surface. He leaned forward on the couch and rested his elbows on his knees, hanging his head and gazing down at his socks. His brows were furrowed thoughtfully and he chewed on the inside of his cheek, and for a moment, Beth was afraid she'd crossed a line. She was about to open her mouth and apologize, take back the question, assure him that they'd be fine sleeping separately and that, hopefully, Malachi would accept it with time.

But then he sighed and muttered quietly, "I jus'… miss her. All the fuckin' time. An' Mal… he's _lucky_. He don't remember her, he ain't gotta feel that pain."

When he paused and hesitated, Beth said softly, "But he still does. He might not remember her, but _you_ _do_. And he sees that. What kid wouldn't wanna know everything about their mom – the person that gave birth to them?"

Daryl furrowed his brow and chewed on his bottom lip, then said, "He was always too little ta understand, ta really know what I was tellin' 'im. But this last year, he's got all these questions, an' it gets harder an' harder ta distract him... I don't – I just don't wanna _talk_ about it. With him. I don't – I don't want him ta know what it feels like ta love somebody that can't _ever_ come back."

Beth swallowed past a growing knot in her throat, biting her tongue as she watched Daryl turn his face away from her so she couldn't see the way he was roughly swiping his hand across his eyes. He cleared his throat and scratched his stubbly cheek, still looking away from her.

"Ain't it just like we read in _Harry Potter_ , though?" She asked, smiling weakly and watching him as he turned and gave her a quizzical look. "Just the other day – you remember that part? ' _The ones we love never really leave us…_ '? You have so many memories that you can share with him, Daryl. She might seem like nothin' more than a story to 'im right now, but if you talk about her, answer all his questions… she'll be _real_. He just wants to know who she was."

He cleared his throat again and looked back down at the floor. His voice came out hoarse as he muttered, "But… I don't – I already miss her. So… _goddamn_ much… And what if – if we talk about 'er like that, he gets all his answers – what if he ends up missin' her, too? Jus' like I do?"

Beth wasn't sure why, but she felt herself smiling faintly as she scooted over and leaned against Daryl. Maybe it was seeing how much he really loved Lucy – even to this day. Maybe it was seeing the big wall he'd built slowly falling down before her, little piece by little piece. Or maybe it was just the fact that something in her knew exactly what he needed to hear right now.

He turned his head and finally looked at her, and she met his watery blue eyes. She tentatively reached out to wrap her arms around his middle and he allowed it, leaning into her just the slightest bit. He was still looking at her quizzically, waiting for an answer, or some advice, or support, or whatever it might be that she had to offer.

She let her small smile grow a little bigger, gazing back at him with reassurance. And she said softly, "Then maybe you'll both miss her. But you'll miss her _together_ … An' that's a whole lot better than keeping it all inside. Keepin' it to yourself."

He chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully for a long second, studying her face like he was trying to figure out if she was being genuine or not. Then he asked hesitantly, "You think so…?"

 _I know so,_ she thought to herself, thinking back to how she'd felt after losing Momma and Shawn.

She rested her chin on his shoulder and continued to gaze at him. "Yeah," she mumbled. "I do."

Daryl scratched his chin and looked away to stare off in contemplation. Beth could tell he was conflicted by the whole situation, and still debating with himself inside his head. She wanted to be more help, but she also knew there was only so much she could do in her position. However, he seemed to be giving her a chance to reach out to him – in a way that had only really happened a handful of times. And she found herself thinking of the overturned photo in his bedroom.

Hesitating at first, she lifted her chin from his shoulder and asked quietly, "You… feel guilty? About us?" Her voice came out barely louder than a whisper, but Daryl heard her clearly, and he quickly turned his head to look at her. She held her breath for a moment, anticipating his reaction.

He furrowed his brow, searching her face as he replied, "'Course not – why you say that? That what you think?"

Beth pressed her lips together tightly and shook her head, glancing away from his eyes. "No. Not really. But… you got that picture by your bed. An' it's been turned over ever since we…"

Her voice trailed off but she knew that she didn't need to finish. Realization crossed his face and he briefly looked like he might've been ashamed. She felt him tense up a bit. Then he mumbled, "I can't really… explain it. 'S just – been a lot t'process in a short amount a time. But I don't feel guilty about _us_. Or like I _regret_ ya or somethin'. It's… complicated."

Her stomach fluttered and she watched him pause and lick his lips, blue eyes going soft, then he added, "Don't feel guilty 'bout you – _never_ you. But… there's jus' other shit."

His sentence was vague, but Beth understood. She nodded and he wrapped his arm around her, leaning back and pulling her closer to him.

 _I guess we both got stuff we can't explain_ , she thought sadly.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** The songs Beth played in this chapter were "The Middle" by Jimmy Eat World (duh) and "It Had To Be You" by Motion City Soundtrack. The title for this chapter, and the next like ten or so chapters, comes from "Hold Me Down" by Motion City Soundtrack (listen to it, it makes me think of nothing but this fic UGH).  
I know I've been saying for a while now that we're getting close to the big reveal but I really, really mean it this time! Be sure to let me know you're reading/enjoying in the reviews! :)


	53. you're the emptiness the whole world sin

_**you're the emptiness the whole world sings at night**_

Beth and Daryl sat on the couch together, cuddling and whispering, occasionally laughing or playfully tickling each other, while Malachi napped. To her pleasant surprise, Beth's advice had seemed to help lift Daryl's spirits, at least for the most part. They didn't talk much more about it, but it felt like they'd exchanged just as many unspoken words and gestures during their conversation.

Even though, despite their closeness and smiles, there were other thoughts bubbling up to the surface of Beth's mind as she lingered on what Daryl had said, and _how_ he'd said it. Despite her efforts _not_ to linger on it. Why had she been the one to tell him it was okay to miss his child's dead mother? And why was she only now realizing how much he actually missed her – so much that he'd said it _twice_? Beth tried to push these thoughts back for now, but they refused to be silenced, lingering unspoken while she sat with Daryl and breathed in his scent. For a moment, she wondered if she should be treasuring the moment more – maybe it wouldn't last… Maybe he wasn't really intending on being there for the "long run" after all.

No matter how much Beth tried to reassure herself that she was being paranoid, or insecure, she couldn't stop herself from beginning to question whether Daryl was really feeling the same thing she was. Maybe he was just letting her fill a space that had been sitting open for too long, and eventually, she'd just fall out, or he'd push her out. She had to scold herself once she started to wonder if Daryl's ex-girlfriend's corpse had been lying between them this whole time. She found it difficult not to imagine that the wall she'd thought was beginning to break down had really just been a deep-seeded, lost love that had never been resolved. Maybe he'd kept it inside for so long because he knew he was incapable of loving someone else again, or opening up to them like that.

She knew she had no room to wonder about Lucy, about the overturned photo, about all the guilt and whatever _else_ that he clearly still felt – not when she was still keeping so much from him. But she couldn't help it. That tinge of jealousy and uncertainty was quickly blooming into an insecurity. If ever there'd been a time when she was wondering if she should be getting _this_ involved with someone, it was now. She knew there was a lot at risk for both of them, in several ways.

But it wasn't like she didn't get it. _Her_ ex was dead, too. Except that she didn't miss him – not who he'd become, anyway. And not actively. She missed him like he was a distant memory, thinking about the sweet Jimmy she'd known for so many years. But not _every day_. What if Daryl wasn't actually opening up to her? What if she was nothing more than a distraction, and once she was gone, he'd set the photo back up next to his bed and return to loving his darling, departed Lucy? What if he never stopped loving her, and never would? Beth had thought that the lack of photos, his refusal to talk about her, and the small outbursts had just been symptoms of survivor's guilt. But now it felt more like regret, like maybe he only said she "left" them because that's what it felt like to him. And maybe he only _said_ he didn't feel guilty about Beth because he knew there was no way to explain his way out of that kind of truth.

What if Beth really was pushing her way into a place that had no room for her?

When Mal awoke from his nap, he was in a much better mood, and Daryl suggested that they leave things be for now and attempt to talk to him again later, maybe with a lighter approach. Beth agreed, though she mostly dreaded seeing the look that had been on the toddler's face again. It brought the rest of her guilt bubbling rapidly up to the surface, and now she was fighting back that old, nagging thought that kept telling her she was in way over her head, that she was intruding on a family where she didn't belong. How was she supposed to worry about helping Daryl and Mal find closure when she was focused on evading the police? How could she justify her stupid little insecurities when there was so much more at stake?

But then Daryl brought up their plans to go to the park, asking Beth if she still wanted to go before proposing the idea to Mal. Of course, the toddler was quick to say yes, and the excitement on his face helped Beth to forget about the pang of guilt that was almost constantly throbbing somewhere deep in her gut, and getting worse every day. She hoped that the fresh air would help to clear her head – _and_ Daryl's.

They all put on shoes before leaving the apartment, with Beth putting on sunglasses and Daryl wearing his winged vest, as always. Though she opted not to wear her hat, and they all opted to go without jackets – or sleeves, in Daryl's case – as the day was particularly warm and the humidity wasn't letting up anytime soon. Then they locked up behind them and set off for a nearby park in the warm, late September weather, the sun steadily travelling across the clear, blue sky as the afternoon prepared to fade into evening.

While they walked down the sidewalk together at a leisurely pace, Mal holding his dad's hand and happily chatting away and pointing at things he saw, Beth gazed around when she wasn't watching the boys with admiration. Once again, she caught herself wondering if she should be cherishing these moments more than usual, for fear of how many more were to come.

A couple blocks down, they passed a small church, and she thought about home – or _Georgia_. She thought about how she should've been in church today, but instead, she'd spent the morning lying in bed with a man much older than her who didn't even know her real name. And then she wondered to herself if, at the end of the day, forgiveness from Daryl was even the forgiveness she should really be worried about.

Though the silent, inexplicable vibration humming over the city felt exactly like that of a normal Sunday afternoon, everything still felt a little off to Beth. And she knew it was because her routine was so completely thrown off, and everything she knew as normal had been turned upside-down. She couldn't help but think about how, though the internal feeling of the day was the same here, the sensations were anything but. Instead of freshly mown grass, dirt, horse feed, animal fur, and all the flowers in her momma's garden, she was smelling fifteen different kinds of food being cooked in the vicinity, as well as car exhaust, a whiff of old sewage, the stench of nearby garbage, and another smell that she couldn't quite identify, but that she'd been smelling around the city since she'd arrived (smog, maybe?).

Then she thought about how, despite all these unpleasant smells that came with the city-living, she still didn't have to walk around and smell that overwhelming, inescapable stench of pure _shit_. The one that had lingered around half the farm; the one that had been Beth's cue to turn around and walk far away from the area…

 _Brainwashedbrainwashedbrainwashed_.

She had tried to distract herself with listening to Mal's excited chatter, or making light conversation with Daryl here and there. But eventually, she fell into an observant silence as she watched the world continue to move around her as she struggled to pull herself away from lingering on the past or sinking back into toxic trains of thought. Thankfully, they were approaching the park, and she felt Daryl grabbing her hand and squeezing it, pulling her out of her own head. She looked over at him and smiled, and the concern on his face faded away as he half-smiled back. She realized she must've looked spaced-out or deeply contemplative, and she squeezed Daryl's hand back to silently assure him she was fine. Then she was watching Mal begin to point and run ahead, tugging on his dad's hand excitedly, and she laughed as they all sped up their pace to walk through the large archway.

The park they'd come to was smaller than the one they'd visited with Carol and Tobin, and closer to the apartment. Following a winding sidewalk path between large areas of lush, green grass, they found their way to a playground area filled with other kids, mostly school-aged. There were only a handful of small children grouped together in one spot, playing on some of the equipment designed for toddlers, and they were closely surrounded by a group of supervising parents. Daryl and Beth hung back a few feet and watched as Mal approached a couple of toddlers and started playing with them, his face lighting up as he quickly made new friends.

Beth glanced over and saw the proud smile on Daryl's face, and the thoughtful look in his eyes, and she hesitated a moment before asking, "You still thinkin' about the daycare thing?"

He looked over at her and nodded. "Yeah, think I found a place. Still pretty expensive, though."

She shrugged lightly and said, "Well, my offer's still on the table, ya know."

"Yeah, I know – a _loan_ ," he muttered, turning his head back to watch Mal again.

She suppressed a smile, still gazing over at him. "Maybe daycare will help him adjust to some _other_ kinds of change, too. Or, ya know, it could be a step in the right direction."

Daryl narrowed his eyes briefly as he gazed out at his son and seemed to think on her words, then nodded and looked over at her. "Kinda what I was thinkin', too."

With a smile pulling the corners of her mouth upward, Beth reached over and casually took his hand in hers. He intertwined their fingers together and squeezed her hand, then gently pulled her over until she was standing close enough that their arms were touching.

They stood around with the other parents and watched Mal play, pointing out kids here and there and making funny comments or observations. They both marveled at the way Mal could instantly make friends, and laughed when they saw him picking up a bug and eagerly showing it to the other kids. Beth stole glances of the mothers standing around nearby, then watched Daryl from the corner of her eye for a few long moments. She squeezed his hand lightly, wondering if he was missing Lucy in this moment. He turned his head to meet her gaze and gave her a reassuring smile, even though he had no idea how tight her stomach was beginning to feel. She smiled back weakly, silently scolding herself for being so selfish.

After a while of playing with the other toddlers, Mal rushed back over to Beth and Daryl and asked them to play Tag with him, like they had before. Beth and Daryl happily agreed and they spent a long time chasing each other around the park, accidentally bumping into other people once or twice. While they were taking a breather, Mal spotted a dog in the distance being walked by its owner, and he pointed it out excitedly, asking Daryl if he could go pet it.

"No, son, you're allergic – remember?" Daryl told him, and Beth could see the flicker of disappointment in Daryl's eyes.

Mal's face fell and he said, "Oh. Yeah."

Beth was about to step in and propose they start up their game again to distract him, but Daryl was quicker. He grabbed the toddler beneath his arms and lifted him up.

"How 'bout we play Godzilla?" Daryl suggested, hoisting Malachi up and sitting him atop his shoulders.

Mal was grinning again and laughed. "Can Rosie be the city?!"

Beth watched with curiosity and met Daryl's gaze when he turned to her, smiling. "I dunno – you wanna be the city fer Godzilla, Rosie?"

She smiled and nodded. "Sure – wait, _how_ do we play exactly…?"

Daryl chuckled and walked in slow circles with the toddler on his shoulders. "Mal's Godzilla – I'm jus' the body, he does all the wreckin'. An' yer the city. You seen Godzilla before, right?"

She laughed and nodded, a foggy memory briefly floating to the surface of her mind: her daddy in the living room, sitting in front of the TV and watching an old, black-and-white movie of a giant lizard monster destroying a city. She could still remember the scene where the monster emerged from the ocean. Her daddy would sit in his chair and watch with a little smile on his face, blue eyes sparkling while he sipped from the glass of sweet tea or the mug of hot cocoa that her momma had made for him. And Beth would sit on the carpet in front of him, eyes glued to the screen while she watched with fascination. Shawn and Maggie had never liked to watch black-and-white films with Daddy – they thought they were boring. But Beth adored them, and even more so, she adored sitting with her daddy, just the two of them.

"'Course I have," she replied, still smiling.

And then Mal was making loud, roaring noises and waving his hands around wildly while Daryl stumbled around and playfully chased Beth in the grass. She quickly grew breathless from laughing and running around at the same time, and Daryl was breaking a sweat of his own. But they played for a long time, even though it only felt like a few minutes to Beth. She didn't realize how much time had passed until she started looking around and noticing all the people gradually filtering out of the park, and the sun drifting closer and closer to the horizon above them.

They finished their game of Godzilla, followed by another game of Tag and then a brief game of Hide 'N Seek in the nearby trees. Then they were all growing tired and winded, the looks on their faces reflective of their equal desires to go home. Mal declared that he was hungry and Daryl pulled out a banana that he'd brought along for that exact reason from a pocket in his vest, assuring his son that they would be having supper in just a couple of short hours.

There was a small pond a short walk away, though, and Daryl suggested they go take a rest and try to see some ducks before making the walk back home. Mal happily agreed, and Beth found herself holding Daryl's hand while he carried the toddler on his shoulders once more. They walked down the winding sidewalk path together with smiles on their faces, Beth's sunglasses over her eyes as she watched the boys with a sly smile and held loosely onto Daryl's hand.

 _How could I ever leave this?_ She thought to herself. _Whether I should have gotten here or not, here I am. And I can't walk away now._

They reached the pond and Daryl and Beth took seats on a small, wooden bench while Mal rushed off to check the muddy bank for frogs and worms. As they'd hoped, there was a small group of ducks floating on the top of the water, quacking to another lone duck that was standing on the other side of the pond. Mal pointed them out excitedly and they floated farther away from him, but he didn't seem to care as he watched them with a huge grin and wide, entranced eyes.

Daryl chuckled to himself, gazing at the toddler with a content half-smile on his face. Beth watched Mal running along the edge of the pond, stopping every couple of feet and bending down to inspect the ground and the shallow water within reach. The ducks quacked again and she looked over to see a new duck had joined the party in the pond, approaching from the opposite side and entering the water with four little ducklings trailing closely behind it.

She smiled to herself as she watched the babies follow their mother into the water, floating effortlessly and never leaving one another's side. Then she felt Daryl's warm hand reaching over and squeezing her leg, and she glanced over to see that he was gazing out at the water, too, that content smile still absent-mindedly resting on his lips.

"Wish I'd brought somethin' for him ta feed the ducks with," Daryl mumbled quietly.

Still looking out at the water, Beth chuckled softly and replied, "Me, too."

Mal's excited laughter joined the quacking of the ducks around them, and for a moment, Beth thought she might never leave this exact spot. Knowing she had to, though, she quickly took a mental picture and tried to commit every detail to her memory – this was a moment she'd want to remember and relive for a long time, after all.

* * *

When they got back home, it was time for dinner. The sun was setting outside and the breeze was growing chillier, and there was muffled talking and laughter coming from behind the closed door of Carol's apartment. Daryl's apartment was dark and quiet, though that quickly changed as they entered and turned on the lights, taking off their shoes and chatting excitedly about the park. Beth opened up the living room window to let in the evening breeze, as she always did, while Mal leapt to his toy box as soon as his shoes were off. Daryl took off his boots and vest, then went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Want me t'make dinner while you guys get cleaned up?" Beth proposed, walking over and joining him in the kitchen.

Daryl nodded, swallowing his swig of water. "Sure, what'd you – "

But he was interrupted by Mal entering the kitchen and tugging on his pant leg. "Dad, can I have another 'nana?"

Daryl paused and looked down at his son. "No, Mal, we're about ta have supper. It'll be ready soon as we get washed up."

"But I'm _hungwy-y_!" Mal whined, tears brimming his eyes. "Now!"

Daryl furrowed his brow, confused by the toddler's uncommon mood swing, and raised his voice just a little, speaking firmly. "I said _no_ , Malachi. Don' t whine, that don't get you anything 'round here. You know that."

But Mal whined again, furiously spinning around and stomping out of the kitchen with his tiny arms crossed over his chest in defiance.

Beth and Daryl exchanged quizzical looks, and she couldn't help but immediately wonder if Mal's outburst had anything to do with their discussion earlier. Was it confusing the kid to act like a family together at the park while telling him that she _wasn't_ his "new mom"? She could definitely see how that was possible, and it only made her feel more guilty for causing such a disruption in the boys' lives. Once again, that nagging, inner voice was telling her that she was filling a spot that wasn't fit for her.

"He's just hungry," Daryl assured her, as if he were reading her mind. He watched the toddler playing in the living room and she could see in his eyes that those were only words – he was concerned by this behavior, too. He was probably having the same thought process as her.

"You sure about that?" She asked softly.

He blinked and scratched his chin, then shrugged and met her gaze. "I'll try t'talk to him while we're gettin' cleaned up. Don't worry about it – let's jus' get some food in us."

Beth swallowed back any disagreements and nodded, then put on a small smile of reassurance. Daryl leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips, and reflexively, she relaxed into him. Then her smile became a bit more genuine and she watched him leave the kitchen and take Mal down the hall.

She went about preparing dinner, trying not to linger on what kind of rifts she might be causing. She could hear the muffled sounds of Daryl's and Mal's voices, occasionally interspersed with their laughter, which was relieving to hear. While she waited for the noodles to boil, she grabbed up her phone and checked the news sites. But there were no updates that concerned her, which left her dwelling on the conflicts with Daryl and Mal. There was a part of her, growing bigger every day, that was highly anticipating Jenny Jones' next article. There was also a part of her that had a strong, indescribable feeling telling her that more was coming – much more – and soon. Though she couldn't explain it, not even to herself. It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop, but she had no idea what the shoe would look like or just how large it would be.

Dinner was almost done by the time the boys emerged from the hall and joined Beth in the kitchen. Daryl helped her finish after he helped Mal set the table, and they all sat down together to eat and chat happily. Mal's mood seemed to have improved vastly, and he ate his dinner without any complaint or objection, much to Beth's surprise.

She was still cautious of how his feelings could be changing toward her, though, so she mostly sat and listened, commenting quietly. But then she grew more comfortable, and things felt normal again as they all laughed together and smiled. And when Daryl brought up their camping trip, Mal bounced excitedly in his seat and grinned, then asked "Rosie" if she was coming and if she had ever been camping before. Her heart did a tiny leap and she nodded, sharing in the boys' excitement for the upcoming trip. She listened with a smile as Mal talked about all the things he wanted to do with "Uncle 'Wight" and "Aunt Sherry." Her smile grew bigger when he expressed even more excitement for "Rosie" being in the same place as Dwight and Sherry.

They finished dinner and cleaned up together, all of them visibly worn out from their exercise at the park. When Daryl suggested they watch a Marvel movie and head off to bed, Mal didn't object, and neither did Beth. They shut off the lights and sat down in the living room, sprawled out on the couch. Halfway through the movie, Beth got them each a small bowl of ice cream. And after the bowls were empty and sitting on the coffee table, she was resting her head on Daryl's shoulder while Mal was lying on his other side, struggling to stay awake until the very end of _Iron Man 3_.

Daryl wound up carrying Mal to bed after the movie ended, rejoining Beth on the couch just a couple of minutes later. The toddler had been out cold, and he hadn't woken up long enough to need a bedtime story, let alone anything more than Daryl tucking him in and double-checking that the nightlight was on. Beth smiled contentedly as she cuddled up with Daryl on the couch, leaving the living room dark except for the glow of the TV.

They watched a rerun of that zombie show that happened to be playing, Daryl's arms wrapped around Beth while they both relaxed into the cushions of the couch. The evening breeze drifting in through the open window had the faint scent of seawater mixed with ethnic food, and the sleepy noises of the city's Sunday night played like quiet white noise behind the voices and sound effects coming from the TV. Beth felt the most comfortable she'd been all day, and the large knot of guilt in her stomach was untangling. Though her mind still raced, it was quieter than before.

They'd sat in silence for the duration of the episode, simply enjoying one another's warmth and companionship. Then the episode ended and Beth turned her head, which was lying on Daryl's arm, to gaze up at him. His head was rested against the arm of the couch and his eyelids hung heavy, but he felt her looking at him and met her eyes without moving his head.

"I had a lotta fun today," she said softly, unable to hold back a small smile. "I think it was a good day... Y'know, despite whatever else."

Daryl smirked and mumbled, "Yeah. Me, too."

"It was sure an eventful weekend for Mal," she said.

"Yeah, no kiddin'. Really wore 'im out."

Beth paused and bit her lip briefly, still thinking back on earlier and all her internal conflicts. She'd wanted to apologize to them _both_ , in a way, for stepping in and disturbing their calm lives. But she wasn't sure it was right. Now, however, in the dim living room, lying close with Daryl, she wanted nothing more than to apologize. For _all_ of it. But she stopped herself before her mind was convincing her to take it too far.

"I'm… I really am sorry for all the – like, the _problems_ I'm causing," she said, voice soft and tentative. Her eyes flicked downward, away from his, as she went on, "Between Carol an' now Mal, I – well, I thought Mal liked me – I mean, I _know_ he does, but I guess I didn't think about how he might feel if – "

But Daryl stopped her, speaking quietly as well, his voice low and rumbling, "Stop that. Ain't nothin' to apologize for, Carol just don't know when ta keep her nose out, an' Mal – he's jus' a kid. He don't understand. An' it's mostly my fault anyways, there's a lotta stuff I been puttin' off 'cause I didn't think I'd have ta deal with 'em... But that's not on you."

She swallowed past a small knot that was threatening to form in her throat and blinked back guilty tears, thankful that she was lying down and they were easier to hold back. "It's a _lot_ , though, Daryl. In a short amount of time... I wouldn't understand it either, if I was him. It's all happened so fast."

Daryl furrowed his brow and she could feel him looking down at her more intensely, studying her as she continued to gaze down at his T-shirt instead of meeting his eyes. He was silent for a moment, then he rumbled, "Sounds like you got a bigger problem with it'an he does… If this is goin' too fast, why didn't you say somethin'? We don't have ta – "

She quickly flicked her eyes back up to meet his gaze and cut him off, "That's _not_ what I mean, Daryl, you know that. I just – I can't help but feel like I'm… way in over my head. I'm tryin' my best, I really am, but I never meant to _intrude_."

He frowned down at her and grunted. "Then what _do_ you mean? Yer not – _intruding_. That's jus' stupid."

Beth didn't hesitate to finally vocalize the insecurity that had grown within her over the last several hours, though she spoke quietly. "You say that, but then you also say that you miss your dead ex every single _day_." Once it came out, though, she quickly realized that she could've worded it differently.

Daryl blinked and his face became incredulous. His lips pressed together tightly and he didn't look away from her, but he didn't say anything either.

Her heart was sinking into her stomach and she was trying not to say anything she would regret, but the look on his face was only fueling her need for a definitive answer. "I know it's normal, but – how am I supposed t'live up to somebody that you can't even talk about? I remember when you told me you didn't need her, that it jus' gets lonely… Is that all I am? A placeholder because you've been lonely so long?"

His expression changed to slightly angered, and he replied, "Don't be ridiculous, I told you already. Every way I know how. If that was the case, this – we wouldn't _be_ here right now. I thought you understood – since you jus' lost yer momma. Thought you wasn't gonna be insecure. Lucy's dead, she ain't no _competition_ ta you."

Beth stared back at him defiantly, ignoring his mention of her mother, and replied, "Exactly – she _is_ dead. So why do I still feel like I'm competing with a ghost? Somebody you can't _ever_ stop loving? I'm here with you now, I'm – _falling_ for you, Daryl. Are you here with me, or are you wishing it was _her_ hand you were holding instead a mine?"

She watched the anger on his face fade into guilt. His eyes drifted away from her, staring off blankly as he chewed his bottom lip. She could see him fighting the urge to shut down and walk away. Then he spoke tentatively, "Ain't like that… Said I missed 'er 'cause I do, but – that don't mean I still _love_ her. Doesn't mean I think about 'er or wish she was here instead a you… I'd _never_ think that."

Beth swallowed painfully, picking up on the remorse in his last sentence. She continued to stare at him, softening her gaze, and her words came out more tentatively. "I know you said you don't feel guilty about us, but… it feels an awful lot like you do. An' I know there's stuff you're not ready t'talk about, but I can't be here, gettin' so attached to you and to Mal…"

Her voice trailed off. He cleared his throat and met her eyes again, mumbling, "It's not _about_ me… Yeah, I got a lotta shit I don't like ta talk about. But I'm – _here_. With _you_. I ain't goin' nowhere, an' I ain't somewhere else in my head. The way I miss her isn't… it's not like I want her _back_. She left us. Betrayed us. I jus' wanna protect Mal. And Lucy did somethin' that I can't _ever_ protect him from. She left this… _emptiness_ … An' maybe I could explain it ta myself, but I dunno know to explain it ta my _kid_. To the kid she left behind."

His eyes were searching hers, pleading silently. Begging her to understand. Beth felt a stab of guilt in her chest and realized she was chewing on her bottom lip. She released it and said softly, "You can't protect him from _everything_ , though..." Part of her wanted to ask why he felt that Lucy "betrayed" them, but she didn't quite have the courage to do so right now.

Daryl sighed and glanced away for a second. "I know. But… the picture an' all the stuff around the apartment, it's all just shit I been puttin' off. And it's ended up hauntin' me… Now I got somethin' good with you, Mal sees me with a good woman – it's new territory fer _both_ of us. You said yer tryin' your best – well, so am I. But you gotta be patient with me. We're _both_ in over our heads…"

She gazed back at him with a look of concern.

He quickly added, in a slightly lighter tone, "Ain't so bad, though."

A reluctant smile pulled at one corner of Beth's mouth and she glanced away from him briefly, chewing the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. She was starting to feel guilty again for being so paranoid, so insecure. But she'd _needed_ to hear these things from his own mouth, in all honesty. Otherwise, it would've become another molehill in her mind that eventually grew into a mountain of self-doubt and petty jealousy – or worse, resentment.

Daryl closed his eyes and let out a long breath through his nose. After a few moments of silence, during which they both seemed to be slowly relaxing back into each other, he muttered, "I talked ta Mal a little in the bath… Y'know, he thinks the sun shines outta yer ass. He's jus' got – a lotta questions that I wasn't really prepared for."

She suppressed a giggle but allowed a small smile to form on her lips as she watched him lying next to her with his eyelids resting shut. She asked quietly, "You think he wants us t'be together?"

She saw a smirk tugging at the corner of Daryl's mouth as he replied, "I _know_ he does. But it's, uh – it's my own fault that he don't know the difference. He only knows what he's been told, an' it ain't much. So I gotta tell 'im about her. About his mom. An' I gotta, I dunno… prob'ly show 'im the pictures an' stuff. Maybe we could all sit down together, try ta work it out. Explain what it means now that me an' you are… together."

Beth pursed her lips, listening and watching the stress lines make themselves evident in the shadows of his face. She let his words settle between them, and when he didn't say anything else, she whispered, "I think… he'd really like that."

Daryl opened his eyes and gazed down at her again, his face gradually relaxing. "He would. But what about you?"

She nodded, smiling weakly at him. "I would, too." Then he looked even more relieved.

Whatever light layer of tension had momentarily been between them seemed to dissipate, and once it did, Beth said, "Maybe you could gather all the stuff together, make a memorial for her, or like – somethin' that you can keep until he grows up an' moves out to take it with him," she suggested softly.

The idea wasn't her own – it was what her family had done with her momma's and brother's things, for the most part. Besides the heirlooms that had gone into her daddy's safe, they'd bought two handmade cedar chests from a family friend and stored away all of Shawn's and Annette's most prized, or familiar, possessions in each one. Then they'd tucked them away safely in Shawn's old bedroom, where they could be visited at any time. Beth had spent many hours in that bedroom, sitting on Shawn's old bed and crying into one of her momma's favorite shirts because it still smelled like her. There had even been a week where she'd snuck Shawn's class ring from the cedar chest and slept with it on her finger because he kept appearing in her dreams. He stopped showing up, covered in blood, after the fourth night, but it wasn't until the eighth night that he stopped showing up altogether. And only then did she place the ring back in its safe place inside the cedar chest.

Her heart ached at the thought of what might've become of those chests after the police raided the farmhouse, but she tried to push that thought away just as quickly as it had come.

Daryl sat and thought on her words for a couple minutes, then he grunted and said, "Not a bad idea, actually… Might be somethin' good fer both of us."

She smirked and watched him gazing at the TV, lost in his own head with heavy eyelids threatening to fall shut as he got sleepier and sleepier. He wasn't looking at her, but she leaned up and pressed her lips to his softly, lingering for a few seconds before pulling back and studying his reaction. He was looking at her when she opened her eyes, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He glanced at her lips, then leaned down and kissed her again. She giggled against his mouth and reached a hand up to gently grasp the back of his neck. His hand had been resting on her hip and he gave it a squeeze.

Their kiss deepened until Beth was pulling back to take in a proper breath and opening her eyes to see Daryl inches away, lips still parted and breathing heavier than normal. He grunted and stole another kiss, then closed his eyes again and let his head lie down to rest against the arm of the couch.

She thought he might be about to pull her close and fall asleep, but then she felt him squeeze her hip again and he opened his eyes to meet her unfocused gaze. He smirked mischievously and she furrowed her brow in question, about to ask him what he was smiling about. Then he mumbled, "So… yer _fallin'_ for me, huh?"

She felt the heat immediately rising to her neck and cheeks and she smiled sheepishly, closing her eyes for a moment to avoid meeting Daryl's gaze. "That's what I said, isn't it?"

He chuckled and she opened her eyes to see that he was watching her with a tired but wistful expression. Then he smirked again and mumbled, "Yeah – ya mean it?"

"Why wouldn't I?" She giggled softly.

He grumbled a barely coherent, "I'ono." But he still had that wistful look in his eyes as he watched her, and she felt the heat returning to her face.

Beth was about to ask him if she was stupid for saying that part aloud, admitting that she was falling for him (even though it was probably pretty obvious anyway). But she decided against it and pursed her lips instead, afraid of sounding like an insecure little girl if she asked for any more reassurance tonight.

Daryl was gazing at her with a more thoughtful expression, and he seemed to notice that she'd decided against saying something. After a long moment with no sounds other than their breathing and the quiet TV, he spoke in a deep, husky voice. "I know it don't matter what I tell ya, 'cause yer stubborn as hell an' you're gonna convince yerself that yer somehow _intruding_. But I promise, I'm here with _you_ , an' yer not a placeholder – yer my girl… Sorry I got so much bullshit that comes along with bein' with me. But I swear I'm workin' on it."

Beth smiled to herself and leaned in to silently plant a soft kiss on his lips.

When she pulled away, he continued, "Might not believe me, but yer the only woman I've been able ta think about fer the past three weeks. Even when I… went on that date with that Ally chick – you 'member that?"

Beth nodded, her smile growing larger as she watched Daryl closely while he sleepily drawled. His eyes drifted over to gaze tiredly past her.

He licked his lips and sighed softly, then continued, "Even then, I was thinkin' about _you_ the whole time. Didn't mean to, wasn't tryin' to. I felt horrible about it, I really did try ta give the girl a chance… But then she jus' kept bitchin' an' – and _pushing_ me. And… well, all I wanted t'do was come home an' sit on the couch. With you."

She watched him press his lips tightly together and let out a quiet sigh through his nose. Then his eyes drifted back over to hers expectantly, as if he were anticipating her disgust or disappointment. She smiled coyly at him.

She remembered what Sherry had said in the bathroom of the bar, and how Beth knew she'd been right all along: someone like Daryl didn't want to be helped or changed or coddled, he just wanted to be _heard_. He wanted someone to be there, where he was, with him. Beth hadn't been trying to win him over or get to know him, but she had enjoyed the feeling of another person being there with her, too, in all honesty. And maybe, at the end of the day, it was that silent connection, that shared, unspoken need that had created a tiny string between them. A string that had become shorter and shorter every day, until they found themselves drawn to each other and unable to pull away.

"I'm a real dick," he mumbled, and she furrowed her brow as she recognized the guilt settling in his sleepy eyes.

Her smile faded and she scoffed. "No, you're not... We didn't – you didn't do anything _wrong_. You're a good man, Daryl Dixon... A _really_ good man. An' if we're bein' honest… I couldn't stop thinkin' about you either."

His eyes flicked downward bashfully, away from hers, and in the dim glow of the TV, she could see his cheeks turning a bit pink. He sighed heavily, like it was uncomfortable to hear what she'd said. But then the ghost of a smile crossed his lips and he mumbled, "Maybe that's what made me like ya so much – when ya tell me how it is. Whether I wanna hear it or not."

Beth giggled softly and Daryl met her gaze again, returning her smile. She said, "If _that's_ what you like, then you could've just dated Carol. Or Rosita. Or – "

He cut her off by pressing his lips to her, still smiling. When he pulled away, he shook his head and rumbled, "Nah. There's somethin' about you, woman… Can't quite put my finger on it, but it's _somethin'_."

Her heart leapt and she pressed her body closer against his, leaning forward to place a few soft kisses along his stubbly jaw. _You have no idea,_ she thought remorsefully. She kissed a trail up to his earlobe, her lips parted and a dangerous combination of words teetering on the tip of her tongue.

Then she felt him groan quietly in his throat and she quickly swallowed back the words she wanted, so badly, to whisper into his ear.

 _Not right now,_ she told herself. _Not here. Not yet._

* * *

 _It had been four days since Beth's high school graduation, and she was feeling more unsure of her future than ever. There was no foreseeable plan at the moment, except the plans she'd gotten swallowed up in: getting Det. Lerner and her goons to lay off, and finding Randall's accomplice. Her daddy's plans. And Maggie's. The cops still hadn't let up when it came to lurking around and pestering the Greene's for more information on the murders – and whatever else they were suspicious of. And every day, the temperature got higher, the humidity got thicker, and the tension spread itself out across the whole farm._

 _Hershel and Maggie had kept Beth busy, for the most part, since school had let out. Otis and Arnold were asking for her help more often, too, and even Patricia was finding chores for her. Though it kept her hands and mind occupied, Beth had noticed that all her chores kept her indoors for the majority of the day. Most importantly, they kept her out of the police's sight. She wasn't oblivious, she was well aware of what was going on. But she wasn't going to argue because every time the cops tried to corner her or ask her questions, her heart would start racing and her lungs would suddenly feel tight. So she wasn't going to complain about remaining low-key for the summer._

 _She tried to enjoy her small escapes with Jimmy, but something about him was beginning to seem different – in a way that she didn't like. The last few times they'd hung out, she'd been relieved to get home and be away from him. She felt guilty about it, but it was just another thing she wanted to keep off her mind. And the chores helped with that._

 _It was a Wednesday, and Beth had been done with her daily chores for about an hour. She'd snuck away to her bedroom before Maggie or her daddy had seen her wandering around with nothing to do, and had been lying in bed with a book, enjoying the peace inside the farmhouse. She was also trying to enjoy her last bit of alone time before they had to leave for church, as they did most Wednesday evenings._

 _When she set her book down and went downstairs to the kitchen, she'd only wanted a glass of water. She hadn't intended to hear whatever Hershel and Otis were talking about. But once she recognized their voices and the ominous tones present, she'd found it too difficult to walk away._

 _Randall's terrified face was still fresh in her mind. Even though the bloodstain on the barn floor had been scrubbed and hidden away, Beth could still clearly remember that day. Just like she could clearly remember how the Beretta felt in her hand, and how it felt to squeeze the trigger. And it had become her duty to prepare herself, so it only made sense to find out as much as she could, right? It would be nonsensical for her to walk away when she could so clearly hear a very important conversation going on, and Maggie wasn't there to tell her whether she should be listening or not. But she'd_ _ **have**_ _to know eventually anyway… right?_

 _Whatever conclusion Beth came to didn't matter because she wasn't moving. She stood completely still in front of the sink, empty glass grasped in her hand while the other hand rested on the faucet handle. At first, she hadn't really noticed that it was Otis and her daddy. In fact, she'd intended on walking over and pushing the backdoor all the way shut before she headed back upstairs – it was sitting barely open, a tiny crack between the door and the frame. Someone had weakly pulled it shut in a hurry._

 _But then their voices became clear, drifting into the silent kitchen from the back porch. They were standing just outside the backdoor, and she could see their shadows moving about as they stood before each other, moving their hands and shifting their weight from foot to foot as they talked. They couldn't see her and she couldn't see them, but she could hear them, and if she wanted them to, they could hear her, too._

 _Beth's ears perked up when she heard Otis's voice say, "But Hershel, we_ _ **found**_ _him. Let the cops have the other one – we can't get too greedy. It's pushin' our luck ta go this far, man."_

 _Her heart immediately sped up because Otis's tone made it sound like a conversation that should be taking place behind the closed door of her daddy's study, and maybe with Maggie and Glenn present to state their opinions._

 _But Hershel's voice was much calmer and steadier. He sounded like he could be talking about the weather when he said, "Otis, you an' I_ _ **both**_ _know that the police aren't gonna do shit to get justice for Annette and Shawn. You expect me ta sit back, watch them take that man into custody, and hope for the best?"_

" _Maybe not," Otis said. "But we can't – we don't have the_ _ **resources**_ _for this, is all I'm sayin '."_

 _Beth had noticed how much calmer her daddy had been in the last two weeks, since she'd watched him cut off Randall's hand in the barn. She still wasn't sure what had come of Randall, but she didn't_ _ **want**_ _to know. He was gone and that was all that mattered. Now his accomplice was the new focus, but Hershel was more calculated and confident this time. Either that, or he was far more frantic than he wanted anyone to know, and had finally perfected the art of masking it with self-assurance in order to resume his place as the level-headed backbone of the farm and church. Beth was beginning to think that finding Randall and avenging her momma had been like a baptism of sorts for her daddy, rebirthing him under a new light. But she tried not to think about it – they'd_ _ **all**_ _been at their lowest for nearly two months. And finally, things felt like they were beginning to look up._

 _Looking back, Beth realized it was more like the euphoric sensation that drowning victims experience before succumbing to death._

 _Her daddy's voice was still calm and nonchalant as he explained, "I already told you not ta_ _ **worry**_ _about the resources, let_ _ **me**_ _worry about that. We know who this guy is, we know everything we need t'know, you just focus on usin' it ta track him down. I'll take care a the rest."_

 _Otis sighed heavily. His tone was growing more frustrated. "Hershel, don't you think we got bigger problems than trackin' down another one a The Governor's men? It's only gonna bring us more trouble – you got enough ta worry 'bout as it is. I think Jimmy's got himself a new habit, an' between yer daughters – "_

 _Hershel's voice grew deeper and cut Otis off. "_ _ **Don't**_ _talk about my daughters to me right now, Otis. As far as Jimmy's concerned, I got my eye on 'im. Always have. This is bigger than you_ _ **or**_ _me, an' it ain't gonna do anybody any favors if we back down now. I'm not lettin' that man intimidate me."_

 _Beth felt her hands beginning to tremble and she quickly stilled them, setting her empty glass down silently and continuing to listen._

" _He's not just another man, though – he's_ _ **powerful**_ _," Otis insisted. "We shoulda never tried ta keep his clients, Hershel, we underestimated everythin' this guy's capable of!"_

 _Hershel hissed a "shh!" at the other man, then said, "Are we having this conversation again? If that's the case, then we need to take this t'my study – "_

" _No," Otis interrupted, voice lowered. "No, we're_ _ **not**_ _havin' that conversation again. I'm_ _ **telling**_ _you, plain and simple: this will_ _ **not**_ _end well for us, Hershel. We will_ _ **not**_ _win against The Governor. You got a white flag in there somewhere, an' I think it's about time we think about wavin' it. Before the cops close in any farther, before anybody else has ta die, or-or_ _ **disappear**_ _."_

 _Beth could hear her daddy clenching his jaw as he talked. "That's not a_ _ **choice**_ _anymore, Otis. It never was. He's just another_ _ **man**_ _, no matter how powerful. He can be stopped."_

 _Otis's voice was on the verge of frantic. "Not by_ _ **you**_ _!"_

 _There was a sound, like Hershel had stepped firmly forward on the wooden porch. Then he said, "I_ _ **refuse**_ _to let Annette and Shawn die in vain. He wants war, he's_ _ **got**_ _it. Even the most well-trained dog will bite if you back it into a corner long enough – and that's_ _ **exactly**_ _what The Governor doesn't understand. I'm not fighting this alone, and neither are you."_

 _Otis was quick to respond. "'Cept I didn't sign up for this fight. Neither did Patricia – hell, neither did_ _ **half**_ _the people you got involved in this. You ain't thinkin' about us anymore, this is way past anything we_ _ **gotta**_ _do, this is all about what you_ _ **want**_ _. It's all about your personal revenge."_

" _No, this is about living with some dignity. This is about standing our ground when there's evil knocking at the door. I didn't get into this for me, for my family_ _ **alone**_ _– if it's convenient for you to remember, it was never just_ _ **my**_ _livelihood on the line. I did what I had to, we all did. And now, when we finally have a choice – "_

" _We agreed t'get in deeper for the_ _ **money**_ _, so we could get_ _ **out**_ _. Not so we could get so fuckin' swallowed up in it all that we can't even_ _ **leave**_ _. This has gotten so far outta control, can't you see – "_

" _If it wasn't The Governor, it would've been someone else. We owed too many people, we were already in too deep. How is it so easy for you to_ _ **forget**_ _that? As if I_ _ **chose**_ _this, as if this is anything_ _ **close**_ _to what Annette and I wanted."_

" _I ain't forgotten_ _ **any**_ _a that, Hershel. In fact, I seem ta remember you makin' a lotta promises you ain't been able ta_ _ **keep**_ _. We was s'posed ta be_ _ **out**_ _by now, this was s'posed to have been long over, but you couldn't walk away without takin' a little more for your_ _ **self**_ _, and none of us agreed to – "_

 _The tone of her daddy's voice sent a cold chill through Beth's bones as he quickly cut Otis off. "Don't you try ta guilt trip_ _ **me**_ _like that. This ain't a_ _ **goddamned**_ _hotel, Otis. It's not just a farm, or a congregation – it's a_ _ **family**_ _. You don't get ta just check in an' then check out when things get difficult. I've never left you all hanging, I've_ _ **never**_ _abandoned you when you needed my help."_

" _Then how d'you explain T-Dog an' his family?"_

" _ **Luck**_ _. Pure luck. I took advantage of a good situation – he spent his entire time under the radar, he didn't come in until late. The same can't be said for you or Patricia… I couldn't erase you two like that. I can't erase the things we've done together… I can only try t'conceal them."_

 _Beth felt an icy vine snaking its way up from the bottom of her gut and she had to still her hands again. But she couldn't walk away, couldn't stop listening. This was exactly the kind of confrontation she'd been expecting from Otis or Patricia, watching it build up week after week until one of them had to speak out._

 _Before Otis could respond, Hershel was continuing, "Is that what this is about? You want out, you think I can somehow protect you and Patricia if you leave?"_

 _Otis sighed, beginning to sound slightly defeated. "It's – we can't_ _ **condone**_ _this stuff anymore. Every day, it gets a little worse. Yeah, we found Randall, but –_ _ **Jesus**_ _, Hershel, what're you plannin' if we find Simon? You gonna cut his_ _ **head**_ _off, make yer kids watch that, too?"_

 _Hershel's voice immediately became angry, and he was straining to keep it lowered. "Don't you_ _ **dare**_ _start pulling that 'holier-than-thou' bullshit on_ _ **me**_ _. Your hands are just as dirty – the way I raise my children has_ _ **zilch**_ _to do with you."_

" _It does when I'm takin' part in it – in everythin' you do t'keep them quiet, keep 'em_ _ **safe**_ _. Look how far you've gone. Are you_ _ **proud**_ _of this? Are you_ _ **happy**_ _that Beth can't even go ta college for fear of 'er head showin' up on yer – "_

" _You'll shut your fucking mouth right now, if you know what's_ _ **good**_ _for you, Williams," Hershel snapped, his voice almost a low growl from the anger he was biting back. "Now we can take this up to my study right now, an' you can tell me a little more about how you think I should be raising_ _ **my**_ _daughters – or we can drop it and walk away."_

 _There was a tense silence, and Beth let out a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The porch creaked beneath the weight of the two men as they shifted in place._

 _Then Otis replied, much more quietly, "'Bout time for church anyway."_

" _Yeah," Hershel agreed, voice still edgy. "You go pray on it. We can talk later."_

 _Beth scurried away and out of the kitchen without her glass of water, reaching the stairs just as her daddy opened the backdoor. She rushed up to her bedroom and didn't come out until it was time to leave for church._

 _She wasn't sure what came of the heated conversation between her daddy and Otis. All she knew was that they shared a lot of tense looks during Wednesday evening service, and she never heard another mention about Otis or Patricia leaving. Or anyone, for that matter._

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Huge thanks to **GracieMae11** for all the help she gave me on this particular chapter. I hope y'all like where that went, and I hope you enjoyed the flashback (takes places in early June 2017, btw).

Also: can we talk about that TWD season 9 trailer/special preview? I am SO HERE for more Carol and Daryl scenes, omg I LOVE their platonic relationship, I'm also beyond excited to see Daryl finally getting some fucking lines this season and some more focus on his character. Aaaaand Carzekiel is happening, y'all! YAAAAAS! Just fyi, I would've made Carzekiel happen in this fic but I fucked it up so Tobin was my second favorite guy for Carol. If any of you ever want to discuss this fic or the show, please PM me. I'm officially on vacation all week so I have hella time to chat! Also: reviews are SOOOO appreciated! More reviews = more inspiration = more updates.


	54. you're the laziness of afternoon

_**you're the laziness of afternoon**_

Beth awoke on Monday morning in her own bed to Daryl's deep voice softly rumbling in her ear, "Ba-abe – I'm gettin' up, d'you want breakfast?"

She got up with the boys and volunteered to make waffles and hash browns while the coffee brewed and Daryl and Malachi got ready for the day. Then they all ate breakfast together at the small dining table before the boys headed out, Daryl leaving a lingering kiss on Beth's lips before he stepped out the door. She spent the rest of the morning sipping coffee and cleaning up from breakfast, then she lazily moved about to showering and putting on some clothes. The TV played at a low volume to fill the silence of the empty apartment, but she mostly sang aloud to herself as she walked around and went about her morning.

There was nothing new on any of the news sites pertaining to her or her family, and the TV was playing all the same old reruns and game shows that it normally did on Monday mornings. She occupied herself with reading for a while and playing around on the guitar, and when lunch time rolled around, she made a sandwich and sat down to watch _Sixteen Candles_ on a whim.

The movie ended and she lazily scrolled through the menu of other movie titles, preparing to turn the TV off altogether and move back to reading. But then her phone vibrated and she found a text message from Clementine, asking what she was doing. She quickly texted back that she wasn't doing anything, to which Clem replied within seconds that she was working in the lobby and bored out of her mind because she was ahead in her classes and had nothing to fill her time. Beth eagerly took the offer to get out of the apartment for a bit and agreed to come down and keep Clem company for a while.

The lobby was quiet and empty, and Beth only passed one other tenant on her way down the stairs. She kept her head low and didn't make eye contact, letting out a breath of relief when she reached the ground floor and spotted Clem behind the desk. The tawny-skinned girl smiled when she saw Beth approaching and offered an empty chair beside her.

"Hey," she greeted as Beth sat down and gazed at the assortment of magazines sitting on the desk, and the computer screen that displayed one of Clem's social media sites. She had a Starbucks cup in her hand, sipping absent-mindedly as her other hand flipped through pages of the magazine in front of her.

"Wow, you really are bored down here, huh?" Beth commented, reaching over and sliding one of the magazines toward her on the surface of the desk. The stack appeared to consist mostly of _Cosmopolitan_ and _Teen Vogue_ , with a couple issues of _Rolling Stone_ and _American Art Collector_ at the bottom. She couldn't see what the cover of the magazine Clem was reading said, but she saw a lot of astrology symbols on the pages.

"Yeah," Clem replied. "I was writing a paper, but I'm waiting to hear back from one of my mom's friends in another state – she collects art and she's like, an expert on some of the stuff I'm writing about. But she's a full-time lawyer so I think it might be a while until she gets back to me."

"Oh, she must be pretty busy," Beth said. "Bummer."

"Yeah, I hate waiting. You must be bored, too, if you wanted to come down here and hang out with me. This place is always a ghost town towards the end of the month," Clem said.

Beth shrugged. "Not like I got anythin' better to do."

Clem chuckled softly, flipping through her magazine. "Not with your _boyfriend_ at work all day."

Beth smirked. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Clem shook her head, gazing down at the magazine pages. "I know you're still laying low, but isn't it getting pretty old just sitting around the apartment all day? I think I'd go crazy without a job or something, or some kinda reason to get outta the house."

Beth's smirk quickly faded and she wanted to say yes, and that she wished she had a job or school or something, because she felt more useless now than she ever had before. But she just shook her head and replied, "Kinda like a vacation. After a really long time without one. Gets boring sometimes, but I don't really think I'm ready for… more yet."

Clem glanced over at her and nodded in understanding. "Oh, I see. Yeah, I get that."

Beth raised her eyebrows, fingers lingering on the page of the magazine before her as she looked over at Clem and said, "I'll be gettin' outta the house all weekend – Daryl's asked me t'go camping with him an' Mal."

"Really? Just the three of you?" Clem asked, eyes lighting up with intrigue.

"No, with his friends, Dwight an' Sherry. The ones I just met at the bar," Beth explained. "They're really nice."

"Where are you guys gonna go?"

"Somewhere up in the Catskills, I guess. I dunno – I've never been. Have you?"

Clem shrugged. "Couple times when I was younger, but it's been years. There really isn't anything out there, like civilization-wise. It's all just really small towns and wilderness. I don't think I could be away from the city like that, even for a night. No internet, no cell service…"

Beth chuckled. "We're only spendin' two nights up there. I think it'll be fun, I'm excited."

"Sounds fun," Clem agreed. "Just not my thing. Too many places to go missing and never be found."

Beth laughed and rolled her eyes, growing used to Clem's sarcastic comments.

Clem smiled, tucking some of her kinky, black hair behind her ear. "So how'd your date at the bar go, anyway? Anything exciting happen?" She was gazing back down at the open magazine in front of her.

"Oh, I was gonna text you about it but then I figured it'd be better t'tell you in person," Beth grinned excitedly.

Clem's eyes widened briefly and she looked over at Beth expectantly. "It was _that_ good? What happened?"

Beth raised her eyebrows and explained, "Well, everything was pretty normal with Dwight an' Sherry. But then these guys came in. I guess they're infamous for causin' trouble around there. One of 'em surprised me when I was at the jukebox, he tried ta grab my leg – but I used that move from the class. And I almost broke his arm!"

Clem stared at Beth in surprise, then grinned. "Seriously?"

Beth nodded, still smiling proudly. "Yeah, then Daryl came over an' almost got into it with both of the guys. But they kicked 'em out before anything happened. It was… kinda _awesome_."

Clem chuckled. "Wow, I wish somebody would've recorded that. What stopped you from breaking his arm?"

Beth laughed aloud, leaning back into her chair. "Daryl pulled him away before I could really do anythin' else. I dunno that I could stomach breakin' somebody's bones, though. I was jus' kinda holdin' him there. It was the first thing I thought t'do."

Clem gazed at Beth thoughtfully, then said, "Wow, look at that. You've come pretty far in such a short amount of time."

Beth smiled sheepishly and shrugged, knowing that the other girl was subtly comparing the night with Austin to this situation.

"I think," Clem said, smirking and looking back down to her magazine. "That the people you surround yourself with makes all the difference. And I think you chose the right ones at the right time."

Beth watched Clem silently for a moment, mulling on her words as the other girl skimmed the magazine before her, turning the page. Then she said quietly, "Yeah, I'm startin' to think that, too."

 _Except I didn't choose any of you,_ she thought, picking up the magazine she'd left open on the desk and holding it in front of her to lazily read while she relaxed into the desk chair. _I chose Daryl – kind of. He was my only option and I was desperate to be safe. But now it_ _ **is**_ _a choice. All of you kinda came in a package deal. But it still feels… right. Normal. Somehow._

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, while the two girls sat in their chairs and skimmed over the magazines in their hands, Beth asked, "How's things with your parents? Still… bad?"

She saw Clem shrug from the corner of her eye, but the tawny-skinned girl didn't look up as she mumbled, "Same as always. It's a little quieter now since my dad's on a business trip. But he'll be back next week, so I'm just trying to enjoy the peace and quiet while I can."

"Oh," Beth said quietly, glancing up but quickly back down to her magazine.

"So, how's Mal taking the new relationship? He's stoked about it, right?" Clem asked, and Beth looked over at her to see that she was still reading her magazine, a casual tone to her voice.

"Well," Beth muttered hesitantly. "He's… not exactly _stoked_. I mean, he doesn't seem to not like me or anythin', he just needs some time. I think. Why – did Carol say something?"

Clem furrowed her brow and shrugged. "No, I was just wondering. Well, she sorta said something the other day about questions and kids not understanding stuff – but, to be honest, I stopped listening like, halfway through."

Beth laughed and she saw Clem smirk, finally looking up from her magazine to meet her gaze.

"Yeah, she was sayin' the same thing to us," Beth said, smile fading. "We tried to explain it to him. I don't… think he really cares that we're together. He just – he can't really understand the situation quite yet. There's like, a lotta conversations that _Daryl_ needs to have with him."

 _A lot of conversations that don't involve me_ , she thought. _And I'm glad they don't. I just want Daryl to be okay with her being gone. And Mal._

"Ah," Clem said, sipping her Starbucks drink and nodding knowingly. "Dead mom stuff."

Beth raised her eyebrows and didn't say anything, but the look she exchanged with Clem said it all. They seemed to silently agree to leave it at that, and Beth was grateful because she was feeling a bit exhausted with thinking and talking about Daryl's dead ex-girlfriend for the time being.

A couple of minutes later, Clem was talking about her classes and telling a funny story about a weird kid that had tried to hit on her a few days ago. Beth set down her magazine and relaxed into the cushiony desk chair, gazing absent-mindedly at Clem while she talked, both of them smiling and laughing at the funny parts. Clem continued to flip through her astrology magazine while she talked. Beth went on to ask about the latest "gossip" among the girls, and Clem assured her that there was nothing exciting going on. But then they talked about Rosita and Spencer and their subtle social media posts, which Clem brought up on the computer to show Beth. Then they got distracted with scrolling through some celebrity's social media accounts, and Clem asked why Beth didn't have an account. Beth shrugged, changing the subject to ask about one of the photos she saw on the screen.

After a while of sitting together and chatting, occupying themselves with social media and magazines, the girls settled into a content silence. They both seemed to have found interesting articles in their magazines, and Beth was fiddling with a strand of her hair while she gazed down at the open magazine in her lap, reading women's "deepest" confessions. She absent-mindedly braided the part of her hair just above her left ear, and when she realized it, she felt a strange nostalgia for the farm. Her momma had taught her how to braid hair.

Then Clem's voice was breaking the silence of the lobby, grabbing Beth's attention. "What's your birthday?"

Without thinking, Beth replied, "August twenty-third. Why?"

Clem pointed her finger to a paragraph in her magazine and looked over at Beth. "'Cause I wanted to know your sign. Virgo. I'm a Capricorn."

"Oh," Beth said, smirking. "Yeah, Virgo… My sister always made fun a me for readin' horoscopes. She said it's all nonsense."

Clem shrugged, eyes skimming over the words of the paragraph at the end of her finger. "Yeah well, it probably is, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy it all the same. What's Daryl's birthday again? April? May something?"

Beth immediately replied, "May third. He's a Taurus."

Clem snickered, flipping through the pages of her magazine in search of a particular article. "Stubborn, possessive, devoted to his routine – yeah, I had a feeling he was a Taurus."

The girls shared a laugh and Beth watched curiously as the other girl found whatever page she'd been looking for, laying the magazine out flat on the surface of the desk.

"Here we go – wanna hear you and Daryl's horoscope?" She asked, glancing over at Beth with her finger pointed to a paragraph on the page.

Beth nodded, smiling. "For the month or what?"

Clem looked back down at her magazine and replied, "Here, I'll read your overall love compatibility first. Then I'll read _your_ horoscope for October."

Beth smiled wider, excited. "Okay, what's it say?"

Clem began to read aloud from the page, "'Taurus is ruled by Venus, and Virgo is ruled by Mercury. Both of these planets are close to the sun, so they're closely related even though they seem very different. Venus is physical, so it's about romance and sensuality, which are both very important to Taurus. Virgo is very good at understanding other people and can easily learn to be the romantic and sensual partner that Taurus loves and needs. Both signs value creature comforts and often show their affection in the form of gifts and shared, intimate secrets…' blah blah blah, Earth signs, we know that already… You're both seeking security and consistency, obviously…"

Beth listened, nodding occasionally. She was still smiling, letting herself take a small, guilty pleasure in relating to what the horoscope said. She had to admit that it wasn't completely off-base so far. And it reminded her of a better time: a distant time, when she'd sit in her bedroom and look up her and Jimmy's "star compatibility."

"Ooh, here's a sex horoscope – wanna hear that?" Clem smirked mischievously, glancing over at Beth.

Beth giggled and shrugged. "Sure, why not."

Clem laughed, then read aloud, "'The Virgo partner is usually ashamed to show their sexuality, or their body for that matter. This is where Taurus gets in the picture as a hero, setting their Virgo free. The gift of Taurus is their ability to relax their sexual partner by giving them just enough attention, as well as obsessing over their satisfaction.' Ooh, that sounds pretty hot 'n heavy."

Beth blushed lightly and giggled again. "I wasn't exactly a _virgin_ , though."

Clem shrugged. "Virgin- _ish_ … Okay, and then this part says, 'Virgo doesn't trust anyone with ease. It is not easy for them to open up to such an enormous field of possibility when they most often feel rather small. Taurus is much more relaxed and gives importance to sex and open communication, so if Virgo doesn't open up with their Taurus partner, it will not be easy for Taurus to believe their honesty or fully trust them… In general, Taurus is there to teach Virgo about love, tenderness and sexuality. Virgo needs to be flexible enough to value their Taurus and give them the intellectual view on things that they might idealize. Their relationship could be a match made in heaven, but only if they can both overcome their deep distrust and natural fear of being hurt. If they do give in and fall madly in love, they have the potential to be the combination of a clear heart – Taurus – and a clear mind – Virgo…' Damn, that sounds pretty intense."

 _A little too close to home,_ Beth thought with a small pang of guilt.

But she feigned a smile and nodded. "It might be nonsense, but it's awfully _accurate_ nonsense."

Clem shrugged and looked up, still smirking. " _Eh_ , they say people can find relation in anything if they're really looking for it. But I dunno, sometimes it's kinda creepy how on-point it is."

"So what should I expect from the stars in the coming month?" Beth asked, picking up her magazine and opening it once again as something to keep her hands busy.

Clem looked back down to her magazine, pausing for a moment, then she summarized as she read, "Well, according to this, your life is going to get 'emotional and confrontational' in the beginning of October, and you and your partner will be searching for security in 'finances _and_ emotions.' Oh, and during the full moon, there will be a ' _climax_ in sex and intimacy' – _ooh la-la_. October will be a month that Virgo learns a lot about themselves, and the full moon is supposed to bring 'dark secrets to the surface.' Well, that sounds ominous… Seems like you and Daryl are gonna have an interesting time with Libra season and the full moon."

Beth listened and tried to find the humor in Clem's words, but she couldn't shake the feeling of dread spreading through her whole body. She told herself it was just a silly horoscope, it was all nonsense. But something was telling her that it was going to end up being far more precise than she ever wanted.

"Well, let's hope _that_ part doesn't come true," she said with a faint half-smile as Clem continued reading. "I don't need any more excitement or ' _dark_ secrets.' Just the security part."

Her paranoia was kicking in again. What if the universe was trying to warn her that her secret would come to light? Should she take the cue and spill her soul to Daryl before he found out some other way?

"Damn, my horoscope isn't _nearly_ as steamy as yours," Clem commented a couple moments later, snapping Beth from her momentary trance. Clem sighed and closed the magazine, sliding it across the desk. "Whatever. Halloween's coming up, and so are Pumpkin Spice Lattes. There's not much that can bring _me_ down this month."

Beth smiled and chuckled, watching as Clem moved back to the computer and began scrolling through her social media. She went back to reading short articles in _Cosmopolitan_ while Clem chatted about some of her classmates, occasionally venting about her parents. At one point, she brought up the next self-defense class and Beth explained that she and Daryl likely wouldn't be there, and that Carol had talked about not being there either. Clem expressed her disappointment, but then Beth told her about the possibility of Tara and Rosita teaching the class for a day and she quickly cheered up, laughing at the prospect.

The girls sat with each other for a couple of hours, passing the time together as the sun moved across the cloudless sky outside. Then Clem got a phone call from her boss, explaining that a maintenance man would be arriving shortly and that he needed her to file some paperwork for him. Beth took her cue to leave and exchanged a light hug with Clem before heading back upstairs and retreating behind the locked door of apartment 3A.

After having a snack and making a fresh pitcher of sweet tea, Beth relaxed on the couch with her glass and watched TV. She grabbed a rubber band from the bathroom and redid the small braid above her left ear, tucking it back and running her fingertips over the tufts of hair with satisfaction. In an inexplicable way, it made her feel just a little more like who she was supposed to be. Even though she was still trying to figure out who that was – which was something she'd originally thought she wouldn't have to worry about until she was long gone from the country. But Daryl and Mal had come into the picture and changed all of that. It was becoming just as important as her imminent escape.

Her mind was still racing from the eventful weekend, and now she was thinking about the horoscope stuff, too – even though it was a bit childish and she knew it. No matter how childish it might be to believe in "nonsense" like that, though, she also knew there was some stark truth behind it. For the millionth time, she was battling with herself on when and how to tell Daryl the truth. It was no longer a question of 'if.' She _had_ to, or else he'd find out on his own. And she was getting sick of thinking about all the horrible outcomes that would arise from him finding out that she'd lied for so long.

But how could she explain something when she was still struggling to make sense of it herself?

When she checked her phone, she found a text from Daryl. It read:

 _Gonna be home about an hour late. Picking up some stuff for the trip. Let me know if you need anything. Can't wait to see ya._

Beth's mind slowed a little and her tensed shoulders relaxed once she read his message, and she quickly sent a text back. Now she was curious to see what he would be bringing home. It would only be a few short hours until she'd find out.

With the TV still on but playing commercials, she half-heartedly began going through the routine of checking the news headlines on her phone. She knew there probably wouldn't be anything new posted since she'd checked earlier, but it always worked to ease her mind a little when she started to get caught up in her paranoia and guilt. Sure enough, the national news was nothing more than the usual. She scrolled through until she started seeing the same articles as earlier, then she moved to the Georgia news website. Theirs wasn't much different, and she scrolled down, skimming the words and subtopics. She was about to click over to the Atlanta news when she stopped – her eyes quickly darted back to the words she'd just skimmed over.

It was a small link off to the side of the page, just like last time, and it read: " _The Search For the Truth About Wanted Beth Greene Continues_." Beth didn't even have to check for the author of the article because she immediately knew.

 _Jenny Jones_ , she thought, tapping the link and listening to her own heartbeat speeding up in her ears as the article loaded on the phone's small screen. _What did you find out now, Mrs. Jones? Are you gonna be the one to eventually put my face on national news?_

It was a mixture of excitement, anticipation, deep dread, and teeth-grinding anxiety as Beth proceeded to read the small font on her screen. She struggled to keep her hands steady so she could focus on the words while she read:

 _ **Atlanta, GA – Sept. 25, 2017  
**_ _In the ten days since publishing my first article about Hershel Greene, his illegal operation, and his fugitive daughter, Beth Greene, there have been no updates on the Greene case. At least not publicly. According to unnamed sources, the DEA and FBI seized control of all investigations surrounding the Greene Family just one week after the farm was busted on August 26th. However, investigation of the farm has halted, though the yellow Caution tape remains around the property. And as of the last 24 hours, there's been no police activity in or around the Senoia Baptist Church, leading most to believe that the investigation has been ended indefinitely._

 _Meanwhile, the Greenes' judicial case has only just begun as they await the next steps of court proceedings. Prosecution and defense alike have been working strenuously to compile evidence and continue the long process of preparing for the trials of Maggie Greene-Rhee and her husband. As well as preparing for the sentencing of Hershel Greene._

 _Which brings about a large question: why did this investigation end so abruptly? In 16 years of reporting, I have never seen a case of this scale and complexity being treated in the manner that authorities are treating the Greene case. Needless to say, the Greene's property is massive, and when you consider the addition of the church, it is not realistically possible to gather every viable piece of evidence in one short month for a criminal case of this size. Especially when there are multiple sources reporting that forensic investigation teams were only on the scene for a total of 12 hours. And in a situation like this, forensic evidence and analysis is the most crucial type of evidence that can be collected. Is it possible for them to have thoroughly and properly examined every detail of the crime scene when they spent so little time on such a large and overwhelming property?_

 _Although there have been no public updates on the Greene's intricate and mysterious case, there has been an influx of tips about Beth Greene's whereabouts, as well as information about the Greene operation. In the last ten days, I've personally received at least two dozen emails pertaining to tips about Beth Greene and her family, all of which have been forwarded to the proper authorities for investigation. However, those same authorities refuse to make comments or answer questions about Beth Greene or the prematurely-closed investigation of the farm and church._

 _Never underestimate the power of journalism, though. After some digging and several long talks with various anonymous sources, it seems that there has been a cataclysmic wave sweeping through the Georgia law enforcement system. Sources inside Atlanta and Senoia Police Departments report that there has been a lot of confusion amidst the Greene investigation. It is confirmed that multiple authorities working the case have been taken off, barred from information or involvement, while more and more outsiders have been brought in and given confidential assignments._

 _Since the arrests made on August 26th, approximately five of the arresting officers have been promoted, while three have been transferred to different counties. Det. Dawn Lerner, the lead detective in the sting operation that led to Hershel Greene's arrest, has been reassigned to another case and is currently awaiting news on the status of a requested transfer to an undisclosed location. She has refused to answer calls or emails for comment._

 _As for Detective Rick Grimes, who is still comatose inside Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta, things are beginning to look up. Det. Grimes' doctors report that he is improving every day, and they are optimistic that he will eventually wake up. His wife, Lori, and young son, Carl, continue to beg the public for tips or information on Beth Greene's whereabouts. It is reported that Lori Grimes has agreed to be a character witness for her husband and his partner, Det. Shane Walsh, in the upcoming trial. She has also voiced her desire for the judge to consider a death penalty sentencing for Hershel Greene, as well as for his eldest daughter, Maggie. Though any information on a possible death sentence will not be definite until much later into the trial, and Hershel Greene's sentencing is still months away. When I reached out to the DA about this particular detail, they refused to comment. Tomorrow will mark one full month that Det. Grimes has been unresponsive._

 _According to anonymous sources who have worked inside, and alongside, the Greene case, there are loads of evidence that have been essentially abandoned on the Greenes' property. Police reportedly seized multiple computers from the farmhouse, as well as from the Senoia Baptist Church, and at least half a dozen file cabinets from both locations. However, the infamous Hershel Greene apparently worked with stealth, and was more than careful not to leave any sort of incriminating trail in his wake. Authorities have been vigilantly searching for viable evidence, but sources report that they are continuously coming up empty-handed. As of yet, the most incriminating evidence that has been seized is the hundreds of thousands of dollars of methamphetamine, as well as the millions of dollars of production equipment and chemicals, all of which were found inside various barns and cellars throughout the Greenes' extensive property._

 _Which leaves those mountains of evidence that no one is paying attention to. What could they contain? What kind of details are investigators overlooking? Have authorities made a mistake in allowing the federal government to step in and take charge of this complex case?_

 _Despite the miles and miles of yellow Caution tape surrounding the acres of Hershel Greene's property, there has been no activity of any sort around the premises for days. The land is reportedly hanging in a sort of ownership limbo, waiting for the government to send in a cleanup crew and approve its resale once the trial is finished. If you step inside the large, white farmhouse on the Greene property, wade through the overturned tables and scattered contents of emptied drawers and take a right, you'll see a large, ornate cross hanging on the wall of the dining room. Less than twenty feet away from that cross are two bloodstains in the carpet, presumably belonging to Detectives Shane Walsh and Rick Grimes. Up the stairs, on the second floor of the house and just across the hall from Beth Greene's lifelong bedroom, sits a small study, its walls soundproofed with thick insulation that was specially built into that one particular room of the house. And inside that study lies nearly every secret Hershel Greene ever kept hidden, from his emptied safe that once held family heirlooms and thousands of dollars, to the small corkboard on the wall that seemingly displayed his young children's crayon drawings. Inside the locked drawers of his desk are years of dark secrets and details, all of which are begging the question: did Hershel's family really know everything? Or was he keeping just as much hidden from those closest to him as he was keeping from the public?_

 _Among the piles and piles of evidence that the FBI and DEA considered "inconclusive" or "irrelevant" is a thick file folder containing several college applications, stored away inside one of those locked desk drawers. These desk drawers were bashed open and dumped out within the first week of the investigation, only for the majority of their contents to be shuffled through and tossed aside as unrelated. As I stated in my previous article, there are no public records, or even a trace, of a college application with any of the Greene children's names on it. However, in this thick file folder that was thrown to the side by law enforcement is a stack of applications to study abroad and attend prestigious universities overseas – and they all have Bethany Greene's name on them. From applications to colleges in several parts of Europe, to handwritten letters requesting help from former colleagues or asking for recommendations. Inside Hershel Greene's desk is a treasure trove of mystery, and the biggest one of all is why all these applications never made it to the post office._

 _With the small pieces of evidence that have been presented so far, we are left with nothing but more questions. Did Hershel Greene intend to send his youngest daughter overseas, to another country, for further education? Or was he planning something more? What stopped him from sending her far away, and why didn't he do the same for the older children? Was it an attempt at protecting young Beth Greene? And if so… what was he protecting her from? We know there was some sort of dispute going on involving Hershel's operation and rival drug dealers. But who were those rival dealers? Why isn't law enforcement looking farther into the murders of Annette and Shawn Greene? Why was their case closed so quickly and so indecisively, and why is there so much evidence yet again being left abandoned? And is the DEA looking into the other side of this drug war? Are they actively seeking the other possible kingpin? What if Hershel Greene is actually the least dangerous of whatever ring of operations he and his family were involved in?_

 _If you're wondering what any of this has to do with young fugitive, Beth Greene, and the murder of Det. Walsh, the most important question that needs to be made clear is this:_ _ **Why**_ _did Beth Greene feel the need to shoot that officer?_

 _With as little as we know about Hershel's youngest daughter, we have to scrutinize every new piece of information that comes to light. From an outsider's perspective, it doesn't make sense to assume a teenage girl would murder an officer of the law in cold blood. Perhaps she was raised to be lethal – this is a fair point. But there has been no evidence to support such a story. Thus far, Beth Greene appears no different than the ideal Southern American teenager. On that same note, we must also consider the extents that the family went to in order to maintain their godly appearance to the public; but it stands to reason that such values were not solely for show when it came to young Beth. From reports of nearly every person who ever knew her on a personal level, she was well-meaning, harmless, and devoted to God and her family. So what would cause a girl like this to aim a Beretta 92 at a detective and squeeze the trigger?_

 _My theory:_ _ **fear**_ _. The prodigal daughter was raised in an environment of terror, forced to keep up a constant lie as she watched half her family get slaughtered in a drug war she most likely didn't fully understand. This thought may seem off-the-wall to most of you for the time being, but special consideration must always be taken when addressing the lives of our most tender-aged citizens. She may have been a legal adult, but just barely. And despite her book smarts, she could've just as easily been raised to remain ignorant to the illicit activities going on around her._

 _There are countless questions when it comes to the truth about this mysterious case. It is undoubtedly one of the most complex and captivating cases I have ever encountered during my 16-year career, and though I know authorities are doing their best to serve the public and keep up with the tireless hours of work that goes into a prosecution like this, I cannot allow these questions to remain unanswered. Stay tuned to WSAV for more updates as I continue to dig into the Greene case and work to discover the truth about the missing and wanted Beth Greene – and where she could be._

 _If you have any tips or information to report about Beth Greene, please call the toll-free number listed below immediately._

Beth's hands were trembling as she held the phone, no matter how hard she tried to steady them. There were no tears in her eyes, yet her vision was still becoming blurry. The information she'd just taken in began to really process, and despite Jenny Jones' professional, journalistic tone, it was hitting her hard.

This woman had gone into Beth's home back in Georgia. She'd walked through the dining room where Beth had seen her daddy for the last time. She'd walked up the stairs that Beth had raced down beside Maggie. She'd probably gone into Beth's bedroom, seen the bed she'd slept in and the guitar she'd played. And then she'd gone into Hershel's study. She'd rifled through his papers. She'd looked at his corkboard – the one that had a crayon drawing of a horse from when Beth was five.

She'd found college applications that Beth had no idea had ever existed. College applications with _her_ name on it.

 _Brainwashedbrainwashedbrainwashed._

Beth thought of the tattered diary she'd been forced to burn, and for a split-second, she was torn, because half of her was thankful to Maggie for making her destroy it so that the police hadn't taken it in and used it… but the other half was angry that it hadn't been sitting in her bedroom, waiting to be found by Jenny Jones. Mostly, she was just angry. Disappointed. Overwhelmed with these new facts. She felt cheated. What else had her daddy been hiding from her? What other plans had he made for her life and failed to inform her of? Or failed to go through with?

She might never know now. She'd _never_ find out the full truth. Lori Grimes wanted the Greene's put to death – and that thought sent a cold terror through Beth's body. What if they did it? What if they killed her daddy and her sister? She knew she'd probably never see them again anyway, but knowing they were executed would be a whole other pain that she didn't want to even _begin_ to imagine. How could she possibly go on knowing she was the _last_ Greene left? Knowing that the truth about her family, about the life she'd known, had died with her daddy and sister? Knowing that they'd died alone and miserable, put down like they were nothing more than sick animals? Knowing that the media had painted them as horrible, evil people?

She shut her eyes tightly and dropped the phone onto the couch cushion. Her hands trembled as she held them out before her, unsure of what to do with them. Her stomach churned angrily, tensing into a painful knot.

She recalled that ominous conversation with Maggie after the murders, how she'd mentioned that their daddy was "looking into other options" – so Maggie knew about the college applications, too. Why didn't she just tell Beth exactly what options he was looking into? And why didn't Maggie push their daddy to send them in, to go through with it? Why did she let him keep her there while everything crumbled around them? Then again, Maggie had only ever had so much say in how things worked. Maybe she'd tried, but… was their daddy too damn stubborn to go through with it?

 _Why didn't he send them in?_ She thought desperately. _Why did he keep me there if he knew how bad things were getting? If he knew there was a chance to get me out? Why? WHY?! They're going to kill him – they're gonna_ _ **kill**_ _my daddy because he tried to keep us safe._

She suddenly felt light-headed, even though she was sitting down, and her chest was getting tighter and tighter. Her heart was thumping hard, racing like she'd just run a mile. Her breath began coming in shorter gasps, and then it was like a hand was clenching onto her lungs and squeezing. She gasped harder, struggled to catch her breath, to clear her vision of the black dots. Her head felt like it was ninety-percent air now, and she leaned over to lie down on the couch, to make her body horizontal in hopes that it would help. For a moment, she thought she might be dying.

Then a memory flashed in her mind: that day in the barn. Her daddy, splattered with Randall's blood, blue eyes wild and fiery. And his voice, deep and calm somehow, despite the chaos.

" _What I wouldn't do to keep you two safe."_

And then her sister. Maggie's defiant voice, reminding her, _"We've all got jobs to do."_

Her heart rate slowed and the hand gripping her lungs loosened its grasp until she could take in a full breath again. She wasn't sure how long it had felt like she was dying, but it had seemed like an eternity. Now that it passed, though, she realized it had been momentary. She didn't understand it. The anxiety had become truly overwhelming and she'd felt… _terrified_. A fear that had stolen the air from her lungs.

At the heart of all the anger and disappointment, it was just fear.

But she sat up and rubbed her eyes, then massaged her temples and tried to push it all out of her mind. Even though that was well past impossible by now.

 _He did it to protect me_ , she thought, still making sense of this new information. _Daddy was trying to protect me. He wanted to send me away – somewhere safe. But something happened… plans changed. He never meant for me to stay. I knew it. I knew he wanted more for me._

She spent the rest of the afternoon lying on her bed and staring at the photo of her family, continuously trying to make sense of everything in her head. But she knew that it was all a giant puzzle, and she only had a handful of the pieces. She still wasn't sure if she _wanted_ all the answers, let alone the ones that Jenny Jones would inevitably uncover.

* * *

Daryl arrived home about an hour later than usual, like he'd said in his text message. And he had Mal in tow, as well as multiple shopping bags hanging off his arms. With more than enough time to prepare, Beth already had dinner ready and waiting, and she rushed to the front door to help the boys unload.

In her hours alone since reading Jenny Jones' newest article, she'd spent time trying to process things, as well as scouring other news sites and assuring herself that her story wasn't getting any more media attention. Once it was time to start cooking dinner, she had alleviated her mind and eased her nerves, and now, more than anything else, she craved another relaxing evening with the boys. She just wanted to feel that sense of normalcy again, even if her daddy's secrets were looming heavy at the back of her mind.

She helped Mal unpack his things while he excitedly told her about his day, and then she guided him toward the bedroom while Daryl hung up his vest and unpacked his backpack. When she joined him again, he was holding a shoebox and looking at her expectantly.

"What's that?" She asked, smiling.

He pulled off the lid and held the box out for her to see. "Got ya some hikin' boots. For the trip."

Beth's smile immediately grew wider as she gazed down into the shoebox to see a brand new pair of women's hiking boots in her size. She reached out and took the box from him, holding it closer to pull one of the boots out with her other hand and admire it.

"Oh, Daryl, these are perfect," she said, looking up and meeting his bashful gaze. "Thank you. How'd you know my size?"

He smirked and shrugged. "Checked yer other pair ta find out. No big deal. Couldn't have ya walkin' around out there in those _city_ boots." He gestured toward her bedroom and she knew he was referring to the black boots she'd been wearing.

She placed the boot back in its box and moved to set them aside, but when she looked back up, Daryl was taking a step closer and holding out something else for her. She furrowed her brow quizzically and tentatively reached out to take the small, black band from his outstretched hand.

"What – you got me somethin' else?" She asked, beginning to blush as she turned the black band over in her hands and quickly realized it was a bracelet. The black leather band was connected to a large, silver cross.

"I can take it back if ya don't like it," he muttered, stroking his chin nervously as he watched her inspect the bracelet. "Jus' – thought it might be nicer'an that bandana you been wearin'. Not that I don't like the bandana, but – ya know. This seems more yer style."

She smirked and her heart leapt. She quickly untied and slipped off the bandana from her left wrist. "My style, huh?" She said, setting the bandana aside and putting on the cross bracelet. It was about the same width, covering her scar perfectly, and the cross was worn sideways, spanning from one side of her wrist to the other. Her smirk grew into a full smile as she gazed down at it, then she looked up to find Daryl still watching her and stroking his chin, studying her.

"Yeah. Looks more _you_ ," he mumbled, gazing at the bracelet and then tentatively meeting her eyes again. "I'ono. I saw it an' it reminded me of ya. An' I know you believe in that stuff, so it seemed a li'l nicer than what ya been wearing."

Beth blushed lightly, unable to stop smiling. "' _That stuff'_? You mean God? There _is_ a big cross hanging in my room, ya know…"

She raised her eyebrows teasingly and he grunted, giving her a half-smile. "Yeah. Dunno what it says about me that I keep fallin' fer Jesus freaks – I ain't ever gonna understand that religion stuff." He shrugged. "But I get it. You believe in somethin'."

Her smile faltered for a split-second and she realized she'd thoughtlessly brought up Lucy, but then her stomach did a little flutter. _He's falling for me, too?_

She nodded and rested her right hand over the silver cross on her left wrist. "Yeah. I do."

Daryl paused, briefly glancing at her lips, then mumbled so quietly that Beth almost didn't catch it, "And… maybe I do, too."

Her lips spread into a grin and she quickly stepped forward, leaning up on her tiptoes to capture his lips in an eager kiss. He reflexively wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned into her, deepening the kiss. They both seemed to relax, all the tension from the day melting from their muscles as they embraced each other.

It wasn't until a few moments later, when Daryl was in the bedroom with Mal getting ready for dinner, that Beth really began to think about it. She gazed down at the cross bracelet on her wrist and slowly came to the realization that Daryl was seeing the _real_ her, even beneath her shoddy disguise. Which made her wonder how long it would take him to spot all the _other_ lies.

She managed to shake off most of her intrusive thoughts once she was sitting down and eating with the boys. Malachi's playful chatter helped cheer her up a bit, and though she could see Daryl flashing her a concerned glance every now and then, she chose to ignore it. He seemed to take the hint, though he almost appeared relieved when she was finally laughing with them and joining the conversation. She reminded herself to stop letting her emotions show so obviously – especially around someone as observant as Daryl.

After dinner, they helped each other clean up as usual while Mal continued talking about his day with Carol and excitedly asking for details about their upcoming trip. When Daryl began to grow frustrated with answering questions and repeating himself, he suggested they watch a movie or read together. But Mal requested that "Rosie" play music for them because he "felt like dancing." Daryl shook his head, smiling the whole time, and gave Beth an expectant look – they silently agreed that maybe some dancing would release the toddler's extra energy.

As she stepped into her bedroom to grab her guitar, she heard Mal chirping up with another question for his dad, and she almost tuned it out before she caught his words, "Dad, did um, did my mom know how ta pway music?"

She paused on her way back out to the living room, listening as Daryl hesitated. He quickly replied, but it was evident in his tone that he'd been caught off-guard. "Uh – no, bud. But she did um, she did other stuff. She wrote poems, an' uh – she was real talented."

Mal replied with a simple, "Oh."

Before he could ask any follow-up questions, Beth left her bedroom and joined the boys in the living room again, taking her usual seat on the couch. Mal's face lit up when he saw the guitar, and he immediately began clapping and rushing over to gently tug on Beth's arm and request a song.

Beth spent the next hour playing kids' songs and old classics that she knew by heart, singing and smiling while she and Daryl watched Mal dance around happily, singing along when he knew the words. Her heart felt lighter than it had all day and when she looked over at Daryl, she caught him gazing at her wistfully, a smirk on his face. She flashed him a crooked half-smile, tilting her head to the side, then turned back to Mal and laughed as she watched the toddler attempt a poorly coordinated cartwheel.

Her fingers eventually started to ache and she stopped playing, setting the guitar down beside her and standing up. She cracked her knuckles and glanced at Daryl before looking pointedly at Mal and announcing, "Okay, how about some reading or somethin'? I think that's enough dancing for one night, what d'you think?"

She looked over to Daryl again and he nodded, but when she saw Mal's face, she found him quickly growing upset. His smile disappeared and he frowned, brow creasing.

"What – _why-y_? Pway another!" He whined.

"Maybe one more, but I'm gettin' kinda tired, Mal," Beth explained gently. Daryl watched from beside her, leaning forward and preparing to step in.

Mal pouted, small arms hanging at his sides in defeat as he stared up at Beth angrily. "But I wanna dance more!"

Daryl cleared his throat but the toddler ignored him, and Beth replied, "We can dance more tomorrow, I promise. Let's do somethin' else until bed time – "

Mal grunted angrily and rushed over to Beth's guitar, grabbing it and beginning to pick it up as he whined, "No! I want _music_!"

Daryl stood up to move in and scold his son, but Beth was closer, and she instinctively reached out to pull the toddler's hands off her guitar. She kept a firm but gentle voice as she told him, "Mal, _don't_ touch it. It's not a toy."

Mal whined again, louder and angrier, and yanked his hands away from Beth. He stomped his foot and Daryl stepped forward, gently grabbing his son by the arm and attempting to pull him away from the instrument. "Mal, _don't_ talk ta her like that, and don't touch stuff that – "

But Mal ignored him and stared up at Beth defiantly, loudly proclaiming, "Yer _not_ my mom! I don't have ta _listen_ to you!"

Beth froze, mouth dropping open. She quickly looked to Daryl, at a complete loss for words, and she saw that he appeared just as taken aback as she was.

But then his face grew angry and he spoke a little louder and a lot firmer, " _Malachi Luciano_! Go to your room! She may not be yer mom, but she _is_ an adult, and you _will_ respect her."

Mal grunted in frustration but he knew better than to argue with his dad any longer. Without another glance at "Rosie," he turned and stomped out of the living room, down the hall to his bedroom. Daryl followed to make sure he was doing as he was told, then returned to the living room with an apologetic expression on his face.

Unsure of what to do with herself, Beth had picked up the guitar and was walking to her bedroom to put it back, but Daryl stopped her next to the couch. She found it difficult to look up into his eyes at the moment – she felt an indescribable guilt for something she couldn't quite explain. The toddler's outburst felt like a sign that she had overstayed her welcome.

"Hey – I'm sorry he said that," Daryl quickly explained, voice lowered. He reached out and gently grasped her arm, studying her face as she avoided his gaze. "He's just actin' out. That's how toddlers are – they're like tiny teenagers. Mood swings left an' right. He didn't mean it."

She shrugged and feigned a weak smile, returning his gaze for a brief second. "No, I understand. Don't feel bad, it's not your fault. I'm – I shouldn't've tried ta discipline him. That's not my place."

Daryl shook his head, brow furrowed as he let her pull her arm from his grasp and step past him to enter her bedroom. She felt him watching her while she walked over and returned the guitar to its spot, and he said, "Wasn't really disciplinin' him. He was just havin' a tantrum – trust me. He's pretty tame for his age, but it still comes through. Couple months ago, he threw a fit 'cause I wouldn't let 'im make one a those uh, escape ropes. Ya know, out of tied-together sheets. He saw it in a cartoon an' wanted ta scale down the side of our building. Cried fer three hours when I untied all his knots an' locked his window."

Beth tried not to, but a soft giggle escaped from her mouth and she shook her head, looking away from Daryl. "Yeah, but this is different, Daryl. It's not a random tantrum, he's mad because he thinks I'm trying t'take his mom's place."

Daryl scoffed and shook his head. "That's not true. He's… confused. I'm workin' on it, I swear. But it takes time – he's tryin' ta process everything. Carol said he had a lot more questions today. I knew somethin' like this was comin'… I'm the dick fer puttin' you in the middle of it."

Beth stared back at him incredulously. "No, you're not. You just – _we_ just…"

But she didn't know what she was trying to say. They both felt equally guilty, but at the end of the day, they both knew that the bulk of Mal's issues had to be resolved by Daryl and Daryl alone. A tense silence filled the space between them and she tentatively stepped forward, closer to him.

He scratched his stubbly jaw and stroked his chin thoughtfully, watching her. Then he said, "Don't beat yerself up. Alright? It's one of… _many_ tantrums ta come. So if yer in it for the long haul – well, ya best be ready for more a this nonsense. I'll do what I gotta do ta keep it under control, though."

She gazed down at her socks, chewing the inside of her cheek and letting his words settle over her. Then she nodded weakly and met his eyes. At the heart of the issue, she knew he was right. She wanted to go apologize to Mal – for intruding, for overstepping. For lying. But she knew that this would be better handled by his father.

Daryl hesitantly closed the remaining distance between them when she didn't say anything for a few long seconds, and when she felt his calloused hand gently tipping her chin up so that her eyes would meet his, she didn't resist. She just gazed up at him helplessly, her features heavy with unspoken apologies. He briefly reciprocated her look of concern, then leaned down to softly kiss her on the lips.

When he pulled back and she opened her eyes, he was faintly smiling. A reassuring expression. His hand fell away from her chin and back to his side, and he mumbled, "How 'bout… I go have a talk with 'im, put 'im ta bed. Then me an' you can watch a movie."

Beth couldn't suppress the smirk that tugged at the corner of her mouth. She shrugged bashfully. "That sounds nice."

His smile became more genuine and he nodded, reaching out and squeezing her hand affectionately as he prepared to turn and leave the room. "Pick a good one. You'll have plenty a time ta choose."

She nodded and watched him give one last reassuring look before he turned and left the bedroom to head down the hall and join Mal. She waited for a long moment, listening to his footsteps fade out and the sound of his and Mal's muffled voices soon after.

Unable to help herself, she stepped out of the bedroom and walked softly down the hall to the bathroom door, stopping just outside. She had to go to the bathroom anyway, but she wandered down a little farther until she was a couple feet away from the boys' bedroom door, which was ajar. Their voices became clear when she got closer, and her eyes remained on the bathroom, intending to go inside and then back to her bedroom.

But she simply couldn't resist the urge to hear what Daryl intended on telling Mal. She was afraid he might scold the toddler, which would only make her feel worse and probably make Mal resent her more. But she was also curious – was this going to be the first of many private talks about their dear, departed Lucy?

Sure enough, she could hear them talking about "moms" and "girlfriends," and Mal was understandably full of questions. After a few moments, she was relieved to hear that Daryl was speaking gently, and Mal wasn't whining or arguing, but rather begging for more answers. Beth had no idea that her guitar playing would incite such a conversation, but it sounded like Mal had begun to question everything around him in terms of how it related to the mother he couldn't remember. She started to think that maybe she'd only been a catalyst for something that was inevitably going to come up eventually.

Then she heard Daryl's voice, low and tinged with sadness. He said, "Son… I got somethin' ta read to ya."

"About my mom?" Mal's voice was eager.

There was a hesitant pause, then Daryl said, "Yeah. I know you like music, but – well, poems are like songs without the guitars or drums. D'you – would you like to, uh… hear a poem yer momma wrote?"

"Yes, yes!" Mal immediately said. "Are you gonna read it to me, Dad? Did she really write it? Herself? My mom?!"

"Yes, Mal," Daryl replied patiently, and then Beth heard the sound of heavy footsteps crossing the bedroom followed by the sound of a drawer opening. A few seconds later, the footsteps were receding and Daryl grunted, then spoke again. "She wrote this – son, yer mother wrote this when she was still pregnant with you."

"Really?! When I was in her belly?" Mal asked excitedly.

Daryl chuckled faintly. "Yeah, when you were in her belly. We were so excited ta meet you – we spent four _months_ pickin' out just the right name for ya."

Mal laughed happily and said, "You did?! Dad, I like my name!"

Daryl chuckled again. "Good, son. I'm glad. Now – this poem is, um…" Beth heard the familiar sound of pages fluttering, a book being opened and leafed through. "This poem is for you, Malachi. She wrote this when you were in 'er belly – but she wanted you ta know how much she loved you. Even before she ever met ya."

"She wrote it – for _me_?!" Mal repeated, voice full of awe. "It's 'bout _me_?"

"Yeah," Daryl replied, then he cleared his throat. "Now, sit still an' listen, I'm gonna read it to ya – okay?"

Mal's voice didn't chime in again, and Beth hesitated where she stood.

Daryl's voice was low and steady, but there was a heaviness behind it that was being pushed back as he read aloud. " _'To my baby boy, my firstborn son, my Malachi: you are the only man that God truly made just for me. You were formed by my blood and your father's love…'_ "

Beth quickly stepped away and disappeared inside the bathroom. She had already eavesdropped, and this moment felt like something private between a father and a son that even she shouldn't intrude on. She'd intruded enough already. Not to mention, a small, shameful part of her had no desire to hear Daryl's dead ex-girlfriend's poetry.

She knew it was immature and insecure of her to feel a tinge of jealousy at something so petty, but she decided it was just another sign that she needed to remember her place in the boys' lives. She had encouraged Daryl to tell Mal more about his mom anyway, and that's what he was doing. She could only pray that it helped the toddler find the closure he needed, and that it wouldn't incite any more tantrums directed towards her.

She returned to her bedroom and shut the door, her head and chest feeling heavier than usual. No matter how happy spending time with Daryl and Mal made her, she couldn't keep pushing off all the anxiety and the fear. The guilt. The ever-growing weight of all her lies resting atop her shoulders.

The urge to tell Daryl the truth was ever-growing, too. It nipped at the surface harder every day, and Beth kept asking herself: _when_ would be the right time? How deep was _too_ deep, before there was no coming back? Was there a point where he wouldn't understand, no matter how she tried to explain it to him? Maybe there _was_ no redeeming herself. She'd already, done too much, she'd hurt too many people, she'd taken it too far.

Was Jenny Jones her last hope? Could this mysterious reporter be Beth's last chance at redemption, both publicly _and_ privately? Or would it even matter, when all was said and done? The prosecutors didn't seem to give a rat's ass what circumstances drove Beth to shooting Det. Walsh – just like they hadn't given a rat's ass who killed Annette and Shawn, or why.

Just like Daryl wouldn't give a rat's ass _why_ "Rosie" had lied to him for so long.

But she had run. She'd fled. She'd hid. She'd broken so many damn laws. And who was going to listen to one, lesser-known reporter over an entire _team_ of detectives and prosecutors? What did the state of Georgia care if they locked up an eighteen-year-old girl for life, or sentenced her father and older sister to death row? As long as they had a face to put on their papers when they printed the headline, " _Justice For Slain Det. Shane Walsh._ " Beth could already picture it.

With her mind racing and battling itself left and right, she absent-mindedly picked up her phone. At first, she thought maybe she could distract herself. But then she was reflexively navigating her way back to the Georgia news site, scrolling down to that article link from before, as a spontaneous idea popped into her head.

She quickly found Jenny Jones' info at the bottom of the article and clicked the "Contact Author" link. It displayed a public email address for Jenny Jones, and Beth copied it before opening up her email. She clicked the "Compose New Message" button and pasted Jenny's email address into the "Send To" line. Then she typed out a message, her fingers flying across the small touchscreen.

She got three sentences typed out, then she paused and read over what she'd typed:

" _Dear Mrs. Jones,  
You are right. The police do not know the whole story, they do not have all the facts. Not even Beth Greene herself has all the facts."_

She read it again. And again. Her fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating in her desire to type more.

Then she highlighted the entire message and pressed "Delete." She quickly closed her email and locked her phone screen, tossing the phone aside on her bed and heaving a frustrated sigh. She buried her face into the pillow, her daddy's sad, blue eyes quickly appearing in the blacks of her eyelids. Then she waited and listened for the sound of Daryl's footsteps in the hall while her mind continued to race.

 _I can't risk it,_ she thought. _I'll just have to pray to God that Jenny Jones can figure it out on her own… And that no one stops her before she does._

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** The bracelet Daryl gives Beth in this chapter is the same one she wears in season 2/3 of the show. I included a photo with the chapter on AO3. I took info from multiple astrology websites and summarized my own "horoscopes" for Taurus and Virgo - I think those signs fit these versions of Beth and Daryl really well so I wanted to include some astrology stuff because I'm very cheesy.  
Let me know what you thought and see y'all next Sunday! Ch 55 will be the follow-up appointment with Dr. Dana and then... time for the camping trip! :)  
And we WILL eventually be seeing where Jenny Jones is getting all her info and "anonymous sources" from ;) Let's just say that her methods aren't always conventional - or 100% legal lmao.


	55. you're the reason why i burst and why i

_**you're the reason why i burst and why i bloomed**_

 _Beth was nine years old and one of her favorite things about spring and summer was helping Momma plant vegetables and flowers in their little garden. There was something about a sandwich made with lettuce and tomatoes that Beth had planted herself, watered, watched grow, and eventually picked, that just tasted so much better than any other sandwich. And the flowers they'd plant would always bloom so big and colorful, coming out prettier than all its wild counterparts. And Momma always let her do all the fun parts, even when it meant getting her hands and fingernails all black with dirt. Maggie used to help them, but for the last two summers, she'd been too "busy." Momma said that Maggie was a teenager now, and she was growing up and learning to take on more responsibilities. Beth still didn't understand why that meant she didn't have time to grow tomatoes with them._

 _The air was light and fragrant with the scent of flowers and rich soil. The sun was high in the cloudless sky, shining down on the Greene farm as Beth and Annette got down on their hands and knees in the dirt of the small, fenced-off patch. They were planting some of their favorite spring flowers today. Annette wore gardening gloves but Beth preferred to work bare-handed. Beth was telling her momma some pointless story – maybe about school or about the book she was reading. She couldn't quite remember, but Maggie had appeared behind them and gotten their attention._

" _Momma, I'm goin' into town with Daddy an' Shawn," she said, backpack slung over her shoulder._

" _Alright, tell your daddy to call me when y'all get there," Annette smiled over her shoulder, gloved hands dug into the black soil before her._

 _Maggie gave a nod and rushed off in the other direction, towards the house and the driveway. Annette called after her, "Love you!"_

" _Love you, too!" Maggie called back, jogging farther away and lifting one hand in a brief wave behind her._

 _Beth watched her big sister disappear into the distance before turning back to her momma, who was chuckling softly and shaking her head. Then she said, "Bethy, please hand me the dahlia seeds."_

 _Beth obliged and dropped her gardening trowel to reach over and grab one of the small, paper packets from the bucket behind her. As she dug through the pile to find the dahlias, she asked, "Momma, why doesn't Maggie wanna grow flowers with us anymore? It's been two summers since she planted her daisies."_

 _Annette took the packet being held out to her and carefully opened it. "I told you, honey, she's gettin' older. She's a teenager now, she doesn't wanna spend as much time with her old momma. She's gotta go out and spread her wings. Just like you will one day."_

 _Beth raised her eyebrows, watching as her mother carefully distributed seeds into the small holes she'd dug in the soil. "But… I don't think I_ _ **ever**_ _will. I'll always wanna garden with you."_

 _Annette chuckled and glanced over at her small daughter, smiling. "You're such a sweet girl. But things change. You'll get older, you'll want different things. That's just part of growin' up. It's okay, though – I'll_ _ **always**_ _be your momma."_

 _Beth pursed her lips and watched her mother carefully covering the seeds with soil. She looked back down to the row of small holes she'd dug in front of herself, but she was no longer thinking about what seeds she would place inside. "But… I don't think I wanna grow up."_

 _Annette laughed softly, continuing to cover the seeds. "You say that now, but in just a few years, you'll be_ _ **insisting**_ _you're old enough to make all your own decisions."_

 _Beth frowned and began digging through the bucket of seed packets again, deciding on what she wanted to plant. "Maggie don't know nothin'. She thinks she's so smart, but – sometimes, she's just a_ _ **jerk**_ _."_

" _Hey," her momma said, furrowing her brow and giving Beth a stern look. "Don't talk about your sister like that. We all have our flaws. But she's the only sister you have. You need to cherish her."_

 _Beth scoffed, pulling out a packet of daisy seeds. "She's only my_ _ **half**_ _-sister. That means I only have ta_ _ **half**_ _cherish her."_

 _Annette frowned deeply and stopped what she was doing to look at her daughter. Beth immediately regretted saying it – she'd known it was wrong when Shawn had said it one day. She should've known better than to repeat it. Her momma's stern look made her feel two inches tall._

" _There is no_ _ **half**_ _in this family, Bethany," her momma said firmly. "We are_ _ **family**_ _. Period. That's your only sister, and Shawn is your only brother. Maggie is_ _ **just**_ _as much my daughter as you are."_

 _Beth's face fell and she looked down to the seed packet in her dirty hands. "Sorry, Momma…"_

 _Annette pursed her lips and turned back to her work, continuing with her planting. Then she said, "Took five years before Maggie wanted ta call me mom. Or listen to me. She hated my guts when I married your daddy, and she didn't speak to me nearly the whole time I was pregnant with you… But look at her now. We grew to love each other… Your daddy an' I made our two broken families into one, whole family. Full of love, just like it_ _ **should**_ _be."_

 _Beth's mouth pulled upward in a small smile as she carefully distributed her seeds into the soil and listened to her momma talk. She'd already heard this story several times, about how Maggie didn't take well to Hershel remarrying after Maggie's mom passed away. Especially to a woman who was so much younger and already had an infant son. But Beth was too young to really remember any of the discourse. By the time she was old enough to remember, Maggie had grown quite fond of Annette and Shawn._

" _Everybody grows, Bethy," Annette said softly, and Beth looked over to see her mother inspecting a seed pinched between two gloved fingers. "Like these seeds we're planting. People are kinda like seeds."_

 _Beth furrowed her brow, her little mind working to try to make sense of her mother's metaphor. "What d'you mean?"_

 _Annette looked over at her daughter and smiled, placing the seed in the palm of her other gloved hand and pointing to it as she gently explained, "We all start out really small, but full of almost everything we need t'grow to our full potential. And if we get put in the right soil, with the nourishment and support we need, we can bloom into our most beautiful selves."_

 _A smile worked its way onto Beth's face as she watched her momma's soft eyes light up while she talked. Then she watched Annette gently place the seed into the last little hole she'd dug in the soil, and as she slowly covered it with dirt, she looked over at Beth._

" _And when we're seeds, life can be confusing. It can be tough, 'cause things change, an' sometimes you don't like the change," Annette continued, pushing over the last bit of soil and patting it down gently with her fingers. "It's dark under all that soil, and it can be scary. But you have to remember: when you feel scared, when you feel unsure, or like you're in the dark… When you feel buried, that just means you're_ _ **planted**_ _."_

 _Beth's heart fluttered a little and she smiled wider, watching her momma with admiration. Annette's wavy, brown hair peeked out from beneath her sunhat, shining in the afternoon sunlight._

" _And then… you bloom into a pretty flower. Right?" Beth asked._

 _Annette grinned and nodded, chuckling softly. "That's right, baby girl."_

* * *

After Daryl and Malachi's long talk on Monday night, the toddler seemed to feel better about the situation in their small apartment. He didn't have any more random outbursts directed at Beth or Daryl, though he did still have occasional toddler moments. Daryl seemed more at ease, too, and he and Beth had spent every evening, after Mal's bedtime, cuddling together on the couch.

On Tuesday evening, they all sat together in the living room and colored pictures with crayons and markers. Beth added a second drawing by Mal to the wall above her bed, and he insisted on keeping the drawing she'd done for him, as well. Then Daryl and Beth sat down together and helped Mal read through the first half of a Dr. Seuss book before switching to their usual routine of _Harry Potter_ chapters until bedtime.

She didn't bring up the subject of Lucy or his talks with Mal, and Daryl didn't bring it up either. But she noticed the slight difference in both boys, and she knew they were privately talking about Lucy a little bit every night. She also noticed that the photo beside Daryl's bed was still turned over, but there was a new photo taped above Mal's bed – one she'd never seen before, of his mother holding baby Malachi shortly after giving birth to him. Lucy's face was beaming with joy. A few inches to the right of the photo, Mal had taped up the drawing that Beth had made for him.

Since reading Jenny Jones' latest article, Beth had returned to adamantly checking all the news sites every few hours. The thought of all her daddy's secrets, the death penalty, and those _goddamn_ college applications kept haunting her. The only time she could really shake them was when she was with Daryl and Malachi. At night, lying next to Daryl, she struggled to quiet her mind. She began saying a silent prayer for her family – and for Jenny Jones – before she fell asleep each night. She wasn't sure if it would do any good, but it certainly made her feel a little better.

On Wednesday evening, when Daryl got home from work, he entered the apartment with Mal and Carol both in tow. And once they sent the toddler down the hall to the bedroom, Carol and Daryl briefly discussed Mal's day and his recent behavior. Beth was relieved to hear that Mal had lightened up with his questions to Carol, and that Carol thought what Daryl was doing would be good for both of them in the long run. Then Carol reminded Beth that her follow-up appointment with Dr. Dana was the next day, and they made plans to meet up in the morning and take the bus to the clinic.

Beth spent another normal evening with the boys. They ate dinner and cleaned up before playing card games together. Beth and Daryl tried their best to teach Mal the rules of a few different games, but he only had the patience for Go Fish. After they put him to bed, Daryl and Beth cuddled on the couch, whispering and quietly laughing with each other, sharing stories and jokes and inner thoughts while half-watching a movie. They retired to Beth's bed for a few hours, but when she woke up, Daryl had moved to his own room. She went back to sleep, but it was restless and uncomfortable.

On Thursday morning, she woke up with the boys and helped Daryl make coffee and breakfast. When they were done eating, Daryl took Mal across the hall to Carol's and then left for work. Beth showered and got ready for the day before grabbing what she needed – phone, sunglasses, a little cash – and heading out the door, locking up behind her and walking over to apartment 3B. She was a few minutes early, but Carol appeared to be ready when she answered the door.

Mal was sitting in the living room, watching _Paw Patrol_ with an array of toys spread out on the floor before him. Carol instructed him to pick up his things and get ready to leave while she walked around and gathered her purse and Mal's small backpack. A few minutes later, the three of them were leaving apartment 3B and descending the three flights of stairs to the lobby, reaching the front door and stepping out into the bright sunlight. The day was quickly growing hot, and Beth was glad she hadn't worn her jacket.

Mal chatted happily while they walked to the bus stop, asking where they were going and expressing his excitement that "Rosie" was with them. Carol told him they were going to the Bronx to run an errand and Mal squealed with delight.

"I _wuv_ the Bronx!" He declared. "Can we get lunch there?"

Carol chuckled and nodded. "Sure – if you behave yourself. Remember our rules for when we go out in public."

"Okay, okay!" Mal grinned.

The bus approached and they boarded, swiping Metro cards and finding empty seats toward the back. When it began moving, Carol opened up her purse and dug out a small iPad and some earbuds, handing them to Mal. He thanked her and put the earbuds in his ears, then sat back and began playing with the tablet computer. Within seconds, he was completely silent and focused on his game, tapping the screen while his tongue stuck out of his mouth in concentration.

"I kinda hate those things, but it keeps him occupied on long trips," Carol said, leaning back into her seat and looking over at Beth.

Beth nodded and glanced at Mal, who was oblivious to their conversation. "Whatever works."

Carol smiled and turned to gaze out the window for a moment. Beth gazed off toward the front of the bus, watching people through her sunglasses. As usual, no one was giving her a second glance. She was still grateful, but she couldn't stop wondering how long it would last. Should she take advantage of how invisible she still was before it all changed?

Carol's voice brought her back to the present, asking, "So, how have you been feeling?"

Beth turned her head to meet Carol's eyes, putting on a small smile. "Pretty good." _All things considered,_ she thought.

Carol raised her eyebrows expectantly. "No, I mean – with _everything_."

Beth shrugged and reassured her, "Yeah, pretty good. Honestly. There's still some stuff, some thoughts, I guess. But I don't feel so… _alone_ anymore." She didn't even have to lie for this one.

A smile slowly formed on Carol's face. "That's good to hear. You know, I'm always across the hall. If you ever feel like talking."

Beth nodded, giving a tight-lipped smile. "I know." _You probably just want me to spill all my secrets so you can warn Daryl that I'm trouble, though,_ she thought. Then she immediately felt guilty for thinking that way, because she knew that Carol really did care and mean well.

There was a long pause, then Carol asked, a little quieter, "You and Daryl abstained for two weeks – right?"

Beth blushed and glanced away to gaze toward the front of the bus again. "Yeah, of course."

Carol nodded, pressing her lips together. "Just making sure. Dana's gonna ask you the same thing, most likely."

Beth let out a deep breath through her nose and nodded stiffly, turning her head to look out the window instead. As they drove through neighborhoods and stopped every couple of miles to let people on and off, she noticed that Halloween decorations had begun to pop up all over the city in the last week. She thought about how the farm back in Georgia would be bare and undecorated for the first time in nearly twenty years. There was a faint aching in her chest.

Carol's lowered voice interrupted her train of thought again, and she turned her attention back to the older woman. "Have you put any thought into the Pill situation? She'll probably push more samples on you, too, just t'be safe."

Beth shrugged and replied quietly, "Sorta. I don't really wanna do the Pill. I figured I'd talk to her about the um, other options. When I see her."

Carol nodded and gave a reassuring smile. "I think that's a good idea."

Beth glanced over at Mal, who was still focused completely on the iPad in his hands. He occasionally grunted or made sounds of frustration as he played, but he didn't tear his eyes away from the screen for a second.

They passed over the East River on the Tri Borough Bridge, just like the last time they'd come to the Bronx. Carol was gazing out the window again, watching the miles of water pass beneath them, and Beth was doing the same. But she was thinking about where her head had been two weeks prior, and how much had changed since then. She was still mentally reeling from trying to process how quickly everything had happened. Was it really possible that it had only been one month since she'd watched her family dragged away in handcuffs? On the other hand – had it already been an _entire_ month? She knew she needed to be patient, that Jesus had given her a general timeframe. But she couldn't shake her slight disappointment, remembering how she'd thought she would be well away from American borders by now.

She glanced at Carol hesitantly, watching the older woman gaze out the window. She was silently itching to ask Carol what she knew – there was an impulsive urge to bring up what she'd said the other day. But the more she thought about it, the more she was sure that she'd just been hearing things. It would only make her look more suspicious if she brought it up, pointed it out, asked about it. She had to remind herself to remain seemingly oblivious; to look as innocent as possible at all times.

Besides, what was the likelihood that Carol had any idea who Beth really was? How would she have even found out?

Before long, the bus was approaching their stop, and Carol began coaxing Mal into gathering up the iPad and putting it away. He agreed without argument and when they reached their stop, the three of them got up together and left the bus, the toddler's hand grasped tightly in Carol's. They quickly found their way to their second bus stop, and as soon as they'd sat down, Carol pulled the iPad from her purse once more and handed it to Mal while he reached out eagerly for it.

They sat and waited for their next bus, a handful of other people lingering around them, waiting for the same bus. Carol peered down at the screen of the iPad in Mal's hand, watching as he played, and Beth pulled out her phone just to have something to do. She reflexively went through the news sites, checking them all for updates on her case. Of course, there was nothing. She made sure to keep the screen of her phone tilted away from Carol's line of vision, nonetheless.

As she absent-mindedly scrolled through political headlines on the CNN website, Carol spoke, and Beth looked over at her. "That's a pretty bracelet – is that new?"

Beth glanced down at her left wrist and the cross bracelet from Daryl. She immediately smiled when she thought of how he'd given it to her, and she replied, "Thanks. Yeah, it is – um, Daryl actually got it for me. He said it… reminded him of me."

She was blushing now but Carol was smiling softly, gazing at the bracelet again with a slightly different expression. She raised her eyebrows and met Beth's eyes. "He did? How sweet of him… Well, he really is smitten with you, huh?"

Beth smirked, still blushing, and shrugged bashfully. "Yeah, I guess so."

A couple seconds of awkward silence passed and she could feel another question coming. Thankfully, the bus was rumbling down the street toward them, and they stood up to wait for its arrival. Then they boarded, the two women finding empty seats together with room for Mal, who was still distracted with his iPad as Carol carried him through the slightly crowded vehicle.

The second bus ride was shorter, and it seemed to fly by while Beth reminisced about the past few nights with Daryl, beginning to think about the upcoming camping trip again. There was a flutter in her stomach at the idea of sleeping with him for the first time after two weeks of not much more than cuddling and kissing. She knew she'd absolutely _have_ to decide on a permanent birth control option today.

Even though she felt a pang of guilt for worrying about something so trivial when she _should_ be worrying about hiding from the law and the media. Then again, things were bound to get a little convoluted during a five-month waiting period; it felt like she was hanging in limbo, constantly waiting for something she wasn't entirely sure was coming.

 _I just have to be patient,_ she reminded herself, thinking of Jesus and what he'd told her weeks ago. All she could really do was try to prevent any _other_ problem that might occur, like the one that Jimmy had left her with.

She trailed behind Carol and Mal as they all got off the bus together, walking side-by-side down the sidewalk while Mal chatted animatedly, pointing out all his favorite features of the Bronx now that his iPad was tucked away. Within minutes, the familiar sign came into view: _Sanctuary Women's Clinic_. Carol pointed it out and asked Mal to read it, though he struggled. She helped him pronounce the letters while they approached the front door. As she pulled open the door and let Beth enter first, he was still trying to work it out, "Sank-two-airy."

The clinic was already decorated for Halloween – there were cartoon bat, ghost, and pumpkin decals stuck to the front door and windows, and inside, there were "cobwebs" and toy spiders hung in the corners of the room, with more cartoon ghosts and bats stuck to the walls. There was a full-size, plastic skeleton in the corner of the room, dressed in a witch's hat and robe, which Mal quickly pointed out with a laugh. And hanging above the " _Authorized Entrance Only_ " door was a decorative sign that read: _Enter If You Dare_. Beth couldn't help but to be reminded of how her momma would decorate back home. That aching in her chest appeared again. The TV in the corner of the room was playing the movie _Beetlejuice_ at a low volume. She smiled to herself when she saw the toy sign hanging above the thick glass of the front desk that read: _Please Don't Feed The Witch_.

After checking in with the woman sitting behind the thick glass of the front desk, Carol and Beth led Mal to an empty row of seats in the corner of the waiting room. Carol pulled the iPad and earbuds out again and handed them to the toddler, who quickly occupied himself and forgot about the boring waiting room. She picked up one of the magazines from the nearby table and began flipping through it while Beth peered around the room curiously, looking at all the decorations that had been added since she'd last visited.

"You think she likes Halloween?" Beth asked with a smirk, looking over at Carol.

Carol gazed back at Beth from over the magazine in her hands, smiling and chuckling quietly. "You could say that."

A few minutes later, a nurse appeared from behind the door that led to the exam rooms and called "Rosie's" name. Beth stood up and gave one last glance to Carol, who smiled reassuringly in return. Then Beth followed the nurse through the door and down the hall to an exam room (all of which were just as decorated for Halloween as the waiting room), where she was given a paper gown and instructed to strip from the waist down and wait. She did so after the nurse left the room, and it was only a few minutes before there was a knock on the door. Beth called out and Dr. Dana entered, a pleasant smile on her face and a clipboard in her hand. She also wore a handful of decorative Halloween pins on her white lab coat to accompany her usual silver name badge.

"Good to see you again, Rosie," she greeted, walking over to the small desk against the wall and taking a seat on the little, round stool in front of it.

"You, too," Beth smiled, feeling nervous even though she wasn't sure why. The hard part was already done, this would be easy. As she watched the doctor scribbling something down, Beth added, "I like your Halloween decorations. You really went all out."

She saw Dr. Hatfield smile and lift her eyes to meet Beth's, pen paused in her hand. "Oh, thanks! Halloween is my favorite holiday – drives some of the nurses crazy. Especially my receptionist. She hates that sign above her desk, but we all just think it's hilarious."

Beth laughed, smiling and feeling her anxiety beginning to melt away as she was reminded of how kind and understanding Dr. Dana had been last time. "I saw that – I thought it was funny, too."

Dr. Hatfield smiled and glanced down at her chart, eyes skimming over it as she made a quick scribble. Then she looked up and gazed at Beth with a more serious expression, studying her as she asked, "So, how have you been?"

Beth nodded. "Good. I mean – a lot better."

The doctor raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Mentally? Emotionally?"

Beth paused, then nodded again and spoke with a fair amount of confidence. "I definitely don't feel _nearly_ as hopeless as I did the first time I was here." She wasn't about to lie to a _doctor_.

Dr. Dana smiled, recognizing the tone in Beth's voice. "Right – not everything is going to be fixed in just two weeks," she said. "But so far, it sounds like they're going the way they should. I'm happy to hear it. And the rest of your tests all came back negative, though I wasn't really worried about that. Have you had any issues, complications, side effects? Anything of concern?"

Beth shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

The doctor scribbled something else down, then asked, "You finished all the antibiotics? The bleeding stopped? The pain went away? All your pregnancy symptoms have mostly disappeared?"

Beth nodded to each question. "Yeah, I took the last pill yesterday. An' I feel pretty much normal again." _As normal as I can get,_ she added silently.

"Great," Dr. Dana smiled, voice lifting cheerfully. Then she raised her eyebrows and looked into Beth's eyes with intent as she asked, "And you've abstained from sex this _whole_ time, right? And baths and swimming and whatever else?"

Beth smiled bashfully and tried to suppress the heat that was rising to her cheeks, nodding. "Yeah, of course."

Dr. Dana arched an eyebrow, lips pursed and pen paused over the clipboard.

Beth returned the look, smile fading. "Seriously. I did."

Then Dr. Hatfield smiled and nodded. "I know, I was just messing with you. I can tell you're smart. Now, on that note, let's discuss birth control. Have you done any research, or did you try the samples I sent?"

For the next few minutes, Beth explained what kinds of options she'd researched (when she wasn't scouring news sites over the past few days, she'd been looking into all the details of birth control options), asked about side effects, and mentioned her uncertainty of where she would be and what she might want in the next few months, let alone the next five or ten years. Dr. Dana nodded and smiled in understanding, answering all of Beth's questions and attempting to reassure her. Then she recommended some other choices, and by the time they were ready to do the pelvic exam, Beth had decided to forego the pills and opt for a birth control patch.

When the exam was over and Beth was sitting in her paper gown, Dr. Hatfield assured her that she'd healed properly and everything appeared normal. Then she stood and tucked the clipboard beneath her arm, explaining that she would go grab her prescription pad and some samples while Beth cleaned up and got dressed.

A few minutes later, Beth was sitting on the edge of the exam table, fully dressed again and waiting for the doctor to return. Dr. Dana entered the room after a brief knock, walking over and handing Beth a small, brown paper bag. She explained that it was a couple handfuls of patch samples as she went to the small desk and laid out her prescription pad, scribbling something down and ripping the top piece of paper off to hand it to Beth. She then explained that she was putting the prescription in Carol's name, so that she could fill it for "Rosie," and then she wouldn't have to worry about birth control for at least another year.

Beth sat on the table, legs dangling over the edge, and gazed down at the small piece of paper in one hand and the brown paper bag in the other. A part of her still couldn't believe that the nightmare Jimmy had left her with was finally over. Well, except for the terrifying memories and the haunting nightmares. Now she just had to make sure that she _never_ repeated those mistakes.

After a thorough discussion about how to properly use her new birth control and some assistance with her first application, as well as a stern reminder to return someday soon for a Pap smear ( _definitely not doing that,_ Beth thought), she expected Dr. Hatfield to say goodbye and send her on her way, or leave the room. But she didn't. Instead, the doctor walked over and took a seat on the little stool again, facing Beth. She folded her hands in her lap and gave a warm smile.

"So, how is everything _else_?" She asked.

Beth raised her eyebrows, gazing back at Dr. Dana incredulously. "Um, good…"

"I don't mean the physical stuff. I mean mentally. Emotionally. Is there anything you need to get out? I know it's not _all_ going to be okay, but do you truly feel… _better_?" The doctor elaborated, smile fading as she studied Beth.

Beth pressed her lips tightly together and nodded, eyes flicking toward the floor momentarily. "Yeah. No, I get it. I'm okay. I really do – I think I'm… gettin' there."

Dr. Dana's mouth formed a small smile again and she nodded. "That's right. I think we're _all_ 'getting there.' As long as we're getting _somewhere_ , though."

Beth swallowed hard, beginning to feel scrutinized beneath the fluorescent lights.

Dr. Hatfield hesitated, pausing like she was giving Beth a chance to speak again. Then she said gently, "You still have my info?" Beth nodded. "Okay, well my line is _always_ available if you need someone. Don't forget that. Wherever you think you may end up in the next few years. My number doesn't change, and I'm not going anywhere. Once a patient, always a patient."

Beth felt a pang of guilt and wasn't sure why. She nodded stiffly and attempted her best smile. She was fighting hard to suppress the strangest urge to burst into tears at the moment. But she managed to choke out, "Okay. Thank you, Doctor."

* * *

Beth walked through the Bronx neighborhoods with Carol and Mal, both women holding either of the toddler's hands. He excitedly pointed out all the sights and asked questions, but Beth mostly kept to herself and gazed around through her dark sunglasses. She had shown Carol the prescription on their way out of the clinic, and the older woman agreed to take them to a nearby pharmacy to get it filled before they found somewhere to have lunch.

There was a small pharmacy about a block away, and Beth kept Mal occupied near a display of toys while Carol went to the counter and got Beth's prescription filled. Less than fifteen minutes later, they were on their way out the door and back on the sidewalk, and the small paper bag in Beth's hand had become just a little bit heavier. Carol explained that they were walking to a Dominican restaurant a few blocks away, and then they would backtrack to the bus stop to head home. Mal squealed excitedly at the prospect of food, and the granola bar that Carol had given him in the waiting room of the clinic was apparently long forgotten.

It was barely past noon when they entered a small restaurant, the exterior appearing no different than the numerous other delis, markets, and bodegas along the sidewalk. It was larger when they walked inside, the floor made of black-and-white tile with a half-dozen or so tables and booths against the walls, about half of them filled with patrons for lunch. There was a counter at the far end to the left with a small line of people waiting in front of it, and the smell of food wafted all throughout. It was a mixture of all kinds of smells Beth didn't recognize, though it was quick to make her mouth water. The small diner reminded her of some of the old-fashioned restaurants she'd eaten in with her father when she was little, back in Georgia, when he'd take her out to run errands with him. But when they sat down at a table and began looking over menus, she quickly realized that the food served here was pretty much nothing like anything she'd eaten back home.

All the signs outside and inside the small establishment were in Spanish, with English in smaller font beneath. Beth looked over the menu while Mal and Carol discussed their food options, and a few minutes later, a server arrived with their drinks and asked for their food orders. Nearly every dish came with rice, and Beth wound up ordering a meal that came with plantains – which she'd admittedly never tried before. Though a lot of the menu appeared to be fried, and that comforted her when it came to choosing something. If growing up in the South had left her with anything, it was an undying love for fried foods and the comfort that they brought.

The server had brought over a small placemat and crayons for Mal to color with, and he quickly became engrossed in his newest masterpiece while jabbering about nearly every little thing that crossed his mind. Carol nodded and answered all his questions with patience, and when he finally grew bored and quieted down, she turned her attention to Beth.

"Did the check-up go well?" Carol asked, smiling politely as she absent-mindedly fiddled with a couple of Mal's crayons lying on the table.

Beth nodded, hands resting in her lap as she ran a finger over the cool metal of the cross on her wrist. "Yeah. She said everything was good, and the patches she gave me should last me for like, a year."

"Good," Carol said. "I know it feels good t'finally be all done with _that_ whole thing."

"Yeah, definitely," Beth agreed, taking a small sip from the water glass in front of her.

"Did you tell him?" Carol asked, eyes flicking to Mal momentarily to assure that the toddler was still engrossed in his coloring, alluding to Daryl without saying his name aloud. Then she gave Beth a meaningful look and elaborated, "Everything you told me…?"

Beth nodded. She looked down at the tabletop awkwardly, one hand still wrapped around her glass of water, briefly thinking back on when she told Daryl about the pregnancy Jimmy had left her with. "Yeah, um… he basically told me the same thing that… you did."

"I wouldn't have expected anything else," Carol said. "I dunno if it means more hearing it from him, but I can assure you, he only said it because he means it. And because it's true."

Beth nodded, lips pursed as she avoided Carol's scrutinizing gaze. Then she muttered, "Yeah. I s'pose."

Carol could sense Beth's apprehension to delve into the topic any farther, though, and quickly changed the subject. "You excited for the camping trip? Sounds like you guys will have a lotta fun."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Beth's mouth as she thought about the upcoming trip, and getting far away from the city and all the people for a couple of days. She nodded and met Carol's eyes again, replying, "Yeah, really excited. It's been ages since I've been camping."

Carol took a sip of her Coke and asked, "You've probably never been to the Catskills, huh?"

Beth shook her head. "Nope. It'll be my first time."

"It's beautiful up there," Carol said. "And so quiet. You're gonna love it."

A few seconds later, the food arrived, and the server laid out three plates on the table. They all thanked him and began digging into their food as he walked away. Mal immediately forgot about his placemat and crayons, eagerly grabbing one of the boneless, fried chicken chunks and taking a bite. Carol had ordered a plate of fried pork and rice, and Beth's mouth began to water just looking down at her own plate of roasted chicken, rice, and fried plantains. They all grew quiet as they ate – except for Mal, who was loudly enjoying his food and had to be scolded for talking with his mouth full at least three times.

Beth was mostly focused on the new, savory tastes she was experiencing, stifling her laughter at Mal's outbursts. It seemed that getting some food in their bellies worked to improve everyone's moods, and lighten whatever tension might've been lingering between the two women. Beth quickly decided that she liked plantains, and she began thinking about how she could include some in dinner sometime for Daryl and Mal. She wondered if Daryl would even like them, but then she figured he'd probably had them before, considering how long he'd been living in the city. She made a mental note to ask him sometime.

She felt Carol glancing at her, and got the sense that another series of curious questions was looming around the corner. Since the odd feeling she'd had about Carol knowing something more than she was saying, Beth had grown just a little more anxious each time the older woman tried to start a conversation. When was she going to confront Beth? When was she going to bring up whatever she knew, or interrogate Beth about it? Was she waiting until Mal wasn't present?

Or maybe she didn't know anything. Maybe it was just the paranoia again, combined with the odd interactions Beth had had with Tobin. Maybe it was all in her head, and she was once again making something out of nothing. She was still almost certain that she'd simply misheard Carol, because there was just no plausible way that the other woman would know "Rosie's" real name - let alone that she'd slip up and nearly call her by it.

But then Beth started to wonder… if Carol really did slip up that easily, and had somehow kept something so major to herself, then maybe Beth could flip the script on her. Maybe she could be the one to ask "casual" questions, try to start a conversation. Maybe it would reveal some sort of tell-tale sign or clue that could assure Beth she was being paranoid… or not. Plus, she still couldn't shake the feeling that Tobin was someone to worry about, and she wanted to grasp at any chance to find out more about him without having to talk to him directly.

If nothing else, it would keep the subject of conversation away from Beth and Daryl's personal life, and it would hopefully keep Beth from having to form any more lies on the spot.

"So you and Tobin are gettin' away for the weekend, too?" She said, paused with the fork held in her hand as she watched Carol chewing a bite of pork and meeting her gaze. "You said you're gonna visit his family?"

Carol nodded, smiling and taking a quick sip of Coke to wash down her food. Then she replied, "Yeah, Charlie's really close with her grandparents an' Tobin always spends the weekend at their house for their anniversary. I kinda thought it'd be nice for me an' Sophia to get outta the city for a couple days."

Beth chewed and swallowed a small bite of rice, studying Carol's face as she talked. The older woman looked almost wistful, content as she talked about Tobin and his daughter.

 _Well, Daryl's not the only one that's "smitten" with someone new_ , Beth thought.

Then she asked, as casually as she could manage, "What'd you say it's called – Westchester? Isn't he from Virginia?"

Carol's smile flickered and she nodded curtly, glancing down at her plate to stab her fork into a piece of meat. "Yeah, Westchester. It's not far away. His parents moved there after they retired. But um, he grew up in some small town in Virginia. Moved to the city shortly before Charlie was born, I believe."

 _Then why did he look at me like he knew me from somewhere_? Beth wanted to ask. But she didn't.

"Oh, cool," she mumbled, unsure of how else to pry without seeming like she was prying. And if she asked too many questions, Carol would just ask her questions in return, and it'd turn into another therapy session. So she quickly stuffed a large bite of rice into her mouth and looked down at her plate.

The older woman made another casual comment, "He's a small town guy at heart – kind of a homebody. Spends almost all his free time reading. An' he reads just about _anything_."

Before Beth had the chance to muster up enough courage and ask Carol to elaborate on what exactly that was supposed to mean, Mal interjected, "Tobin is _tall_! Um, Carol um, I'm full. An' I gotta pee."

Carol set down her fork and quickly helped to wipe off his face and hands before leading him to a door at the other end of the establishment labelled "Restrooms." Beth sat alone at the table, pushing around the last few bites of her chicken while thinking about just how much she didn't know about Tobin. She certainly hadn't missed the slight difference that his introduction had brought about. And Carol could probably see right through her anyway, like she always did – Beth was almost willing to bet that Tobin had somehow given Carol the last puzzle piece she needed or something. Beth realized she didn't even know what the guy did for a living – he could be some kind of reporter, maybe like Jenny Jones. Or, if he "reads" a lot, maybe he was an author, like true crime or investigations? Was it possible that he knew exactly who Beth was, recognized her and pointed it out to Carol?

 _And then what – he kept the secret this whole time? And so did she?_ Beth asked herself, scoffing quietly and shaking her head as she moved lukewarm pieces of rice around her plate with the fork. _They would never… If they knew, they would call the police and turn me in. They'd step in to protect Daryl and Mal. I'd have been arrested by now._

She was in a constant battle with herself. Carol and Tobin and so many other things set her nerves on edge and made her question everything around her. But then if she thought about it long enough, questioned it more thoroughly, she'd start to feel insane. She had a way of talking herself in and out of the same holes over and over again. Convincing herself that she was paranoid and then turning around to question if she was being too careless at the same time.

Carol and Mal returned a few minutes later, and it seemed that they were just as done eating as Beth. They all gathered their things together, and Carol took Mal to wait outside the door while Beth made her own trip to the restroom. On her way out, she slipped a large tip for the server under one of their empty plates on the table, then pushed her sunglasses higher up on her nose and left the small restaurant to join Carol and Mal on the sidewalk.

On the trip home, between the brief walks to the bus stops and the two long rides on crowded buses, Mal spent most of his time playing with the iPad while his eyelids drooped lower and lower. Carol didn't attempt to make casual conversation again, and neither did Beth. They both seemed tired from their excursion and focused on getting back to the East Village quickly. The older woman mostly kept an eye on Mal while half-heartedly reading a paperback novel from her purse, making comments here and there about how the toddler would be more than ready for his nap by the time they got home. And Beth discreetly checked the news sites again, then forced herself to stuff the phone away in her pocket and observe the people around her instead.

When they stepped off their last bus, the trio walked at a leisurely pace down the sidewalk toward the apartment building. Mal was walking much slower than usual and asking very few questions, tiny hand loosely held in Carol's. The older woman pointed to some of the buildings and businesses as they walked, throwing out interesting facts and mini history lessons. Beth didn't hate it, and while she listened to Carol talk, she gazed around at the buildings and down at Mal. She was silently thankful that the toddler had come along, because she was pretty sure that he was most of the reason Carol had been so quiet and discreet during their excursion. Neither of them knew what kind of things he would pick up on or ask about, or repeat later on. It certainly helped Beth to watch what she spoke about when he was around. Or maybe Daryl had said something to Carol to make her back off?

 _Doubtful,_ Beth thought. _Maybe she's just waiting for a better time…_

Despite her better judgment, Beth allowed herself to begin feeling slightly comfortable in Carol's presence. It helped that they were nearly back to the apartment building, and that meant that Beth would have an easy way out if Carol began to get preachy. But for now, she relaxed and smiled, listening to Carol talk and watching Mal toddle down the sidewalk between them. How much longer could she walk out in the open like this, in broad daylight with nothing more than sunglasses hiding her face? Even though she knew she wasn't _really_ free yet, she _felt_ free, in a way. Like she had to appreciate it even more to make up for Daddy, Maggie, and Glenn.

The lobby of the apartment building was empty when they walked through, and Carol said hello to the only tenant that they passed on the walk up. When they reached the hallway, Beth moved to walk toward the door to apartment 3A while Carol and Mal were walking toward 3B. But before Beth could get out the "thanks for taking me, I'll see you tomorrow" that she had prepared, Carol was stopping in front of the door to 3B and giving Beth a quizzical look.

"Aren't you coming in?" Carol asked.

Beth stood frozen, her goodbyes still sitting on the tip of her tongue. "Oh – um, I guess…"

Carol gestured toward the apartment door and said, "I was gonna make some tea. Don't you want some?"

Beth shrugged, feeling awkward as she stood in the middle of the hallway. Carol unlocked the front door and pushed it open, guiding Mal inside and then stepping aside to give Beth an expectant look. The fear of being rude quickly overshadowed the fear of another lecture, and Beth silently shuffled into apartment 3B behind Mal. She told herself she could accept a mug of tea and then leave.

The inside of Carol and Sophia's apartment smelled like fresh linen with a hint of something recently baked, as it normally did. After unloading her and Mal's things, Carol went to the kitchen and prepared the tea kettle while Mal asked "Rosie" a dozen questions pertaining to what she thought about the Bronx, asking if she liked it as much as he did. Once Carol had the water boiling and managed to settle Mal down, with some help from Beth, she got him ready for naptime and took him to the bedroom.

Beth set down her little paper bag on the countertop and took a seat at the bar of the kitchen, trying not to get too settled in as she thought about the last time she'd been in this spot, when she'd allowed Carol to open her up and shrink her head. She didn't need that, especially now. She had enough guilt to bear, and she already knew what she needed to do when it came to Daryl and Mal. She didn't need someone constantly pestering her about it. Or prying into the situation. And as for the rest of her problems – well, even if this woman somehow knew more than she should, there was no way she knew _everything_. So there was no way she could give Beth any kind of advice that would _really_ help right now.

While she waited for Carol to return from putting Mal down for his nap, she pulled out her phone and checked the news sites for updates once again. That constant pain in her gut had returned and even though a part of her had gotten what she wanted when Jenny Jones posted a new article, all the other parts of her were set on edge. Like she could feel the storm coming in her bones, but she couldn't pinpoint where it would be coming from.

Was anyone paying attention to Mrs. Jones? Or to the Greenes' case? The headlines said no, but Beth couldn't shake off how unsettling it had been to read about the "dozens" of tips that Jenny Jones had been sent after posting her first article. And now Beth could only begin to imagine how many more tips the journalist would be getting after that whopper of a follow-up piece. What if one of those tips happened to lead them right to Beth?

She made a mental note to give Dale and Irma a call soon. She'd received a text message from them a few days ago, but she needed to reassure herself that they were still oblivious. And safe.

Carol returned a few minutes later, just in time to catch the kettle as it began to whistle. Beth put her phone away and watched silently as the older woman hummed to herself and prepared two mugs of tea. The TV wasn't on in the living room, so the apartment was nearly silent except for the low buzz of city noise drifting in through the half-open window. Beth sat quietly, anxiously anticipating whatever "small talk" Carol was about to make.

"Now that Mal's asleep, d'you want a cookie?" Carol asked with a playful half-smile, walking over and carefully setting a full mug of steaming tea on the countertop in front of Beth.

"Sure," Beth agreed, reaching out to slide the mug a bit closer.

Carol smiled and returned to the other side of the kitchen, grabbing a covered plate and pulling off its wrapping to reveal an array of fresh cookies. She walked over and set the plate down near Beth's mug. "White macadamia nut. You're not allergic, are you?"

"Nah," Beth shook her head and reached out to pluck a cookie from the top of the pile, glancing it over before taking a small bite. It was actually better than her momma's this time. But her momma had never liked macadamia nuts much – even though her daddy loved them.

Carol brought her own mug of tea over to the bar and stood across from Beth, grabbing a cookie for herself after setting out a small stack of napkins. Beth met Carol's eyes when she looked up and the older woman smiled warmly.

"Edible?" She asked, one hand cupping her mug and the other holding a cookie.

Beth nodded, quickly swallowing the bit of food in her mouth. "Delicious. Thanks."

"Glad you like 'em," Carol said, carefully sipping her tea before nibbling at her cookie.

As they quietly snacked and sipped tea, Beth glanced over toward the fridge and spotted a photo stuck under two magnets on the door. She looked back to Carol and pointed to the photo while asking, "Is that you an' Tobin?"

Carol turned her head and looked to where Beth was pointing, immediately smiling. She nodded and set down her mug and cookie, walking over to slip the photo out from beneath the magnets, along with another photo next to it. "Oh, yeah. We did one a those silly photo booths at the mall," she explained.

She brought them over and set them down to slide them across the counter and show Beth, who gazed down with a small smile.

"We did one together, and then the girls got in for one," Carol explained, her eyes lighting up as she spoke and pointed to the small photostrip of her and Tobin in four different frames, then pointed to the other photostrip, which had Sophia and Charlie squeezed into the booth with their parents and making goofy faces. "I love that last one – Sophia looks so happy."

Beth looked down at the last photo on the second strip and saw Sophia's smiling face as she sat squeezed between Carol, Charlie, and Tobin, her arms slung collectively over their shoulders.

Beth looked up and saw Carol gazing down at the photostrip with adoration for a second, then said, "You all look really happy."

Carol's smile briefly widened and she chuckled softly, picking up the photos again and walking over to return them to their spots on the door of the fridge. "We've been havin' a lotta fun together. I dunno if it'll last, but I've got a good feeling about it so far."

Beth couldn't help but notice, and respect, Carol's slight pessimism – or realism, rather. The other woman returned to her mug of tea and half-eaten cookie, and Beth asked her, "Are you seein' him later?" She was trying to be discreet as she inched her way into finding out more about Tobin, attempting to sound like she was taking the initiative to make conversation for once.

Carol shrugged, taking another sip of tea to follow the last bite of her cookie. She glanced behind her at the clock on the microwave, then back to Beth, and said, "Maybe. I don't ask him to, but he and Charlie have been coming over t'have dinner with us every other night or so. I think they might stay home tonight an' pack so we can leave tomorrow. We'll be spending the whole weekend together anyway."

Beth smiled, sensing the genuine excitement and contentment in Carol's tone. She briefly wondered if this newfound love could affect how Carol viewed Beth and Daryl's situation – and if it could, hopefully it would be for the better. "If you don't ask him an' he does it anyway, that's a good sign, right? That means he really likes bein' around you."

Carol smirked and shrugged bashfully. "Yeah. I suppose it does. Good thing, 'cause I really like being around him, too."

Beth chuckled softly and took a long sip of her tea, spotting Carol doing the same across from her. Then she asked, "So where does he work?" She hoped it actually sounded as casual as it had in her own ears.

Carol didn't seem to second-guess it, though, because she lowered her mug and replied, "He's an architect. His office is up in Midtown. He designed a couple buildings in the Upper East Side, and now he's working on his first skyscraper."

Beth raised her eyebrows in interest. "Woah – a skyscraper? Like, one that will be a part of the skyline or somethin'?"

Carol nodded, smiling. "Oh yeah. Pretty cool, huh?"

Beth nodded and felt her shoulders subconsciously relaxing, her jaw gradually unclenching. "Very," she said, taking another long sip of tea.

 _So he's an architect that reads a lot,_ she thought. _Which means… absolutely nothing at all. There's billions of things to "read" out there, doesn't mean he's reading the Georgia news articles about a teenage fugitive. What are the chances of that anyway? Half a million to one, at least? Maybe Carol's just trying to trick me into spilling my soul. Or she's trying to call my bluff. Either way, it's not gonna work. Acting like you know more than you do? Oldest trick in the book. I won't fall for it._

"What about you?" Carol asked, and Beth looked at her quizzically. "Are you thinking about lookin' into a job or anything? Maybe not now, but in the near future."

Beth shrugged, caught off-guard. She'd hoped Clementine would be the only one to inquire about those things, but it seemed Carol was finding another way to weasel out new information. "Maybe – yeah, in the near future."

"Well, since you're staying," Carol said, giving Beth a look that appeared nearly expectant. "Right?"

 _This again?_ Beth thought, quickly nodding. _Does she still think I'm gonna disappear on Daryl and Mal?_ "'Course I am. At least for a while. I, uh – yeah, I'm thinkin' about a job. And school. But that's for… later."

Carol nodded, sipping her tea and studying Beth's face as she spoke. Then she gave a tight-lipped smile and said, "Yeah. I understand. But – a while? What's the plan later on down the road?"

Beth pushed back her rising anxiety and maintained her composure, refusing to let any symptoms of doubt show through in her expression. Even though it was a pretty damn good question being posed. What _was_ the plan? She was still putting it off. The days slowly ticked by and each night, Beth told herself it wasn't the right time yet. Even though there'd been countless opportunities, and even more urges.

But she tried not to think about all that as she shrugged and replied, "I dunno. I mean, I'm not just gonna _disappear_. If that's what you think."

Carol shook her head, half-smiling like Beth was being silly. "I don't. I was just wondering if this city was the place you intended to be for the next step of the journey you're taking."

Beth paused, processing Carol's words, and once again fought to ignore the deeper truth lying behind them. She took a sip of tea and averted her gaze away from the older woman's, down at the countertop. "Not exactly. But it's not like I had a better plan. Seems like as good a place as any."

" _Mm-hmm_ , that may be so," Carol replied, smiling knowingly as she continued to study Beth's face. "But what about when you're ready ta move on?"

Beth furrowed her brow and flicked her eyes up to meet Carol's gaze again. "Move on?"

Carol shrugged, as if it were just another thought that had crossed her mind and been vocalized. "Well, you're young, an' it doesn't seem like you exactly _chose_ to come here. But here you are. And it's all nice for now, but things will change. You're not the type t'be drawn to the city life – I've known lots of people like you, and they all ended up moving on from the city after a while."

Beth swallowed and her fingers curled tightly into the handle of the mug in front of her, but she didn't look away from Carol's gently scrutinizing gaze. "Things might change, but… I don't think you've known anybody like me."

She wasn't sure where that had come from. It was the first response that had escaped from her lips. And at first, she was afraid it was the wrong thing to have said. Carol's eyes narrowed and Beth could feel the older woman staring right through her.

But then Carol's expression softened. She smirked and said, "I think you might be right about that… You know, I'm only askin' because I care about you, too. I know you didn't ask me to, but neither did Daryl. And I'm very protective of him and Mal. But I'm worried about you, as well… You're part of our family now. There's no walking out and cutting ties at this point."

Beth tried not to let this sentiment sink in too deeply. She'd already let herself get too attached to Daryl and Mal, she didn't need to be planting more roots that would inevitably be ripped from the soil. She'd already lost her mother, she didn't need to find any replacements to eventually lose, too. "I know. I just – we know what we're doin'. You don't have to worry so much. I'm… I couldn't just _walk_ _away_. Not after all this." Unfortunately, that was the truth.

Carol nodded and gazed at Beth with understanding and a hint of satisfaction, then said, "If you need to leave… ya know, I won't be the one ta stop you. I don't expect Daryl and Mal to live across the hall forever. But Daryl isn't all that fond of change, and Mal always comes first when considering something like that."

Beth furrowed her brow. "I know that, but I'm – I'm not _goin'_ anywhere."

Carol pressed her lips tightly together and nodded, then said, "Not now, I know. But eventually… I'm just tellin' you what t'be ready for. It's not something that can be done on a whim, like comin' to New York. And it might take some convincing, but by now, I'm pretty sure Daryl would be willing t'follow you just about _anywhere_."

Beth's breath briefly caught in her throat and she tried to smile like it was a joke, chuckling softly while her fingers curled tighter around the handle of her mug once again. "You think – what, that me an' Daryl are gonna run off together or somethin'?"

Carol smiled knowingly, but there was no hint of a joke in her expression. She shrugged and took a leisurely sip of her tea before replying, "I wouldn't call it 'running off together.' More like, starting a new life for yourselves… It was only a matter of time for him – and you, too… Getting out was the first step. I guess finding Daryl was the next. An' now you have the future t'look forward to."

The dull pain in Beth's gut struck her a little harder and she quickly lifted the mug of tea to her lips to hide the look of contemplation crossing her face. _Fuck_ , she thought. _Is Carol right? Well, of course she is. But she has no idea how impossible the idea actually is. How could I ever convince Daryl to leave with me? Let alone trust me. Especially once he knows everything._

Carol could still see how Beth was processing what she'd said, despite Beth's efforts to conceal it. As Beth lowered her mug back down and gazed at the countertop thoughtfully, Carol added, "It's a little more complicated because Mal is involved, and you can't forget that. You can't run off just anywhere with a toddler – but I know that _you_ know that. An' I won't deny that he's fallen in love with you… I can tell you love him, too."

"I do," Beth confirmed without hesitation, thinking of the small, blond boy as she looked down to stare at the small pool of tea in the bottom of her mug. It still baffled her how Carol almost always knew the exact things to say to spur a new train of thought inside her head. Although it wasn't entirely new – it was something she'd mulled over more than once. But it was also something she had no way of confronting any time soon. So, for just a second, she lowered her thick walls and asked tentatively, while still staring down into her tea, "You – you really think Daryl would leave with me?"

Shit, this woman was getting her to open up when she'd been so determined to stay quiet. Maybe Carol really was made out for counseling work.

There was a longer silence than Beth had anticipated, and she looked up to see Carol studying her again. Then the gray-haired woman said, "I do. But only if you give him the chance to accommodate. And to make his own decision."

Beth licked her lips, then asked softly, "His own decision?"

Carol nodded. "Like I told you before: he has ta be given a choice. He won't agree to anything if the decision was made for him. If you wanna leave, or move on, you need to tell him as soon as you've decided. He's the kind of guy that would rather walk away than make a decision based on being backed into a corner… He won't even _consider_ an ultimatum."

Beth didn't need reminded – she still clearly remembered all the things Carol had told her before. Especially when it came to Daryl. And even though she knew the conversation was beginning to tread into dangerous territory, she couldn't resist her own curiosity. This woman knew Daryl better than anyone, after all. And if Beth was going to prepare herself and eventually admit the _entire_ truth to him, then she needed to know how he might react and how she should approach it.

And she knew Carol was right. As usual. She knew that Daryl would never, ever, _ever_ speak to her again if she waited until the last minute to explain to him that she was a wanted fugitive who needed to flee the country. She wasn't even sure he'd speak to her again if she told him now. But she'd have to face the music eventually, because there was simply no keeping it from him forever. And she'd be damned if she resorted to using an ultimatum – she knew better without having to be told.

"I don't… _want_ to come in an' change everything," she mumbled, the words pouring from her like water dribbling from her lips. Carol gazed down at her with a soft empathy and it only proved to make Beth's mouth move more freely. "I don't wanna interrupt the good thing they have going, or the life that Daryl's worked so hard ta make. But I don't want – I _can't_ picture my life without them anymore."

Carol arched an eyebrow and said, "Then tell him that. I don't think he wants t'live in the city forever either. He's not cut out for it, just like you. But he's made the best of it for Mal's sake… Maybe he'll be open to some new options."

 _Maybe,_ Beth thought. _If this were a normal relationship and I really did just want to move somewhere slower paced. And not because I'm running from the law. But that's not the case. So neither of us has any idea how he'll actually react._

"Maybe," she mumbled uncertainly, dragging her eyes away from Carol's and lifting the mug in her hand to drain its last drops of tea.

"You've got an awful lotta doubt for having been so sure," Carol remarked, which immediately spurred a quizzical look from Beth. Carol continued, "Well, you guys have been gettin' pretty close, right? He hasn't told me everything, but I know he opened up t'you about some pretty important stuff. I don't know what goes on behind closed doors, but I can admit when I'm wrong – and I was wrong when I thought that the two of you would be bad for each other."

Beth swallowed hard and chewed on her bottom lip, staring down at her empty mug. Those were certainly not the words she'd expected to hear from Carol, but she had to admit that it was slightly relieving. Even though she and Daryl definitely didn't need this woman's approval, it was comforting to see that Carol was beginning to lend her support.

Carol continued, "There's still a lotta healing that can only be done on your own – probably with a lot of self-reflection an' therapy. But… no matter what I said to him, he _always_ refused t'talk to Mal about his mother. An' then you show up and three weeks later, he's bringing out pictures and poems and answering all the kid's questions without getting even _slightly_ angry… Something clicked. He's happier with you around."

Beth finally looked up and met Carol's piercing blue eyes. She could see the older woman studying her, trying to figure her out, or figure out what kind of secret voodoo witchcraft she'd worked on Daryl.

Or maybe she was just grateful to see that _someone_ had finally gotten through.

"He… _trusts_ you," Carol finished quietly, arching an eyebrow. "So does Mal."

Beth stopped chewing on her lip and mumbled, "I know. 'Cause _I_ trust _them_."

"Do you?" Carol asked without missing a beat. She took a tight-lipped sip from the mug in her hand.

Beth's lips parted weakly, a knot quickly beginning to form in her throat. "Of course I do."

Carol nodded, fiddling with the string of her teabag on the lip of the mug. There was a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she looked into Beth's eyes and said, "Then you need t'tell him _everything_ – whatever it is keeping you on edge and so terrified. Letting your fear take the wheel for too long will _not_ end well."

Beth's mouth went dry and she wished there were more tea in her mug. _What do you know?_ She silently asked, staring back at Carol and refusing to let her uncertainty show through. Even though, for the twentieth time, the older woman was fucking _right_. It was like the advice Irma had given her two weeks ago: she couldn't let the fear make all her decisions for her.

And what else, besides fear, had been keeping her from telling Daryl the truth?

Beth managed to keep her voice steady despite the roughness in her throat as she muttered, "There's some things that I… _can't_ explain. To _anybody_. I'm not scared anymore, I just – I don't wanna risk ruining things… We _both_ wanna leave our pasts behind us."

Maybe if she could convince Carol that she wasn't scared, she could eventually convince herself, too. It was worth a try.

Carol listened with a hint of sympathy in her eyes. But then her expression grew stern, and she said plainly, "The only thing that can really _ruin_ this is keeping secrets. Especially when those secrets can come back and bite you in the ass… He trusts you in a way that – well, in a way that he hasn't trusted somebody fer a _long_ time. Don't risk it over bein' too _scared_ to confront your past. From now on, whatever affects you will wind up affecting those boys, too."

Beth swallowed past the knot in her throat and nodded, struggling to continue maintaining eye contact. She really _was_ tired of being too scared to act – if Carol knew something, why didn't she just _say_ something already? Why keep beating around the bush like this, repeating herself and going over the same old lines? Hinting at what she knew without stating it?

The words formed and poured out before Beth could convince herself to bite them back, returning the intensity in Carol's gaze, "I dunno what exactly you think I'm hiding, but I _know_ all this already. You're gettin' redundant. And I can assure you, I'll deal with it in due time. But you have _no_ idea what I'm really dealing with – it's not so simple as just explaining it and _movin'_ on. The whole situation – it ain't so black-'n-white."

Carol appeared nonplussed, lifting the mug to her lips and draining the last of her tea before setting it down gently on the countertop and folding her hands together. Then she sighed and said, "It never is, is it?"

She shrugged, and Beth was unsure of how to react as she watched the older woman gather their empty mugs and wadded napkins. While Carol tossed the napkins in the trash and set the mugs in the sink, filling them with water, she added simply, "I know, I repeat myself a lot. It's a bad habit I never could quite seem t'shake. Ed never listened, so I became a nag… He made me a lotta things I never wanted t'be." She turned her head to look back at Beth again, something meaningful in her gaze. "Wait too long, and you'll do the same to Daryl. He's falling for who he thinks you are now. He knows there's skeletons you don't wanna confront, but he thinks they're nothing more than _skeletons_ … He won't be prepared for whatever blood-thirsty beast eventually comes barreling outta yer closet."

Beth chewed the inside of her cheek, eyes following Carol as she moved around the kitchen to clean up the mugs and tea kettle. By the time she returned to her spot across from Beth at the bar a few seconds later, Beth had mustered up her courage and formed the question in her head.

When Carol's eyes met hers again, Beth stared back intently and asked, "What _do_ you think I'm hiding?"

Carol was almost annoyingly unaffected by anything Beth had to say, and she simply shrugged.

When she didn't respond after a couple of long seconds, Beth said, "You seem pretty convinced that I've got some kinda long con going. How much d'you think I even _could_ lie about?" She hesitated for a split-second, then added, "Is that why you almost called me somethin' else the other day? You think I've been lyin' about my name, of all things?" She immediately regretted pointing it out – she should've let it sit, acted like she hadn't noticed it. But _dammit_ , it had been bugging her.

Carol shook her head, smirking like it was funny. "No, I just had a little 'Mom moment' – I almost called Charlie by Sophia's name the other day, too. But I never said I wouldn't understand if you felt the need t'make a new identity when you came here."

Beth scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I didn't make a new _identity_ – I'm just layin' low."

Carol nodded, smirk fading. "Right. Well, if you don't trust me enough, I get it. But I think… you're _well_ past that point with Daryl. He deserves to know. _Everything_."

Beth cleared her throat, realizing her fingers were tracing the warm metal of the cross bracelet on her wrist. But she couldn't stop. Nor could she tear her eyes away from Carol's. She replied softly, "He will. He already – I haven't _lied_ to him. But everything else… I just need some time t'figure it out."

She couldn't be angry at Carol for her persistence and her prying. The older woman cared, and she was smart. Too smart. It frustrated Beth to no extent, but when she knew, deep down, that it was all _very_ true, the guilt quickly overshadowed any semblance of anger or resentment. She gazed down at her hands, at the cross reflecting the kitchen light.

If she was angry at anyone, it was herself. She'd reached the point where she was lying about lying to avoid getting caught lying – there was no end or beginning anymore to the webs she'd weaved, and she could no longer tell exactly which parts were falsified. Everything was a chain. A long, never-ending chain that gained new links every day and slowly wrapped itself tighter and tighter around Beth's body. She was immobilized, suffocating, slowly being crushed beneath the weight of her own lies.

Carol's gentle voice startled Beth from her thoughts, though she continued staring down at her hands as the older woman asked, "Doesn't it get exhausting, Rosie? You're dealing with a lot. All at once. You've been through a lot. More than most people have _ever_ experienced… I'm not sure that you really realize just how many decisions your trauma has made for you. Or how much you're taking on, being with a widower and his son, tryin' ta help them heal and heal yourself at the same time."

Beth swallowed, eyes glued to her bracelet. Tears threatened to push up from her throat, but she wouldn't allow them.

Carol added softly, "It's a heavy load for such a small girl."

Beth faintly remembered her mother's voice from a distant memory. She finally looked up and met Carol's eyes, gazing back at the older woman with a flame of resilience burning in her chest. "My momma used ta say… 'when you feel buried, you're just planted.' So… I'm planted. Pushin' through the soil is the hardest part."

Carol studied Beth with a contemplative expression, as if she saw something new in the young girl sitting before her that she hadn't noticed before. A faint smile ghosted across her lips and she nodded. "Your momma sounds like a smart woman."

Beth nodded, looking back down to the cross on her wrist. For the millionth time, she assured herself that Carol had _no idea_ what she was talking about when it came to the past that Beth was trying to escape. Or how much she could handle. She was strong. Stronger than Carol or anyone else could ever know.

 _No one_ could understand the position she was really in… Not even Daryl.

 **to be continued…**

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 **A/N:** Thanks for reading, following, favoriting, and if you're one of the few who bothers to review, thanks even more for that!  
So this chapter took place over a few days, and there are currently only a couple of days left in September. Next chapter will be heading quickly into the camping trip. And then? Well, I've already written half of _Detective Grimes III_. See ya next Sunday ;)  
Also, if you haven't already, make sure you listen to Emily Kinney's new album Oh, Jonathan. It gives me some serious Bethyl feels!


	56. you're the leaky sink of sentiment

**Warning:** There is explicit sexual content at the end of this chapter.  
Also: this chapter is long af but I won't apologize for it. I have a specific plan for the next few chapters and I won't allow that plan to make me skimp on the details!  
So get comfortable, maybe grab a snack, and make sure no one is reading over your shoulder when you get to the last couple thousand words ;)

* * *

 _ **you're the leaky sink of sentiment**_

Beth finally returned to apartment 3A shortly before Malachi woke up from his nap. She and Carol had thankfully wound up ending their conversation on a much lighter note, during which Beth's anxiety receded and she felt pretty sure that, even if Carol knew something, she wasn't going to _do_ anything. _Why_ , Beth didn't know, but she wasn't going to question it. When she left, Carol sent her home with a small plate of cookies and well wishes for their camping trip. She even reminded Beth to watch out for poison ivy and poison oak – though she admitted that she was pretty sure Daryl would be adamant enough for the both of them. And Beth agreed.

Beth didn't even realize she had a new text message from Daryl until she had gotten inside the apartment, taken off her shoes, put all her things away, and sat down on the couch to watch some TV. She checked the timestamp and saw that he'd texted her while she was engrossed in talking to Carol, and she quickly opened it to read:

 _Want me to pick up something for dinner? I'm starving. Worked through lunch today._

Beth furrowed her brow, wondering why he'd worked through lunch, and typed out a quick response to assure him that she would have a big dinner ready when he got home, asking if he had any requests. She didn't hear back from him again and assumed he was having a particularly busy day. So she relaxed on the couch and watched a couple reruns of _Bob's Burgers_ , grateful for a brief chance to zone out and stop dwelling on her massive pile of problems.

Once the sun started sinking lower outside and Beth could see the sky changing colors through the half-open window, she got up and began preparing dinner. With the TV at a low volume and the hum of rush hour in the city drifting in from outside, she sang to herself while moving around the kitchen. Her mind bounced around everywhere, dwelling on her talk with Carol, past conversations with Daryl, and distant memories of her momma. She thought about Dale and Irma again, reminding herself to call them and catch up. Maybe Irma would be happy to hear that Beth had found someone like Daryl to fall for. She could certainly use some reassurance about now. Obviously, her deepest desire was to call Maggie and speak to her again. Or better yet, to hear some good news from Jesus. But she knew that neither of those were happening anytime soon.

The clock in the kitchen read 6:04 when the front door opened and Daryl and Mal entered the small apartment. Just as Beth had planned, dinner was nearly ready, and the entire apartment smelled like spices and cooking oils. She set the stove on low and stepped away to help the boys unload from their day, offering Daryl a hand with the toddler, who was overly excited to be home, as usual.

Daryl took a loud whiff of the air and commented, "Damn, smells good in here. Whatcha cookin', good lookin'?"

Beth blushed lightly and giggled as she helped Mal out of his backpack straps. "Told ya I'd have supper ready when you got here. Why'd you work through lunch?"

He shrugged, hanging up his vest and picking his motorcycle helmet up from where he'd set it on the carpet. "'Cause me an' Dwight wanna leave a li'l early fer the trip. Gonna work through lunch tomorrow, too."

Beth furrowed her brow, frowning in disapproval. "So you guys just don't eat lunch? That's over eight hours without food, Daryl, that's not good for you."

Daryl chuckled like she was joking, reaching out to take Mal's backpack from her hand. "'S only one meal, it's fine. Worth it ta get a head start. I _would_ like ta get the camp set up before midnight, ya know."

Beth was about to argue but Mal quickly chirped up, tugging on Daryl's pant leg, "Dad, I'm hungwy! Rosie, did you cook?!"

Daryl put the backpack in Mal's hand and urged him toward the hallway. "Supper's ready, bud, but you ain't. Get back there an' change so we can eat. And put yer stuff where it goes."

Mal quickly nodded and grabbed his backpack before rushing off down the hall. The light in the bedroom at the end of the hall came on immediately after. Daryl moved to walk toward the hallway, pausing and facing Beth.

"Had yer appointment today, right?" He asked.

She nodded. They'd talked about it briefly over the last couple of days, and obviously Daryl had overheard her and Carol talking about it. But he hadn't pressed her about it or asked questions. Though he appeared concerned now, like he might've thought that something had gone wrong. She responded, "Yeah. It went well – an' I got on uh, birth control."

She lifted the hem of her T-shirt and lowered the waistline of her leggings to briefly show Daryl a peek of the small, flesh-colored patch stuck to her lower abdomen, half-covered by her panties.

He gazed down at it curiously, leaning down a bit to get a closer look, squinting like he was studying it. "That's it?"

She stifled a laugh and nodded, "Yep. I change it every week an' go without for the week of my – uh, monthly." She let the elastic of her pants snap back against her waist and the hem of her T-shirt fall back down.

" _Hmm_. Cool," he nodded and leaned back again, looking down at her. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and he raised his eyebrows, "So yer all good now…?"

Beth smiled back and nodded again. "Yeah, good as new – pretty much." She felt the heat beginning to rise to her cheeks again as she and Daryl exchanged a look that said they were both thinking the same thing.

He glanced away from her, down at the helmet in his hand, and muttered, "Good. How was the boy? He went with you an' Carol, didn't he?"

She laughed softly when she thought back on her day with Mal. "Yeah, he was good. We had lunch in the Bronx."

He met her gaze again and smirked. "Oh yeah, he told me. Sounds like he had a blast gettin' ta tag along."

Beth shrugged. "Can't say I didn't enjoy myself, too."

Without another word, Daryl reached out and gently took her arm, pulling her in closer to close the distance between them until their mouths were meeting in a soft kiss. She smiled against his lips and he snaked his free arm around her waist, kissing her deeper. She could tell this was what he'd _really_ been wanting to do – and she did, too. Then there was a rustling and a clatter from the bedroom at the end of the hall, and they quickly broke apart.

She giggled and playfully pushed him toward the hallway. "Hurry up an' get ready fer supper, it's about done."

The three of them sat down together at the small dining table several minutes later to plates full of food. Mal chatted excitedly about his day, even happier to have an experience that he had shared with "Rosie" and could tell his dad about. They all talked about the camping trip some more, sharing their mounting excitement for the next day. Beth tried not to let Carol's words resurface in her mind as she sat with the boys, smiling and enjoying their company. And for the most part, it worked. The constant pain in her gut felt relatively non-existent when she was with them.

After eating dinner and cleaning up, Daryl sat Mal down and practiced writing letters and numbers while Beth sat back and watched, offering encouragement whenever the toddler would turn and show her what he'd written. When he got bored with that, he moved on to playing with his toys, and Beth happily agreed when he asked if she would be the "majestic queen" for his imaginary adventure with Daryl. The three of them played together for what felt like not very long at all, and right after "Queen Rosaline" knighted the loyal "Werewolf Daryl" and "Elf Wizard Malachi," Daryl announced that it was officially bedtime. Mal whined a bit, but with some help from Beth, Daryl managed to coax him into putting his toys away and heading to the bedroom.

Beth did her final headlines check of the day while she waited for Daryl to join her on the couch. There was nothing new, as she expected, and by now, Jenny Jones' latest article had been bumped down and was no longer visible on the front page of the Georgia news' website. With every day that passed, Beth grew more curious as to why the national media wasn't picking up on her family's story. But she also reminded herself not to jinx it, and to just be thankful. Whatever reason it was keeping her face off of everyone's TV screens and social media newsfeeds, she was grateful for it. The only problem was that she couldn't help but wonder how long it would last.

Was the lack of media coverage temporary, too, just like most everything else? Or were they waiting until the story got _really_ good, and they had enough details to catch the attention of the masses? If that was the case, she could only pray that she was out of the country by then.

When Daryl joined her on the couch, all her worries quickly faded away. Before long, she was melting into the couch, and his arms, focusing on nothing else but the movie they were watching and the way he smelled. She'd anticipated a night of intimacy, seeing as it would be her first night officially healed. But Daryl seemed more tired than usual, and even though they kissed a few times, they didn't do more than cuddle as they lay together on the couch. Beth assumed he was extra tired from work and didn't push anything, reminding herself that they would have all weekend together. And surely, they'd have a chance to get alone for a little bit during that time. So when she glanced back at him, halfway through the movie, and saw that his eyes were shut and his mouth was hanging open, she smiled to herself and let him be. He snored softly while she finished watching the movie, and when it was done, she gently woke him up and led him to bed with her.

He followed and within seconds of his head hitting the pillow, he was back to sleep. Beth slept soundly beside him, awaking a few hours later to find him gone. She rolled over and breathed in the scent he'd left behind on the sheets and pillow, and then quickly fell back asleep.

When she awoke in the morning, the smell of coffee was filling the apartment, and she could hear the boys getting ready in the bathroom and their bedroom. She got up and helped Daryl make breakfast before seeing him and Mal out the front door for the day. She had wanted to ask him what his exact lunch plans for the day were, but he seemed preoccupied with getting himself and Mal ready for the day, and when he was walking out the door, he was still muttering about a checklist of things he had to get done before they could leave for the trip. She reminded him to let her know if she could help somehow, but he assured her that it was nothing for her to worry about and that he'd see her that evening.

Once the apartment was quiet and empty, Beth relaxed with her coffee and watched talk shows on TV before cleaning up and getting ready for the day. When she was done with that, it took less than twenty minutes to gather together everything she was going to pack for the Catskills. Daryl had told her that he had an extra duffel bag she could use, since the only bag she had wasn't big enough (and it was already full of money and evidence). So she set everything aside, prepared to be stuffed into a bag, and returned to sitting on the couch and watching TV.

The morning breeze coming in through the half-open window was cooler than it had been all week, filling the apartment with the faint scent of autumn. Beth checked the headlines, as was her routine once again. There was nothing new, and no notifications on her phone, which left her thinking about Dale and Irma.

She checked the time, assuring herself that they would be awake in their time zone, then dialed their number. She didn't know why, but her heart beat faster while she listened to the ringing on the other end, waiting for an answer.

At first, she thought she might've miscalculated the time difference and tried to call while they were sleeping. But then the ringing stopped, and Irma's voice came from the other end.

"Rosie? It's so good t'hear from you!"

Beth's heart immediately slowed and she smiled, phone pressed against her cheek. "Hey, Irma. I didn't wake you, did I?"

Irma chuckled. "Oh, goodness no! It's nearly nine a.m. here, we've been awake for hours!"

Beth laughed, a familiar warmth spreading through the inside of her chest. It almost felt like talking to someone back home. "Oh, good. I jus' wanted t'see how you guys were doin' – where are you right now?"

Dale's voice called out from somewhere near Irma on the other end, "Hi, Rosie!"

Irma chuckled and said, "That was Dale, if you couldn't tell. We're visiting some friends in Colorado – still in the Midwest. It's so beautiful out here, Rosie, I wish you could see it!"

"Tell Dale I said 'hi' back!" Beth swallowed back a small knot forming in her throat, still smiling. "I wish I could see it, too. What's it like? Are you close to the mountains?"

She listened and " _mm-hmm_ "ed as Irma described the beautiful house out in the country that she and Dale were visiting, talking about how they could see mountains in every direction and going on about how perfect the weather was. Then she explained that they were leaving in two days to head for Nevada, where they would be visiting a family member outside of Carson City for a few days, and then they would be spending a couple of days on the Las Vegas Strip while they did their tourist activities before staying with a friend who lived in a "very large mansion" on the outskirts of Las Vegas. Beth asked Irma if she and Dale planned on gambling and Irma giggled, admitting that they just might indulge a little bit.

Then Irma turned the conversation toward "Rosie," asking her, "How're things goin' in the big city? I was sure worried about ya for a bit there."

And now that Beth knew how much fun Dale and Irma were having and how smoothly their life was going without her, she wasn't sure that she wanted to burden the older woman with any sort of negative news. She'd probably worried the poor woman more than enough with their last phone conversation and her little bout of emotional turmoil. Even though part of her craved that connection – if her momma were alive, she'd ask _her_ what she was supposed to do when it came to telling Daryl the truth and helping the boys cope with losing Lucy. But the closest thing she had to someone like that now was Irma, or Carol. And she'd already decided not to let herself get attached to Carol like that. Or to trust her like that.

Beth figured that she could just tell Irma the good parts. Maybe the older woman would still have reassuring words for her, like last time. So Beth replied, "Yeah, sorry about that. Don't worry 'bout me, though – I tried ta text more often, but it's been a busy couple weeks."

" _Good_ busy? Or overwhelming?" Irma asked.

Beth smirked to herself, clearly picturing the look of concern that was almost certainly on Irma's face right now. " _Good_ busy. Promise. Um, remember that guy I told you about, with the kid? The ones I'm stayin' with?"

"Of course," Irma chirped. "Sounded like you an' that little one were becoming good friends!"

Beth chuckled softly. "Yeah, we are. Um, me an' that little one's dad – well, I… got a boyfriend now." She blushed saying it aloud, hoping Irma wouldn't disapprove.

But Irma sounded genuinely excited. "Really? Oh, that's _wonderful_! He sounds like such a nice man – is he _still_ nice? Does he treat you well? Is that why you moved in with 'im, 'cause you thought he was cute?"

Beth laughed. "Yes, he's still nice. Actually, he's only gotten nicer since I moved in. And he treats me _really_ well, that's – it's why I fell for him so quick, I guess. But no, I didn't really think he was that cute when I first met him. He's… not really my _type_ , honestly."

Irma chuckled and said, "They never are, honey. Types don't matter. But sometimes, it's like they say: 'opposites attract.' It was certainly true for me an' Dale! What about this guy's son? Is he okay with it?"

Beth's smile faded but she tried not to let her voice reveal it. "Yeah, he's um, adjusting. But… we're all _real_ happy when we're together."

"That's what matters," Irma said cheerily. "I certainly didn't expect t'hear that you already had a new boyfriend, but it sounds like it just might be what you needed."

Beth scoffed. "I dunno about that. I _definitely_ didn't intend ta get all wrapped up in another relationship. But… I dunno. I felt like I'd be kickin' myself if I didn't, ya know – admit that there was somethin' there. Like I'd always wonder what coulda been."

"What we _really_ need never seems t'come around when we _think_ we need it," Irma said confidently. "But God brings everyone into our lives for a reason. As long as he treats you well an' you both are better people together – then who cares about the timing? You gotta grab it when it's there, 'cause it doesn't come around often."

These words weren't the advice or reassurance that Beth had quite been expecting, but they permeated her soul in exactly the way she was craving. And her chest felt a little lighter for the moment. It was almost like talking to her momma again.

And then she heard Dale pipe up in the background, "Preach it, woman!" And she and Irma shared a laugh.

Beth spent the next fifteen minutes telling Irma all about the romantic date Daryl had taken her on, as well as talking about how fond she was growing of their small circle of friends. Irma sounded much happier when their conversation ended and far less worried about "Rosie's" well-being, seemingly convinced that Beth was doing well and getting happier each day. And Beth felt noticeably comforted once they hung up the phone, promising to talk again soon. Irma also promised to send photos of the mountains.

Beth had wanted to mention that she hadn't been exactly, completely, one-hundred percent _honest_ with this new boyfriend. She'd wanted to ask if Irma had any experience with fixing mistakes, in a sense. But she didn't ask. Irma was a saint – she wouldn't have the slightest _clue_ what to tell Beth when it came to explaining a month-long lie to the guy she was dating and living with. Beth couldn't even imagine Irma lying _at all_ , not even when she really tried. So the words had remained in her head and half-formed in her mouth, and she let the conversation end on a miniscule feeling of relief, but without the advice she'd really been seeking.

A few minutes after they'd hung up, Beth received a handful of photo messages from Irma. There was a photo of a beautiful mountain range in the distance, and a photo of Dale and Irma standing with another old couple in front of a large, blue house with the mountains in the background. Then there was a photo from before they'd reached Colorado, of Dale and Irma standing with a small group of friends in front of a large, beautiful, green field, with a multi-colored sunset in the distance, and Irma had captioned it, " _This is from our time in Kansas!_ " She also sent a couple of photos from their travels through West Virginia, and Beth marveled at the lush, green trees and seemingly endless miles of wilderness.

A part of her longed to be back in that RV, constantly travelling and never having to worry about running into someone she knew, or who might know her. But she knew that Irma was right, and God was leading her wherever it was that she was supposed to be.

She just hoped that place wouldn't end up being prison. Or on a table, receiving a lethal injection.

She sat on the couch and watched TV for a short time, finding herself unable to zone out anymore and right back to dwelling on Daryl and the… _situation_. She wondered what he was doing at the moment, and if he was pushing himself too hard at work while she was sitting around the apartment, uselessly waiting. She pulled out her phone and sent him a text message, simply asking how his day was going and if he was still planning on skipping lunch. Surprisingly, he responded almost instantly, though his message was brief. He told her that he and Dwight were having a busy day but that they'd be on track to leave on time as long as they worked through lunch. Once she read that, Beth made up her mind.

She got up and put on some shoes, then headed across the hall and knocked on the door to apartment 3B. She could hear the faint sound of cartoons and Mal's voice coming from inside, and then the door was unlocking and opening to reveal Carol. The older woman smiled down at Beth, obviously surprised by this random visit.

"Hey – everything okay?" Carol asked, glancing Beth up and down.

Beth smiled reassuringly and nodded. "Yeah, nothing's wrong. I was jus' wondering if you happened t'know where Daryl works exactly?"

Carol furrowed her brow, becoming more confused. "Yeah, it's a shop up in East Harlem. Why?"

"Well, he an' Dwight worked through lunch yesterday 'cause they wanna leave early today for the Catskills," Beth explained. "An' they're skippin' lunch today, too, so I wanted ta take 'em some sandwiches or somethin'. So they're not just like, starving themselves."

Carol's eyes lit up with interest and a smile formed on her face once she understood. "Ohh, okay. That's a nice idea! But why didn't you just ask Daryl for the address?"

Beth shrugged sheepishly. "I wanna surprise him. An' I know if I tell him my plan, he won't want me to. He'll think I'm goin' outta my way or somethin'."

Carol chuckled and nodded, then stepped aside and motioned for Beth to enter the apartment. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Here, come in for a second an' I'll write down the address for ya."

Beth stepped inside and Carol closed the door behind her, then went over to the kitchen bar and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen. Mal quickly spotted her and rushed over from where he'd been playing on the floor in front of the TV.

"Rosie!" He cried happily, running straight into her and wrapping his arms tightly around her legs. "What you doin'?! Are – are you still comin' camping?"

Beth chuckled and ruffled the toddler's blond hair. "Yeah, of course I am! I jus' had ta get somethin' from Carol. Are you being good today?"

"Yes! Dad said um, he said if I'm _real_ good today, we can make s'mores tonight!" Mal grinned up at her.

Beth smiled back. "Well, that sounds like a pretty darn good deal t'me. I hope you stick to it, 'cause I really wanna make s'mores with you!"

Mal laughed excitedly and hugged Beth's legs again.

Within minutes, Beth was back in apartment 3A, small piece of paper in her hand with the address of Daryl's motorcycle shop written on it. She typed the address into her phone and saved it, then went into the kitchen and set about preparing four sandwiches. She sang to herself as she spread condiments on the sub rolls and then stacked them with lettuce, tomato, meat, cheese, peppers, and onions. She remembered Daryl mentioning how much he loved olives and dug around in the cabinets until she found a small can of sliced olives, which she added before completing the sandwiches and carefully wrapping them up. Then she dug out the two thermoses sitting in the back of the cupboard and filled them to the brim with the sweet tea she'd made the day before. Finally, she carefully packed the thermoses and sandwiches into a large paper bag before heading to her bedroom to grab a few necessities for the trip to East Harlem.

It was already past eleven, so Beth decided against navigating the public bus system and chose to take a cab instead. She slipped on her leather jacket, white knit cap, and sunglasses, stuffed her phone and a little money into her pocket, then grabbed the paper bag and left the apartment. She didn't pass anyone on the stairs, and the lobby was empty except for a couple of tenants checking their mailboxes.

When she stepped outside, she realized that the cool breeze blowing into the half-open window all morning had been only a taste of the autumn weather that had overtaken the city in the last day-and-a-half. She was immediately glad to be wearing her jacket and hat, because it was like the weather had finally gotten the memo that summer was over and now it was playing catch-up. The sky was overcast and gloomy, a faint scent of rain and ocean water in the air, and the temperature hadn't even reached the seventies despite how long the sun had been up. A chill ran through Beth as she strode down the sidewalk and chilly air hit her cheeks and neck, and for a split-second, the realization of just how much time had passed since leaving Georgia suddenly hit her. But she quickly brushed it off and focused on hailing a cab from the sidewalk.

It didn't take long to hail down a cab, and a couple minutes later, she was sitting in the back of a yellow taxi as an older Hispanic man drove her through the East Village, loud Spanish music playing on his radio. She appreciated the lack of conversation, and even though she was functionally fluent in Spanish, she didn't make it known. The driver remained silent after asking where she was going, and so did she after giving him the address.

Beth watched the neighborhoods and businesses pass by outside her window, noticing more and more Halloween decorations popping up on every block. Traffic wasn't terribly congested, like during rush hour, but there were more people out on the road and on the sidewalks for lunch time. The drop in temperature seemed to be bringing more people outside, too, with their jackets zipped up tight and closed umbrellas in hand for the rain that was threatening to appear. She thought about Daryl, growing a bit nervous as she got closer and closer to the shop.

What if he was upset that she bothered him at work? She assured herself that, if nothing else, she could drop off the food and leave. The logical side of her said that Daryl would most likely _not_ be upset, because when had he ever been upset to see her? But in her experience, every man in her life had become very angry when she'd surprised them while they were working, and she'd eventually been trained to understand that it was completely inappropriate to surprise someone like that, " _ **especially**_ _while they're busy working_."

 _But Daryl works on motorcycles… not drugs,_ she reminded herself.

The motorcycle shop that Daryl worked at was located in a neighborhood that was noticeably nicer than most of the neighborhoods surrounding it. It was still pretty obviously part of Harlem, but when Beth paid the cab driver and stepped out of the car, she didn't feel completely out of her element – nothing like the place she'd gone when she'd met Jesus. It had taken about twenty minutes, with traffic, to travel from the apartment, and she wondered if that was the route that Daryl took to and from work every day.

She was standing on the sidewalk, in front of a brightly painted motorcycle shop with glass front windows and a large, white sign overhead. The sign read: _Ride Rehab_ , with a design to the left of a circle with two R's inside of it, and on the other side was a cartoon motorcycle, flames emitting from the tailpipe. The shop was set up in what looked like two conjoined buildings on the end of the block, and was much larger than Beth had expected. Around the corner, on the other side of the building, was a huge, white garage door, and about a dozen different kinds of bikes parked out front in the street. She peered in through the glass front windows, searching for a peek of Daryl or Dwight. But she could tell that they wouldn't be working in the front part of this shop.

She approached the front door, which had an _Open_ sign posted above a list of their hours, and pulled it open, stepping inside with the paper bag in hand. Once she was inside, she pushed her sunglasses up farther on her nose and glanced around – two security cameras in the corners of the ceiling. The front part of the shop was like a display room and a store in one area. There was a counter in the corner with a cash register and an employee standing behind it, and the whole room was filled with shelves and display racks and cases. There were helmets, jackets, and accessories on one side, and various shiny bike parts on the other. And it all looked sparkling clean, not at all the greasy shop that Beth had imagined. Though it definitely still smelled like a repair shop. She spotted a door in the far corner labelled " _Employees Only_." It looked like it led to the garage.

Beth waited for the man that was already at the counter to step away before she approached, staring intently at the young white guy in a red "Ride Rehab" polo shirt from behind her sunglasses. He couldn't have been much older than she was, probably in college or recently graduated from high school. He smiled when she reached the counter, and she glanced down to see his nametag that read: _Zach_.

"Can I help you, miss?" He asked.

She smiled but didn't take off her sunglasses. "Yeah, is Daryl here? Um – I brought him lunch." She held up the paper bag in her hand, still smiling.

Zach looked her up and down for a second, a slightly quizzical expression on his face, and replied, "Daryl Dixon?"

Beth nodded.

She saw him suppress a laugh, then he asked, "You his sister or something?"

She narrowed her eyes behind the sunglasses, but maintained her polite smile. " _Girlfriend_ , actually. I don't think he has a sister."

Zach's eyes widened and his cheeks went pink. He quickly tried to hide it, nodding and smiling apologetically. "Oh – right. Sorry, I didn't – I didn't know he _had_ a girlfriend. Uh yeah, he's back in the garage, want me t'get him?"

Beth smirked, a bit more satisfied with his reaction than she would've liked to admit. She shook her head. "If it's okay, I was jus' gonna go drop this off an' say hi. Am I allowed in the garage?"

Zach shrugged, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the " _Employees Only_ " door. "Sure, why not. It's through that door. Gets a little loud in there, though, so you might want some earplugs or somethin'."

She arched an eyebrow and replied with a stiff smile, "I think I'll be okay. Thanks so much." He nodded and she turned and headed for the door to the garage.

As soon as she opened the door and stepped inside, she was overwhelmed by the smell and the noise. The kid behind the counter had been right – it was _loud_. The garage was large, with a tall ceiling and gray concrete everywhere, and bright, fluorescent lights hanging from the exposed rafters. The walls were covered with posters and pictures and advertisements, and the sound reverberated off every surface. It was a mixture of engine noises, power tools, men yelling to each other, various kinds of music playing from several different speakers, and the never-ending clatter of metal on metal. The smell was twice as strong as it had been in the front of the shop, like grease, dirt, leather, and cigarette smoke.

There were about ten guys in the garage, all of them wearing clothing similar to what Daryl usually wore, as well as looking similarly dirty. Most of them were working on bikes, or the frames of what might've once been a bike, and carrying heavy parts back-and-forth to different parts of the garage, cigarettes dangling from their mouths and small clouds of smoke fading up into the air. Now Beth could see how Daryl had gotten so buff without any time to go to the gym – if he was picking up these heavy bikes and parts and tools all day, for forty-plus hours a week, it was no wonder his arms stretched the fabric of every sleeved shirt he owned.

She stood in place and searched the garage for Daryl or Dwight, heart thumping in her chest. But no one had even noticed her come in, let alone glanced in her direction. As she grew accustomed to the noise and the smell, her pulse slowed, and she lifted her sunglasses to place them atop her head and get a better look. Then she spotted the back of Daryl's head across the room, towards the left. She reflexively smiled and her heart leapt, and she began quickly walking across the hard floor toward him.

As she got closer, eyes set on the back of his head, the sound of an old NWA song became clearer. And then she was approaching him, and she realized he had a portable Bluetooth speaker set on a small metal table, next to his open box of tools and a half-full ash tray. His shoulders flexed beneath his black, sleeveless shirt, stretching the thin fabric across his broad back. He nodded along to the song and Beth wondered how she hadn't known that he liked 90s rap.

She waited a couple of seconds to make her presence known, intrigued by watching him work. He was completely focused on the task in front of him, a neglected cigarette burning in the ashtray nearby. He was leaned down close to the bike, squatting beside it with a tool in his hand as he carefully adjusted something that was too small for Beth to recognize. When he leaned back and inspected his work, she spoke up, loud enough that he could hear her over the noise and Eazy-E's rapping.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" She grinned as he spun around in surprise. His eyes widened briefly and then he quickly stood up, smiling and setting down his tools before reaching over and pausing his music. He grabbed a stained rag sitting nearby and wiped off his hands.

"What're you doin' here?" He asked, and for a split-second, Beth was afraid his smile would turn to a frown and that he'd ask her why she felt the need to interrupt him. But he didn't. He actually seemed pleasantly surprised. His smile remained, and he set down the rag and gestured to the paper bag in her hand. "Whatcha got?"

She grinned and lifted the paper bag to hold it out to him. "I brought you an' Dwight lunch – just sandwiches, but I thought maybe you could eat 'em while you worked. I made sure they wouldn't be messy or nothin'."

Daryl glanced her up and down with a pleasantly surprised expression on his face, mixed with a hint of something else – adoration, maybe. He stepped closer and took the bag from her hands, opening it to briefly peer inside. He smiled a little wider and nodded. "Didn't have ta do that. You come all this way jus' ta feed us?"

Beth shrugged. "It's not that far. I got the address from Carol so I could surprise you. Are you surprised?"

He chuckled softly and closed the paper bag again, setting it down on the small metal table so he could close the distance between them and circle an arm around her waist. He gazed down at her with a smirk and said, "I usually hate surprises but this is the best one I've had yet."

She grinned up at him and then he was leaning down and kissing her, and the fluttering came to life in her stomach. She suddenly felt stupid for thinking that Daryl would be angry that she surprised him at work with lunch. Where had she even gotten that idea anyway? He'd made it pretty clear that he liked seeing her just as much as she liked seeing him.

 _Brainwashed, brainwashed…_

"Woah, now! Since when did this become the Motel Six?!" Dwight's voice abruptly interrupted their passionate kiss, and Beth and Daryl pulled apart to turn and see the blond man standing a few feet away, hands on his hips and a playful smile on his face.

"Hey, she brought lunch fer our worthless asses, think the least I could do is show my appreciation," Daryl barked back teasingly.

Dwight laughed, then looked at Beth. " _'Our'_? You brought lunch fer me, too?" She nodded and he grinned in surprise. "Damn, you really are too good fer him. Thanks, ya didn't have ta do that."

She shrugged and chuckled, glancing over and exchanging a smile with Daryl. "It's no big deal. Daryl said you guys were workin' through lunch, but that's too long ta go without eating. I made sandwiches an' brought some sweet tea."

"In _my_ thermoses, which I'll want back before we leave," Daryl added, looking pointedly at Dwight.

Dwight laughed and nodded. "Gotcha. Well, ain't that an awfully sweet thing ta do."

Beth blushed lightly, then glanced around the large garage. "Can't say I wasn't a little curious t'see where you guys work, too."

"Welp, this is it," Daryl said flatly, shrugging. "Ain't nothin' special."

"Pays the bills," Dwight added, stepping closer as Daryl picked up the paper bag and opened it to reach in for a sandwich and a thermos. Dwight took the bag and grabbed his own sandwich and drink right afterward.

"Met your – uh, guy at the counter," Beth said, looking back and forth between the men as they opened their thermoses and unwrapped their sandwiches. "Up front. He thought I was your sister."

Daryl furrowed his brow but Dwight laughed.

"Zach?" Daryl asked, and Beth nodded. He rolled his eyes and took a sip of tea, sandwich held in his other hand as he prepared to take a bite. "He's only workin' here 'cause his daddy told 'im he had ta do somethin' besides play video games while he's goin' ta school part-time. Kid ain't the sharpest tool in the shed."

"He comes off kinda pompous sometimes," Dwight commented through a mouth half-full of food, sandwich gripped in his hands as he stood and ate. "'Spect he'll quit here 'fore too long."

" _Mm-hmm_ ," Daryl agreed as he chewed on the big bite of sandwich he'd taken.

Beth shrugged. "I think he was just surprised that you have a girlfriend."

Dwight chuckled, but Daryl shook his head and said, "Yeah, right. He was checkin' ya out, huh? Did he try flirtin' with ya or somethin'?"

Beth laughed, sensing a hint of seriousness behind his joke. But she assured him, "No – I mean, I dunno if he was checkin' me out. But he definitely didn't _flirt_ with me."

Dwight shrugged and looked at Daryl, who was scowling. "We could still scare 'im a little bit. Just for the hell of it," Dwight grinned mischievously.

Daryl shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich, which he was already nearly finished with. When he finished chewing, he looked at Beth and said, "I'll let it slide this time. Can't really blame the kid fer lookin' – hard not to when yer walkin' around lookin' like _that_." He gestured vaguely to her body and she blushed, rolling her eyes playfully in response.

"Oh, _hush_ , this is how I always dress," she said through a smile.

Daryl raised his eyebrows like she'd made his point for him. "I know."

"Alright, I'm tryin' ta eat here, can you guys save it for the wilderness? Where you can go be gross behind some trees and not subject me ta sufferin' through the show?" Dwight grinned.

That comment earned him a playful punch in the arm from Daryl, and Beth was glad she'd decided to come and surprise them. Even at work, she could see that they had fun together. And it only made her that much more excited to spend two whole days with them, and Sherry and Mal, without the loud noise of a motorcycle shop, or a bar, or the city itself.

She kind of hoped Dwight was right, too – maybe she and Daryl _could_ "sneak off." Because when she started thinking about _that_ , her excitement peaked. And she quickly began counting down the hours until they'd be driving far away from Manhattan.

* * *

Daryl and Dwight finished their sandwiches even quicker than Beth expected, both of them returning to work halfway through their meals. And after kissing Daryl goodbye and hailing another cab home, Beth returned to apartment 3A less than two hours after she'd left. She was even more antsy about the trip, the hours ticking by slower than ever since Daryl and Dwight had briefly explained their plan for leaving.

Now she was waiting for Daryl and Dwight to show up in Dwight's truck – Daryl explained that he'd be leaving his bike at work for the weekend, inside the garage. And then he'd get Mal, they'd all quickly pack up, stop at a storage unit to pick up Daryl's camping equipment, and finally stop by Dwight and Sherry's apartment to pick Sherry up and head out of town. Beth triple-checked everything in the apartment, especially everything she planned on bringing, and made sure that the place would be ready to lock up and leave by the time the boys arrived.

She lounged around for a while, snacking and sipping an afternoon coffee. She didn't even have dinner to occupy herself with, as the boys planned on stopping at a McDonald's drive-thru on the way out of town, so they could eat without losing time. Of course, Mal would be perfectly happy with that plan.

Beth pulled out her phone and ran through the headlines for the hundredth time that day. At the moment, she wasn't sure if the aching in her gut was a warning that she should be prepared for something big coming, or if it was just her anxiety settling into its usual resting place. She decided to tell herself it was the latter, and as she was setting her phone aside and moving to occupy her hands with something more productive, it vibrated with a new text message.

She sighed and checked the screen, but her heart skipped when she saw that it was from Daryl. Why? She'd be seeing him in just a couple hours. Nevertheless, she opened it and read:

 _Thanks again for lunch. Can't wait to share a tent with you._

Even though she was alone, Beth blushed just reading the message. Smiling stupidly to herself, she quickly typed out, " _No problem. I can't wait either! I'm counting down the minutes_." Then pressed Send.

She tried to watch TV, but she kept gazing out the window and wondering what the weather would be like in the Catskills. So then she looked up the weather forecast for the general area she thought they might be going to, and after that, she went to her bedroom and switched out a few items of clothing that she intended on packing.

Then, just because she was in the room and digging through the dresser drawer, she pulled out the bag full of money and opened it. The Beretta still lay inside, wrapped in its plastic sack. Beth reached in and plucked out the photo from where it peeked out between wads of cash. She held it before her, gazing at it and taking in the image one more time… just in case. At this point, though, she was pretty sure this particular picture of her family was burned into her brain.

She returned and secured her little bag of evidence, piling some shirts on top of it in the back corner of the drawer where it rested. She was only taking a few hundred dollars, and only because she never liked going anywhere without emergency cash these days. She was also bringing her daddy's pocket watch and her phone, though both of them would probably spend the majority of the trip at the bottom of her bag. And of course, her necklace was always on, where the rest of her remaining family heirlooms hung. For once, she wasn't terribly paranoid, though; she didn't necessarily feel the need to bring along the bag and the Beretta, like she probably would've two weeks ago. They were going out, away from the city, away from people and the cameras and the _police_. She'd finally be safe, _really_ safe, for a change.

And what were the chances that anything major or newsworthy would happen over the weekend? It would probably be good for her mental health to stuff the phone away for a couple days and try to forget about the media, Jenny Jones, Rick Grimes, Jesus, and the rest of the shitshow that her life had become. Just for a couple days, at least.

A quarter before five, Daryl, Dwight, and Malachi entered the apartment, chatting excitedly and greeting Beth cheerfully. Mal was the most excited of all of them, and Dwight had to help wrangle him while Daryl headed to the bathroom to quickly clean up and change. Beth lent a hand, pulling out some of Mal's toys and inviting him to play with her. Dwight sat down on the living room floor and joined them, and less than ten minutes later, Daryl reemerged with damp hair, asking everyone to help him get ready.

After some digging in his bedroom closet, Daryl pulled out a yellow-and-black duffel bag for Beth to use. She quickly took it to her bedroom and packed up her prepared things while the boys packed up the last of Daryl's and Mal's things in the bedroom. She was stepping out of her bedroom, bag hanging from her shoulder, when Daryl approached her in the hallway first. He looked past her, into her bedroom, then down at her face. She glanced over his shoulder and saw Dwight at the end of the hall, trying to stuff something into the backpack on Mal's back.

"Ready?" Beth smiled, looking up at Daryl.

He gestured toward her bedroom. "Ain't ya gonna bring yer guitar?"

She shrugged, glancing behind her at the guitar sitting in its usual spot. "You want me to?"

Daryl smirked. "Hell yeah. Ain't many radio stations out there, we're gonna need some music."

With a laugh, Beth turned back into her bedroom and grabbed her guitar, slipping the strap over her head before joining Daryl and closing her bedroom door. A few seconds later, Dwight and Mal were ready, and they were all gathering in the living room and heading out the front door, leaving the apartment tightly locked up behind them.

Daryl and Dwight were constantly ribbing each other, but they worked well together and seemed to communicate without words most of the time. They loaded up their bags into the back of Dwight's dark grey Ford Explorer, which looked fairly new and freshly washed. He folded down one of the two rows of backseats to make more room for their equipment, leaving room for Daryl's equipment and Sherry's bags. There was already a collapsed tent strapped to the rack on the roof, along with two fishing poles, and Beth spotted a large tackle box beneath Dwight's duffel bag in the back, as well as a big cooler, a few cases of beer, and a case of bottled water. She hadn't thought about the possibility of going fishing – wouldn't she need a license for that? She was far too excited to worry about it right now. She placed her guitar down carefully next to the tackle box.

They all loaded up into the truck, and after Daryl securely strapped Mal into his carseat behind the passenger's side and then buckled himself into the front passenger's seat, they were on their way. Beth sat behind the driver's side seat in the back, next to Mal, and the toddler was over the moon about having "Rosie" so close for the drive.

Dwight was playing a classic rock station on the radio, front windows rolled down as the cool breeze blew in and ruffled everyone's hair. They drove through the East Village and Beth gazed out the window, listening to Mal's chatter and responding when he asked a question, passively listening to Dwight and Daryl casually chatting in the front seat. But she was mostly daydreaming about what the Catskills would look like. She couldn't wait to look up and see open sky instead of more steel.

They didn't drive very far to get to Daryl's storage unit. Dwight parked outside of a large building with a bright orange sign that read: _2 MUCH STUF_. Daryl assured them all he'd be right back and hopped out, jogging up to the front door of the building and disappearing inside. Dwight turned up his radio as a Black Sabbath song began to play and Mal clapped excitedly, recognizing the song. While they waited, the toddler sang along, and Beth quietly joined him. Two songs and a commercial break later, Daryl reappeared with three fishing poles in hand, a tackle box, and a large, collapsed tent that he was carefully lugging along behind him. Dwight quickly hopped out to help, and together, they strapped the tent and poles to the roof rack with the others, then put the tackle box into the back. Beth glanced something resting on Daryl's back, a strap across his chest – she turned in her seat to get a better look as he unloaded everything he was carrying, and then he was unstrapping it from his back. A crossbow. He placed it carefully in the back, then returned to his seat as Dwight started the engine.

"Is that – you have a crossbow?" She asked, peering over the back of her seat to get a closer look at the large weapon.

Daryl turned in his seat to look back at her, smirking. "Yeah. Keep it in storage most a the time. What, ya think I'm gonna go campin' and not hunt somethin' while I'm there?"

Dwight laughed and Beth smiled, shrugging as she relaxed back into her seat. "Guess not. Jus' didn't know you were a crossbow kinda guy."

This brought another chuckle from Dwight, while Daryl shrugged and grunted. "Always have been, I reckon."

She was trying to picture Daryl using a crossbow. How had she never known that? Well, it wasn't exactly something that would've come up. Now she was even more curious to see him in action, out in the wild.

Then they were off again, in the direction of Dwight and Sherry's apartment.

A few minutes later, they pulled up to an apartment building that looked slightly nicer than Daryl's. Dwight mentioned that he'd already texted Sherry to be ready and, sure enough, she emerged from behind the steel front door of the building before Dwight could even shut off the engine. The brunette had a large, green duffel bag hanging from her shoulder, which Dwight jumped out of the truck to help her load into the back. Daryl got out, too, and moved to the backseat, where he instructed Beth to scoot over to the middle of the bench seat since she was smaller. She happily agreed, and once they were all buckled in, with Dwight in the driver's seat and Sherry in the passenger's, they were off again. Mal was even more excited to have "Rosie" right beside him and his dad on the other side of her.

After spending ten minutes in a McDonald's drive thru, it took them a little over half an hour to get through traffic and out of Manhattan, and then they drove over a bridge that crossed into New Jersey. Beth marveled at all the green, as well as the dark blue of the Hudson River as they drove alongside it for a while. Then the city faded, gradually followed by the neighborhoods, until it was more nature than urban sprawl outside the window. Everyone finished their dinner, with Daryl helping Mal to be as clean as possible while he ate. The excited chatter and singing in the truck eventually quieted as they drove down the highway, passing through small towns here and there, with the mountains in the distance growing closer and closer. The trees were a blur of green, orange, yellow, and red along the side of the highway, and cars became fewer and farther between as they drove on.

Once Mal was occupied with a couple of toys, his eyelids drooping during their long drive, Daryl rested his hand on Beth's leg and relaxed against her. She immediately smiled and interlaced her fingers with his, letting their hands rest together on her leg. When she glanced over at him, he was gazing down at her with a smirk, and she smiled back bashfully. Then he leaned down and stole a quick kiss, and she giggled softly. She could see Sherry from the corner of her eye, briefly watching them in the rearview mirror with a small, knowing smile on her face. Beth pretended not to notice, but her stomach fluttered. They had barely left the city and she was already feeling lighter, more care-free. Almost _normal_.

They talked about their plans for when they got to the mountains, the sun sliding lower in the multi-colored sky outside. Sherry asked Beth if she'd ever been camping before and Beth said yes, of course she had, but it had been a while. Which got everyone into a conversation where they ended up sharing stories about past camping trips and fishing adventures. Beth could still remember the first time she'd gone fishing, back when her family was whole and happy and normal. She could still remember the smell of the soil when she would hunt for nightcrawlers with Shawn and Maggie. She glanced over at Mal, whose head was lolling on his shoulders as he struggled to stay awake in his carseat, and she wondered if he'd like to dig for worms with her. She was almost certain he would.

They didn't take a conventional route to the campgrounds of the Catskills, though Beth hadn't expected them to. Dwight led them down backroads, past overgrown wild grass and lush, multi-colored trees. The sky grew dark as they got farther out, and by the time they were pulling up to a dark clearing set away off a dirt road, on the edge of what looked like a vast forest, the sun had disappeared behind the horizon and the stars were twinkling brighter and brighter overhead.

Before they parked, Dwight and Daryl explained that they knew a spot that they didn't have to hike very far for, but it was still a decent place to camp undisturbed. Obviously, they knew better places, but everyone agreed that they didn't want to lug a toddler that far into the wilderness. Daryl mentioned that there was a small town about fifteen miles away, just in case anything happened. Beth didn't bother asking which direction it was in, she just hoped they wouldn't need to visit _any_ towns while they were here.

They were far enough away from the well-populated campgrounds and the rest of civilization that the darkness was _very_ dark. There was no light except what came from the sky, and Dwight left the headlights and domelight on so they could gather their stuff from the truck. Mal woke up with renewed energy when he realized they were out in the wilderness, and he eagerly helped grab the stuff from the back – as much as he could, anyway. Daryl strapped the little backpack to his son's back and handed him a fishing pole to carry, which was a smaller pole designed for children. Mal grinned happily and jumped around, chattering away, while Beth helped unload the truck and carry what she could.

With all the truck's doors still open, lights flooding the small clearing, everyone prepared to lock up and begin heading through the trees. But Daryl stopped them and pulled out a couple of bottles from his bag – tick spray, he explained. Dwight nodded in agreement, shrugging and explaining that he was just going to wait until they got to the campsite, but Daryl said he refused to take any risks. He quickly grabbed Mal and helped the toddler spray himself down with repellent, clothes and all, then helped Beth do the same and finally gave himself a brief once-over. Dwight and Sherry decided to do the same to themselves, and once everyone smelled like tick repellent, they locked up the Ford Explorer and grabbed the handles of everything they'd be lugging along. Beth had to admit that she'd kind of forgotten about ticks, and she was already grateful for Daryl's extreme caution.

If the clearing had been dark, then the woods itself was pitch black. Dwight and Daryl led the way through with confidence, though, shining bright flashlights along the path and moving slowly to make sure everyone was watching their step. Daryl had his crossbow strapped to his back and lugged the heaviest things, like the cooler that was now full of beer and bottled water, while Dwight carried the tents, and Sherry and Beth carried as many bags as they could each handle, including Beth's guitar strapped to her back. Mal stopped several times to look at bugs or pick up sticks, and Daryl repeatedly reminded him that there'd be more than enough cool bugs and sticks at their campsite. Beth grabbed the toddler's hand and tried to occupy him while keeping him moving, and it seemed to work, eliciting a brief look of gratitude from Daryl.

They walked for about twenty minutes through dense trees and grass, and Beth noticed that it was cooler out here than it was in the city. And the darker the sky got, the chillier the air became. Then the trees began to thin out until they were approaching a clearing, like an open area just large enough for a small group of people to set up camp. Sherry marveled at how perfect it was as they stepped out of the tall grass and woods, boots crunching across a thin blanket of dead leaves and dying grass. Mal tugged on Beth's hand, begging to run free, and once Daryl gave his nod of approval, she let the toddler go and they watched him run ahead, jumping around in the big, open area and staying within the light of the flashlights. He quickly became occupied with inspecting all the cool bugs and sticks that his dad had promised would be there.

With loud sighs of relief, everyone unloaded the equipment and bags that they'd hauled, and Beth's legs burned from the excursion. She didn't think she'd done that much physical activity since the two days she'd spent running from the farm. There was a cramp in her side and she silently scolded herself for falling out of an active routine and becoming out-of-shape – just another thing to make her vulnerable. She started to wonder if she should begin a new routine of jogging or something to keep up, but then Dwight and Daryl were asking the girls for their help in setting up the tents, and she quickly forgot about those other problems for the time being.

Sherry unpacked some solar-powered LED lights she'd brought along, which she turned on to illuminate their campsite. It was a huge improvement from the flashlights, especially once she set out all four of the dome-shaped lanterns. The four adults worked together to set up their tents about twenty feet apart, with the openings facing the middle of the site, where there was a large, dark circle burnt into the ground from past campfires, and plenty of open area around it for eating and playing. Mal tried to help where he could, but he mostly gathered bugs until Daryl set him onto a task of finding the perfect sticks for their campfire. Once the tents were up, Sherry hung a string of solar-powered lights across the poles they'd stuck in the ground. They reminded Beth of Christmas lights, but they gave the campsite a warm glow and a cozier feeling, as well as more light to work by, especially since the moon and stars weren't nearly bright enough.

Dwight and Sherry prepared the inside of their tent while Daryl began helping Mal find adequate kindling and firewood. Beth grabbed the sleeping bags that Daryl had brought along and set up the inside of their tent, which was just large enough for her and Daryl's sleeping bag to sit comfortably with walking space between, and then Mal's child-sized sleeping bag, as well as a small space in the corner where their bags sat with her guitar. When she was done, she unzipped Daryl's sleeping bag and lifted it up to peek inside, realizing it was plenty large enough for the both of them. She smiled to herself, already anticipating getting to sleep in their cozy tent together. And it would be the first time they were technically sharing a room with Malachi – which might prevent any _other_ activities, but they could work around it.

Before she left the tent, she dug through her duffel bag of clothes until she found her phone near the bottom. She pulled it out and unlocked the screen to find that she had no signal whatsoever. There probably wasn't a cell phone tower for miles and miles. But she smiled to herself again and shut the phone off completely. No point in wasting the battery life to leave it on when there was no signal. Then she stuffed it back into her bag, clear at the bottom beneath all her clothes.

Her chest felt lighter as she left the tent and joined the others. She couldn't explain it, but something felt different up here – like she was truly free for the first time since she'd left Georgia.

Beth wanted to help the others build the campfire, hoping she remembered what her daddy had taught her so many years ago. But by the time she was done setting up the inside of their tent and had reemerged, Dwight and Daryl were already sparking the kindling while Mal watched with wide, eager eyes. Sherry emerged from her and Dwight's tent shortly after Beth, and the two women watched the firewood catch fire and slowly build into a glowing flame as it consumed the kindling and sent dark smoke up into the night air.

There were several dead logs lying about the clearing, and it was fairly obvious that there had been dozens of people camping here in the recent past. Dwight and Daryl moved a few of the longer logs over next to the tents, so that they were surrounding the campfire. Then they pulled out a couple of big, soft blankets they'd brought along to set out on the tops of the logs, scooting the cooler in closer and pulling out beers and waters. Before he sat down, Daryl insisted on doing a tick check on Mal, who objected at first but gave in when he realized there was no getting out of it. Then he got sprayed with a little more repellent. But right after that, he was quick to remind Daryl about his s'mores promise, and Daryl chuckled before pulling out all the ingredients and assuring the toddler that he was a man of his word.

The stars winked overhead as the small group of friends sat around the burning campfire, toasting marshmallows on wire sticks and sipping beers. It felt like finally getting to relax after a long day of work, especially for the guys, who really did have a very long day of work before trekking heavy equipment through the woods and setting up tents. Sherry turned down a beer, and Dwight reminded Daryl that they were trying to get pregnant, so she had officially cut herself off from drinking. Beth, however, was more than happy to accept an ice cold beer. Mal was having the time of his life cooking marshmallows until they were black and then stuffing them between graham crackers and chocolate, smooshing them together and making an awful mess before he shoved it all in his mouth. Of course, he made a few particularly messy s'mores for "Rosie," which she accepted happily. Daryl let him make at least five s'mores for himself before he realized the toddler actually did _not_ have a personal limit when it came to chocolate, and was forced to cut him off from sugar for the night. Despite some protest and a little whining, Mal eventually obeyed, and soon enough, he was occupying himself with throwing dead leaves and small sticks into the fire, just to watch them burn up. His face was still smeared with chocolate as he laughed and jumped around.

Beth and Daryl sat close together on a thick, dead log with beers in their hands, while Dwight and Sherry sat across from them on another log, Dwight's arm around his wife as he sipped a beer, and she sipped a water and made s'mores for the two of them. Beth mostly sat and listened as the three old friends reminisced on past camping trips, fishing trips, and hunting stories. Daryl clasped her free hand in his, rested atop their touching thighs, and squeezed it occasionally. Then they'd exchange a glance that felt like assurance that he was happy to have her there. Or maybe she was reading too much into it.

As evening faded into night and they passed Mal's usual bedtime, the sky above got darker but the stars continued twinkling. Their campsite was well lit by Dwight and Sherry's solar-charged lights, warm with a glowing fire and their generously-sized tents blocking half of the chilly breeze that blew through the trees. The bugs got louder as it got later, and for a second, Beth could've swore she heard a wolf somewhere off in the distance. Then she asked herself if there even _were_ wolves out here – or was it bears that she should be worried about? For the first time probably _ever_ , she was more threatened by nature than by her fellow humans. That was a refreshing feeling.

After a handful of beers, and bathroom trips into the dark edge of the trees – by both the adults and Mal alike – Sherry grew tired of s'mores and suggested they lay out the blankets beside the fire, where there was no log set out, to look up at the stars. The others agreed, with Mal immediately beginning to chatter about all the books he'd read on constellations and the exhibit about stars and galaxies that he'd seen at the museum. Dwight, Daryl, Sherry, and Beth laid out three big, soft blankets over the dead leaves and dirt on the ground, a few feet from the campfire, and sat down. Mal quickly sprawled out in the middle, between Beth and Sherry, while Daryl and Dwight sat near the edge with beers and cigarettes in their hands. After a few minutes of stargazing, Dwight suggested they'd get a better view with less lighting and Sherry agreed, so they shut off half the lights that hung around the campsite. They were right – dozens more stars became clearer in the sky as Beth gazed up at it.

Mal pointed out the constellations he recognized, and Sherry and Beth quizzed him on them, pointing to some of the particularly bright ones and asking him what they were. Then Sherry began telling the stories behind the constellations, and though Mal was asking a lot of questions at first, he slowly grew quieter and quieter. Before long, the only sounds around them were Dwight and Daryl's quiet voices a couple feet away and Sherry's soft voice finishing her story, surrounded by the low hum of insects and the faint sound of trickling water somewhere in the distance. Beth glanced over and realized Mal's eyes were closed and his mouth was hanging open. She smiled – he was a tiny replica of Daryl in that moment. Sherry stopped talking and Beth looked up to see that the other woman had noticed the sleeping toddler, as well. She chuckled softly before sitting up and getting Daryl's attention.

Daryl carried Mal to their tent and put him to bed inside his little sleeping bag, returning a few minutes later to sit down next to Beth. Sherry and Dwight had moved to cuddle up close together on the other half of the blankets, whispering and laughing with each other. Daryl grabbed another pair of beers from the cooler and opened them, handing one to Beth before getting comfortable close beside her. Then he leaned back against one hand, gazing up at the sky and sipping his beer with the other hand. His leg rested against Beth's and she followed suit, leaning back to rest on one hand and sip her beer with the other. She leaned closer until their arms were touching, too.

"One thing I miss 'bout back home," he mumbled, eyes locked on the night sky overhead. "Wasn't all that damn artificial light an' smog ta block out the stars."

Beth smiled weakly, gazing up at the sky for a moment before turning to watch Daryl instead. Her eyelids were getting heavy and she felt more relaxed than she had all week. "Me, too," she replied softly, trying not to think too deeply about Georgia. But the beer was already getting to her head – and maybe her stomach, too, because that old, familiar pain in her gut was back. She set the can down on the ground a few feet away and decided she'd had enough tonight.

Then she heard Dwight's voice and turned to see him and Sherry standing up. "We're gonna hit the sack. Think you'll be up before sunrise?"

Beth glanced over and saw Daryl looking at Dwight, then he replied, "Most likely. Holler at me if I'm not."

Dwight shrugged. "Alright. 'Night."

"Goodnight," Sherry waved at them.

Beth and Daryl returned the waves and "goodnight"s, watching their friends disappear inside their tent as the night grew even quieter without their low whispers nearby. Now it was just the two of them, sitting together on the blanket-covered ground with a slowly dwindling campfire burning a few feet away and millions of stars winking down at them. A few clouds were lazily drifting across the sky, briefly hiding the moon.

Daryl heaved a tired sigh and set his beer aside, then laid back on the blanket to continue gazing up at the stars. Beth looked over at him, stealing a glance at the little bit of exposed skin where his shirt had lifted when he laid back. But really, she was thinking about Georgia. And that pain in her gut.

"You ever… think about goin' back?" Her voice came out soft, and she didn't realize she'd decided on vocalizing the question until she heard herself saying it. But it was innocent enough, so she watched Daryl's expression carefully.

He turned his head lazily to look over at her, hands folded together across his middle. He knew what she was talking about without needing her to specify. "Never… Why? Do you?"

 _All the fucking time. And I don't know why,_ Beth thought.

"No," she quickly replied. "Just wondered… y'know, if you ever thought about leavin' the city. Movin' somewhere else."

Daryl shrugged, turning his head to look up at the sky again. There was a hint of contemplation in his voice, but Beth couldn't be sure. "Sometimes – not really. I'ono. Guess I'd like t'live somewhere else eventually, jus' ain't a priority anytime soon. But I'll be movin' forward, not backward."

 _That's a better answer than what I expected,_ she thought.

"Yeah… forward," Beth mumbled thoughtfully, slowly lying back next to him until their arms were touching and she was gazing up at the black sky and twinkling stars. She sighed, a small breath of relief from finally laying down. "I always had this, like… fantasy. About movin' somewhere like France, or Italy or somethin'. Maybe Ireland."

Daryl grunted in a sleepy half-chuckle, and they were both gazing wistfully up at the sky now, arms touching as the warmth of the campfire washed over them. " _Heh_ – Ireland, huh? Buncha drunks that slur all their words together."

Beth giggled quietly. "They probably think the same about us, ya know. Our accents aren't always the most clear – an' I dunno, I was just thinkin' somewhere beautiful. All the pictures look _beautiful_. A seaside cottage, maybe…"

Daryl chuckled, but not like he was mocking her. He almost sounded like he was actually beginning to weigh the options. "Seaside brings more problems'an it's worth. France is a li'l fruity fer my taste – 'spose Italy might not be so bad, though."

Beth was smiling as she listened to him talk, recognizing the tone in his voice and the way he relaxed beside her. Maybe he really _was_ entertaining the idea…? Of course, it wouldn't be Daryl if he didn't voice his _honest_ opinion on all her suggestions. But she liked that about him. Even more so, she liked that they could do something normal like this – talk about the future, even if it was a very distant and not-entirely-possible future. That was something boyfriends and girlfriends did…

But so was sharing secrets, and being honest about who you really are.

A part of her wanted to ask him, flat out. To leave. To flee the country with her. She wanted to tell him that she had no _choice_ but to leave the city, and that she wanted him and Mal to come with her when she did. That she _needed_ them to come with her when she did. But that was a far reach from daydreaming together about moving to a foreign country. The larger part of her – the part that was so _fucking_ relieved to finally be _away_ from the city and _away_ from other people – told her not to ruin this moment, or this night, by letting herself slip up and pour out her soul after a few beers. They were just fantasizing about a distant, far-off future together. A possibility that most likely would never come to fruition, but that amused them for a brief moment.

A fantasy. Nothing more.

"Maybe… Micronesia?" She suggested, her smile slowly fading as she continued gazing up at the stars. "Morocco?"

She heard Daryl grunt, then he rumbled, "Not as nice as the pictures make 'em out ta be. Well – nice ta visit. Not ta live."

 _Nothin's ever as nice as the pictures make it out to be,_ she thought sourly. The photo of her family popped into her head. And then she hastily rubbed her eyes, frustrated with where her mind was drifting. Maybe she _should_ finish that beer.

"Does it gotta be outside of America?" He mumbled dreamily, still looking up at the sky. "Always thought Hawaii might be nice. Met a few Pacific Islanders that told me 'bout growin' up there – sounds like my kinda people."

"Bet yer right about that," Beth chuckled and looked over to see him turning his head and meeting her tired gaze with a smirk. "Not to mention, your love for _Moana_."

He chuckled softly.

 _I wish it didn't have t'be outside of America_ , she thought, gazing into the dark depths of his eyes. _But it does._

Even though she was trying not to, she was already picturing Daryl learning how to surf in the clear blue waters off a beach in Hawaii. Why was it so easy to imagine a future with him, no matter the setting?

"You gonna run off without me?" His low voice rumbled, and it wasn't what she'd expect to come from his mouth at the moment. But she saw a mischievous glint in his eyes, and then the corner of his mouth tugged upward into a faint smirk.

She smiled back and giggled. "Yeah, _right_. If I run off, I'm takin' you with me – _both_ of you." It sounded like a joke, but she was being honest.

His smirk grew into a half-smile and he laughed quietly, then leaned up to rest on his elbow and look down at her. Without hesitation, Beth reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling it over to rest with hers between them before interlacing their fingers together. She could see his eyelids growing heavy, like hers, but they were both enjoying their time alone too much to care about sleep right now.

"'Member that kid ya met at my shop today? The one that works up front?" Daryl asked, still smirking lazily.

Beth furrowed her brow, Zach's face popping into her head at the mention. "Yeah. What about 'im?"

Daryl raised his eyebrows and said, "'Bout had ta kick his ass this afternoon, after you left."

She let out a laugh. "What – why? I thought you guys were jokin' about that."

"We were. But then he made a comment 'bout how ya look," he explained. "Dwight wanted ta kick his ass, too. That kid _really_ don't know how ta read a room."

Beth laughed again, thinking back to how Zach had been so shocked to find out that she was Daryl's girlfriend. "What'd he say? He's just a dumb kid – he would never say that kinda stuff t'my face. Y'don't gotta _hurt_ him for it."

Daryl scoffed, smirking again. "We barely trust his stupid ass, he'll be gone by Christmas. Might teach him t'watch his mouth if he faced some consequences fer once…"

"Daryl, what'd he say?" Beth repeated, studying his face and realizing he was at least partially serious about taking offense to whatever comment Zach had made.

His smirk disappeared and he briefly furrowed his brow, his voice a low rumble. "He came back an' asked me if you really were my sister, 'cause there was no way a girl as hot as you would want anythin' t'do with some ol' redneck like me."

Beth felt a light stab of guilt in her chest. Even as he repeated it now, she could see the hurt in Daryl's face. He tried to hide it, tried to play it off like it was just an unnecessary comment that had gotten on his nerves. But she could see that he took real offense to it. And now _she_ kind of wanted to kick Zach's ass.

She furrowed her brow, frowning, and muttered, "Maybe you _should_ kick his ass." Then she smiled weakly, but Daryl's eyes had drifted downward, to gaze at his hand as he absent-mindedly traced shapes on the back of hers. She spoke softer, "Not really, though… Who cares what some stupid kid said? You said yerself he's not the sharpest tool. An' he's not even cute, so he _really_ has no room t'be talkin'…"

Her attempt to get a small smirk from him worked, but only for a second. Then he shrugged and scoffed, but continued looking down at their hands. "'S not that I _care_ – I know he was jus' talkin' out of his ass. But it might do him some good t'learn that he can't just say whatever he wants ta some people."

Beth frowned again and hesitated, then said, "I'm not sayin' you don't make a good point, but… you know he's _wrong_ , right?"

Daryl's fingers paused their fidgeting on the back of her hand and she watched him blink thoughtfully before he finally lifted his gaze and met her eyes. She could see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, and he gave another half-shrug. Then he muttered, "Not entirely. Ain't like I try ta _hide_ that I'm some old redneck. But that don't mean he's gotta talk about _you_."

She couldn't suppress the small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, though it faded as she spoke, "'Cept I don't _care_ what some dumbass at yer job has ta say about us bein' together. Or about me, in general. I care that you think it's _true_ – that you think you're not good enough for me or somethin'."

He furrowed his brow and she could see that he hadn't expected her to pick up on his little tell-tale signs. But she was learning how to read him better every day – just like he was learning how to read her. She could see _that_ , too.

He grunted and scrunched his face disinterestedly, but he was looking down at their hands again. "That ain't it… 's just – I'ono. I sure as hell ain't gettin' any younger."

"Who is?" Beth remarked. "Don't worry, _I'll_ keep you young."

Daryl finally chuckled softly, a half-smile cracking his wary expression, and she felt her heart skip happily. He met her eyes and squeezed her hand. "Sure hope so. 'Specially if ya plan on draggin' me halfway across the world."

They laughed quietly together and then he leaned down to kiss her softly, and she closed her eyes and kissed him back. But the aching in her gut was making itself known again.

 _Wait,_ she thought. _Was he being serious about that?_

She didn't think on it too long, though, because their kiss was growing deeper and Daryl was discreetly scooting closer to her. She reached a hand up and gently took hold of the back of his neck to pull his face closer against hers, a delicious heat building between her legs as his tongue parted her lips and invaded her mouth.

Then he was letting go of her hand and she felt his warm palm moving to rest on her tummy, the thin cotton of her T-shirt the only border between their skin, and she could sense his desire to touch her. The heat between her legs was rapidly building, intensifying, and the aching in her gut had evacuated to make room for a growing tightness that she recognized all too well. She dug her fingers into the back of his neck and pressed her mouth to his a little harder, eliciting a low groan from his throat. His hand tensed briefly, but then his fingers began inching downward, quickly finding the hem of her shirt and lifting it just enough to trace feather-light shapes across the skin above her waistband. She shivered at his touch and kissed him hungrily, softly nibbling on his lower lip. He groaned again and his fingers drifted lower, briefly grazing over the small, square patch stuck to her skin.

Then he was slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her jeans, smoothly unbuttoning and unzipping the fly until he could comfortably slip his hand into her panties. She grinned against his mouth, shivering again and running her tongue across his lips before giving another provocative nibble. He wasn't wasting any time tonight, but she liked that.

She was almost certain he was thinking the same as her: that their time alone was probably limited and they should take advantage of it while they could. He growled low in his throat and leaned farther forward, his body pressed against hers now as he propped himself up beside her on one elbow, his other hand snaking into her panties. He continued kissing her hungrily, nipping at her lip whenever she squirmed.

Daryl's fingers found her clit with no trouble, pressing down against the rapidly swelling mound and teasing with small, circular motions and intermittent pressure. Beth gasped against his mouth and her hips reflexively bucked up into his hand, fingers inadvertently digging into the back of his neck. He seemed to swallow her gasps before kissing her harder, nipping at her lower lip again. She squirmed at his touch, pushing herself up against his hand, silently begging for more. The tightness at the very bottom of her stomach kept growing, and the more Daryl's fingers pressed into her clit and teased it, the more intense it felt. Until she could feel the dampness forming in her panties, inches away from his hand.

Everything else around them fell away. Beth forgot about everything except Daryl's hot breath, his warm fingers, the low buzz of insects around them, and the heat of the campfire. They didn't even _need_ the fire anymore, their bodies were producing enough heat that tiny beads of perspiration were forming on the back of her neck. His heavy breathing and soft grunts were the only sounds she cared about, barely audible over her own racing heart and raggedy gasps.

His fingers worked faster, building a pace that sent shivers down Beth's legs. She gripped at his neck, a soft squeal escaping her lips as she tried to resist squirming so hard against his hand. But that only made him smile and kiss her harder, pressing two fingers down against her swollen clit and teasing fiercely. She groaned with frustration, unable to pull away or interrupt the rapidly mounting climax that had taken her by surprise.

Daryl could tell she was getting close already, and with a devilish smile pressed against her lips, he stopped rubbing her clit and swiftly slipped his fingers down, farther into her panties. She gasped in surprise – and anticipation – and kissed him desperately, sinking her teeth into his lower lip. He grunted in response but restrained himself, snaking his index finger down to tentatively swipe at her entrance with the very tip, quickly finding the wetness waiting for him. She shivered and her hips bucked up, pressing her clit against the palm of his hand. He pressed his mouth harder against hers, effectively silencing any protests as he teased her soaking entrance with his fingertip, even though she writhed and squirmed and silently begged him to slip inside.

He broke their kiss and Beth took in a deep breath, submerged in the waves of pleasure washing through her as she gazed up and watched Daryl open his eyes, their faces inches apart. His eyes were hooded and licentious, and his voice came out low and husky, just barely loud enough for her to hear. "Jesus, yer _wet_ – been waitin' fer this, huh?"

She nodded weakly, lips still parted as she took shuddered breaths and pushed against his hand, urging his finger to go farther. Then he leaned down and began kissing her neck, trailing his lips up the most sensitive part of her skin until he reached her ear, breathing heavily into it, "So have I."

Her eyes drifted shut and her mouth was frozen in a small ' _o_ ' as he trailed more kisses along her neck, and then her hips slowed their rhythm so Daryl could slowly and tentatively slip his finger inside her. She gasped and it caught in her throat, overwhelmed by the sudden intensity of pleasure. It felt like her body had been patiently waiting for him to return and reacquaint himself. Her tight walls slowly relaxed, though they felt extra sensitive after two weeks of anxiously waiting.

She hadn't even realized how hard she was digging her nails into the back of his neck until he grunted and nipped at her lower lip. She loosened her grip and relaxed against him as he continued to kiss the softest part of her neck and slipped his finger in and out, gradually building a rhythm. Beth's breaths were coming in shorter gasps, the heat and tightness quickly mounting to its limit. She could feel Daryl's erection poking her in the thigh now, but it was the very last thing on her mind, especially with his hot breath on the nape of her neck and his middle finger teasing her entrance.

"You want more?" He breathed against her skin, immediately followed by a gentle suck on her neck.

She nodded desperately, gasping out, "Y-yeah." And without any more hesitation, his middle finger slipped in beside his index, carefully stretching her walls and sending more waves of pleasure washing up from between her legs. She bucked her hips up to feel his palm pressed against her clit again as he hooked his fingers inside her and navigated his way to that one particular spot.

"Yer gonna come for me, baby," Daryl growled into her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine.

Beth nodded again, any semblance of a response getting caught in her throat as he sped up his rhythm. He pressed his palm down against her swollen clit and continued provoking the building storm that lay past the walls of her entrance, causing her to dig her nails into his skin once more. The bubble was so full, it would burst any second. And his voice had only ensured that.

"I'm," she gasped out, eyes shut tightly and mouth fallen open as her muscles tensed up. "I'm gonna – _come_ , baby…"

He nipped at her earlobe and growled again, speeding up the rhythm with renewed energy as he pressed against that spot inside her with his fingers, both of them frozen in place for a moment. And then it was bursting, and the tightness was suddenly becoming a relief.

Beth tried to quiet herself and stifle the moan, but it escaped her lips as a low, breathy whisper. Daryl quickly pressed his mouth over hers to silence her, kissing her hungrily and slowing his pace as her muscles relaxed all at once, a floodgate opening somewhere deep inside her. She let out a long, deep breath of relief.

As she pulled away from his hand, laying back while he slipped his fingers out and then his hand, she felt his erection poking her in the leg again. She opened her eyes to see him lifting his head away from her neck with swollen lips, face pink and damp with sweat as he gazed down at her. He smirked and an aftershock ran through her body, causing her to shiver. She could see in his eyes what else he wanted to do, and she was eager to return the favor and finally end their bout of abstinence.

"You bring a condom, or…?" She whispered, smirking up at him with her hand still loosely holding the back of his neck.

He raised his eyebrows, pausing and glancing away briefly. Then he replied, "Yeah, actually – "

" _Da-ad_! I have ta pee!" Malachi's voice called out from the tent on the other side of the campfire, and Daryl and Beth both froze.

Then they heard the sound of the tent's zipper being opened and Beth watched Daryl close his eyes and sigh with frustration. But he quickly shrugged it off and gave her an apologetic look, which she returned. She quickly pulled her hands away and began buttoning her pants back up while Daryl groaned and sat up, struggling to adjust the growing problem in his own pants.

She sat up and he turned to face her, grabbing her hand and leaning in to plant a quick kiss on her lips. Then he whispered, "Ta be continued…"

She giggled quietly and nodded in agreement, then watched him stand up to rush over to the tent and help Mal open the flap. She already knew they wouldn't be trying to "continue" tonight – _she_ certainly wouldn't be, knowing that Mal could wake up again and interrupt them at any moment. So while the boys disappeared into the edge of the trees, Beth slipped inside the tent and changed into pajamas.

When Daryl and Mal returned to the tent, she was getting comfortable inside Daryl's sleeping bag. He put Mal back to bed, then gazed down at her with a sleepy half-smile while he quickly changed into pajamas, seeming almost excited to get inside the sleeping bag. And when he did, they quickly cuddled up together, finding plenty of warmth and just enough room for both of them.

They lay together inside the sleeping bag, waiting until Mal's soft snores were coming from the other side of the tent. Then Daryl rolled over to face her, wrapping an arm around her middle and pulling her closer against him. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his shoulder and the pillow.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be," she whispered back, turning her head to plant a soft kiss on his neck. "We got time. We'll sneak away soon."

He grunted and squeezed her, holding her tighter.

With the sound of the crackling fire gone, and brief moments between the chirping of crickets, Beth could hear the faint sound of trickling water again. She thought about the fishing poles and found herself wondering about fishing licenses again.

"You plannin' on goin' fishing?" She whispered.

" _Mm-hmm_ ," he whispered back. "In the mornin'. There's a river nearby."

"Don't you need… licenses? For that?"

" _Hah_. Never really worried much 'bout the paperwork…"

She nodded against his shoulder and remained silent this time. What else would she have expected?

A few moments later, she felt Daryl relaxing again, and then his breathing became steady and he started softly snoring. His arm was still loosely wrapped around her.

Beth lay against him with her eyes closed, feeling more peaceful than she had in a long time. Even if they didn't get the "alone time" they both wanted, it was still worth it to get away from the city – and everything else – for a couple of days. So far, the only thing she _didn't_ like about being out here was how much it actually reminded her of home. Of her family. Of being a kid and feeling normal, and happy.

She'd anticipated something that felt like an escape from reality, like she was putting even more distance between herself and the past that was actively haunting her. She was hoping for that clarity of the mind that mountain air was supposed to bring. But so far, all it had really done was disturb the dust.

And now that she was lying in a tent, cuddled up close to Daryl and trying to fall asleep, hidden away somewhere in the Catskill Mountains, she _knew_ that the aching in her gut should be non-existent. It had gone away temporarily, but it was back. Already. She didn't want to think about why. But at this point, it could be a number of things… Her guilt from holding so much back from Daryl and Mal. Her guilt from the burden of the lie she carried everywhere. Or a knot of anxiety, leftover and built-up from religiously checking headlines every two hours, searching for her family's name and half-expecting her father or sister to be sentenced to death. Or maybe it was a pain of warning, telling her to be ready for that other shoe she'd been waiting to see drop.

Before she drifted off to sleep, she silently prayed, _Please, God, just let it be an ulcer._

 **to be continued…**


	57. you're the failed attempts i never could

_**you're the failed attempts i never could forget**_

 _It was summer. Just like the majority of Beth's most treasured memories. Probably because her birthday was at the end of the summer, which had her excited all the way through July. But mostly because summer had always been the time when she could spend every day with her family, and they'd help her learn new things, like the summer she learned to ride a bike, or the summer she learned how to garden, or the summer she (barely) learned how to rollerblade. Not to mention, the summer she'd learned how to swim, and the summer she'd learned how to ride a horse – which had been the same summer that she'd learned how to rope cattle. Though she'd quickly lost interest because Maggie and Shawn were far more cut out for that kind of stuff – she was still too small to have any real success, even though her daddy had only given her calves to practice on. They still outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds. It frustrated her to no end when she couldn't physically do what her mind was determined to accomplish, and being small meant that happened a lot. So she preferred the activities that weren't size discriminatory._

 _Like fishing. She'd been trailing along behind her daddy, Maggie, and Shawn on their fishing trips since she could walk, though it had usually been a toy fishing pole, or one without a hook or any real bait. Obviously, Beth had never actually caught a fish before, or casted a line or baited a hook. Not by herself anyway. Not that she'd ever pushed for it – the process looked pretty complicated. And nasty. So this summer, her daddy had promised that they would teach her to fish for real on their very first morning fishing trip. He also promised that that meant she would have to bait her own hook, even if it got "gross," and if she caught something, she'd have to get the hook out of its mouth. But that was a given. Beth eagerly agreed to the new challenge, and on the first Saturday morning of summer vacation, she was up before anyone else in the house, wearing her "playing outside" overalls and mud boots, with a child-sized fishing pole and a little, pink tackle box in hand._

 _The sun was just beginning to inch its way toward the horizon, hints of light appearing in the black, star-specked sky above, and the Greene's were trekking through the wild grass in a large, open field, heading toward a pond visible in the distance. It was one of Hershel's four favorite ponds for fishing amongst his dozens of acres of land, and Beth was well acquainted with it by now. It was larger than most of the others on their property, and she knew her daddy had always made sure to take care of the ponds on their land, keeping them well-stocked with fish and maintaining the natural ecosystems already in place. So if you couldn't catch anything from one of his ponds, it definitely wasn't for a lack of fish._

 _For the longest time, Beth had cared more about catching the frogs and tadpoles at the edge of the pond, and swimming in the water, than she had cared about the fish. But now, as she trekked through tall grass and weeds with Momma, Daddy, Shawn, and Maggie, she was more excited than ever to finally catch a real fish. She didn't know why, but she wanted to hold one in her hands. Not that she hadn't done that before – but she wanted to see if it felt any different knowing_ _ **she'd**_ _been the one to pull that fish out of the water. All by herself, with her own strength and willpower. Maybe then she would understand why her daddy seemed so proud of those antlers he'd hung on the living room wall._

 _They were setting up at the edge of the pond and baiting their hooks as the horizon began to change colors. The stars were beginning to gradually fade away, and Annette held a flashlight so everyone could see clearly. She usually didn't join them in fishing, but she liked to come along and sit on the banks to watch, sometimes to sunbathe. And she was always there with a comforting word if Beth got hurt, bandages and kisses at the ready._

 _Beth had no trouble baiting her hook. She felt a little bad when she stabbed the sharp end through the writhing worm in her hand, but she'd seen everyone else do it so many times now that it didn't bother her anymore. Plus, it was the "circle of life" – as her daddy liked to say. Shawn helped her with the more difficult parts of rigging her pole, threading the bobber on, and attaching the hook, but once she had the worm hooked on, it was up to her to make her first cast out into the water._

 _They all worked quietly. Her daddy had always told them that sunrise was the best time to fish, because it was breakfast time and the bugs turned the pond into an all-you-can-eat buffet. But he also told them that the fish had sensitive hearing, and if there were voices and a lot of noise near the water, they would be too scared to take the bait. So whenever they would take these early morning fishing trips, they would all have to be much quieter than usual, keeping their talking to a minimum and maintaining a strict rule of no yelling or splashing. Beth didn't mind that – she liked when Shawn and Maggie had to be quiet, because if they were quiet, they weren't arguing. She got the feeling that the fish didn't actually get that scared, but that her daddy just liked the peace and quiet when he fished. She kind of liked it, too. If she stayed really quiet, and watched closely, she could see fish breaching the surface every few seconds to gulp up bugs._

 _Beth's first attempt at casting out into the water was an utter failure. She didn't understand what had happened. She'd casted her toy poles out into the water a million times, but now that she had a heavy hook and real bait on the end, it was suddenly more difficult. The bobber, hook, and worm fell with a loud 'splat' against the surface of the water, barely a foot away from the muddy bank._

 _She sighed and glanced over at her daddy, Shawn, and Maggie. They were all preoccupied with their own fishing poles, though Shawn glanced over briefly and seemed to notice Beth's failure. He smirked and looked away again, and Beth reeled the line back in with pursed lips, checking to make sure the worm was still attached and wriggling. She was just waiting for the amused laughter from Shawn that was bound to come at any moment. Then she pulled her arm back and focused on casting out again, trying to compensate for the new weight._

 _Another 'splat' on the surface, and the worm sunk sadly into the water just a few feet off the bank, in the shallow water. Beth sighed again and tried not to look at Shawn from the corner of her eye as she reeled her line in and checked the worm. It was writhing much less than before and she was starting to feel bad for making it suffer. But she pulled her arm back and readied herself, focusing harder than last time, with her eyes set on a spot at least twenty feet out, near where Shawn's bobber was floating on the surface._

 _She casted her line out, but didn't even come close to the spot she'd been aiming for. The hook and worm fell into the water clumsily, though it was better than before because she'd finally managed to cast out past the shallow water. Just barely. She decided to leave it be for now and reeled in the bit of extra line, leaving her line taut so she could watch the bobber float at the surface, undisturbed. Then she heard Shawn snickering, and she immediately rolled her eyes in annoyance before turning her head to look over at her big brother and sister._

 _Maggie was gazing out at her bobber in the water, but Shawn was looking at Beth with a mocking smile while he snickered quietly. Beth furrowed her brows angrily and stuck out her tongue at him, causing him to chuckle._

" _Might catch some more a those tadpoles you love so much, but not much else," he taunted._

 _The frustration at her uncooperative fishing pole turned into anger at Shawn's comment and Beth huffed, looking away from him and roughly reeling in her line. She knew he was right, and that's what made it so infuriating._

" _Shawn, don't be a bully," Annette scolded from where she sat in her fold-out chair, about twenty feet behind them. She was reading a book with a small reading light clipped to it, flashlight resting in her lap in case it was needed. But the sky was growing lighter and lighter every minute._

 _Beth watched Shawn from the corner of her eye with smug satisfaction as he frowned and muttered, "Sorry, Momma."_

 _She reeled her line in and checked the hook and bait again to find the worm hanging lifelessly. She sighed and pulled her arm back, making her best attempt at casting out farther. Even though her bait was pretty much dead. As she'd expected, the end of her line plopped down into the water sadly, barely two inches farther than last time. Beth held back a grunt of anger, glancing over to see that her daddy was smiling contently, gazing out at the water and patiently waiting for a fish to take his bait._

" _Ooh! Got a bite," Maggie chirped, grinning as she pulled lightly on her pole and began slowly reeling the line in._

 _Beth's heart leapt and she looked over to watch as her big sister carefully reeled in the fish that was tugging on her line. Hershel was watching, too, an excited glint in his eyes._

" _You gonna get the first catch today, Mags?" He smiled, watching as his oldest daughter played tug-of-war with a fish._

" _This better be a big one if yer fightin' it that much," Shawn commented, watching with a smirk._

 _Maggie scoffed, continuing to reel the line in. "Gonna watch you eat yer words."_

 _Shawn chuckled and Beth smiled as they watched their big sister reel the line up into the shallow water, until it was finally close enough that she could reach out and grab the line to pull it up. And with it came a green-and-black speckled crappie, barely twice the size of Maggie's hand, its mouth latched firmly around the hook. Beth had seen a million other fish just like it, as it was their most common catch, and they were constantly reeling them in and throwing them back. Maggie looked proud, nonetheless, and so did Hershel._

" _Good one, Maggie," Annette called from her chair, watching with a smile._

" _First catch a the day, not bad," Hershel commented._

" _Mine'll be better," Shawn teased._

 _Maggie had both hands occupied with the fish now, focused on unhooking its mouth and setting it free. She was grinning until she heard Shawn's comment, then she looked up to glare at him. Without another word, she slipped the hook from the crappie's mouth and chucked the fish directly at Shawn's face. It made contact with his cheek, a loud 'slap' as it hit him and fell to the ground._

" _OW!" He cried, one hand flying to cup his cheek while Maggie laughed and the crappie flopped around helplessly in the mud._

" _Margaret!" Annette immediately scolded. "That is_ _ **not**_ _how we treat fish. Now pick it up an' put it back in the water."_

 _Maggie's smile disappeared and she responded, "Sorry, Momma…"_

 _Shawn was still rubbing his cheek, brows furrowed together angrily as he glared at Maggie. Hershel grunted in frustration._

" _Would y'all be quiet? I'd like ta catch something today, too," he scolded._

 _There was a quiet 'splash' as Maggie tossed the fish back out into the water, and Beth had watched everything silently, suppressing her laughter with a smile on her face. She really loved seeing Shawn and Maggie get in trouble. Though she was a little jealous that Maggie had gotten the first catch of the day._

 _It took several more attempts, but Beth was finally able to make a decent cast. She nearly reached the spot next to where Shawn's bobber was floating. And then it turned into a waiting game. Eventually, she was standing on the bank of the pond, gazing out at her bobber in the water and waiting for a fish to bite, just like Hershel, Maggie, and Shawn were doing._

 _Within about twenty minutes, as the sun was peeking over the horizon and turning the sky a bright orange-purple, Hershel, Maggie, and Shawn were all getting tugs on their lines. Beth could see their bobbers making that familiar dip below the surface – the dip that made her heart jump with excitement, because she knew it meant there was a fish biting at it. And then they were carefully reeling in, playing a carefully calculated game to assure that the hook was latched into the fish's mouth before trying to pull it to shore. Hershel's fish breached the surface first, a crappie about twice the size of the one that Maggie had caught. Then Shawn reeled in a bluegill the size of his hand, and Maggie reeled in a bare hook._

 _Shawn laughed at first, until Maggie grunted in frustration and reminded him, "That bluegill you got barely weighs more'an yer hook, what're you so proud of?" Beth laughed and Shawn's smile quickly disappeared. He was about to retort, but Hershel shot him a stern glare that made him shut his mouth, focusing on unhooking his fish and tossing it back out into the water instead. Maggie put a new worm on her hook and cast out again with a discreet smile of satisfaction on her face, while Hershel threw back his fish before doing the same._

 _Beth gazed out at the water, watching her bobber intently and trying to send a telepathic message to the fish to take her bait. There was even more action coming to the surface as the life within the pond woke up and scrounged around for breakfast. She knew it was just a matter of time and that she had to be patient, but patience had never been one of her strong suits. Especially when she could see her daddy's bobber barely dipping below the surface, and then Maggie's, immediately followed by Shawn's. It was like the fish were teasing them, taking small tastes of the buffet before making their selection. Then Beth saw her own bobber dip below the surface. But it didn't come back up._

 _She grinned in excitement and felt the tell-tale tug on her pole, gentle but firm as her line immediately went taut and the red-and-white bobber disappeared. She quickly began reeling in, her small fingers working as fast as they could, gripping the reel handle tightly. Her heart was racing and she felt the line grow a little lighter, which was odd, but she couldn't think about anything until that bobber was close enough for her to reach out and grab it. And she did, pulling the line with it. But instead of a fish appearing from below the surface… it was just a bare hook._

 _No wonder the line had been so light._

" _Ya reeled it in too fast, Bethy," Hershel said, and Beth looked over to see that her daddy had been watching her from where he stood._

 _She frowned, holding the limp line in her hand with nothing more than a stripped hook on the end. "But I felt it bite."_

 _Maggie glanced over and Shawn was looking, too, but he seemed to be keeping his comments to himself for now. Maggie commented, "You gotta make sure the hook catches, or else they'll rip yer bait off an' swim away."_

 _Beth nodded in understanding and looked back down at the hook hanging from the end of her line, trying to imagine a fish tugging on the end of her lifeless worm until she yanked it free – essentially giving that lucky fish a free meal. Then she thought about how it was kind of her own fault for torturing her bait and flinging it out into the water. It had probably been just barely hanging onto the hook by that point, anyway. No wonder she hadn't reeled anything in._

" _Gotta be_ _ **patient**_ _ta catch somethin' – I don't think she's capable a that," Shawn remarked with a smug smirk._

 _Beth looked over to glare at him. Maggie rolled her eyes and said, "Stop actin' like yer so good at fishin', Shawn – she's_ _ **eight**_ _. You wouldn't even bait yer own hook until_ _ **last**_ _ **year**_ _."_

 _Shawn's face fell and Beth laughed. He shot her a glare but she stuck her tongue out at him. Maggie smirked and went back to watching her bobber._

 _Beth fetched another nightcrawler from the Styrofoam container her daddy had brought along – most of which she'd caught herself. She struggled to grasp its slimy, writhing body between her small fingers and impale it with the sharp end of her hook. Although this one was easier than the last one, and she didn't wince away so badly when she felt the hook penetrating the worm's flesh. Then she was ready to cast out again, which she managed to do successfully on her first attempt, surprisingly. It still didn't make it nearly as far out as she'd hoped, but it worked. Her bobber was once again floating atop the water alongside her dad's and siblings'._

 _The sun was rising from behind the horizon and filling the sky with bright light, the day's first wave of warmth sweeping over the green field where the pond sat, dew drops glistening. With another fifteen or twenty minutes, everyone but Beth had gotten multiple nibbles on their lines, and Hershel and Shawn had both reeled in two more fish each. The largest one yet was a bass that Hershel had proudly held up for his family to see before gently tossing it back into the water. When he caught another bass a few minutes later, slightly smaller than that one, he kept it – attaching it to a stringer in the shallow part of the water inches away from the muddy bank, where it would swim in place with their other catches until they were done fishing._

 _When she finally did get a nibble on her line, and her bobber dipped beneath the surface and she felt the light tug on her pole, she would get excited and try her best to patiently reel the line in. Beth tried to reenact the way she'd seen her sister do it, or her daddy, or even Shawn with some of his better catches. But four tugs later, and four wasted worms, and she had nothing to show for it. Somehow, she wasn't getting her hook inside the fish's mouth – or maybe there was just a particularly smart fish down there, bullying her? She knew it was more likely that she was just doing something wrong._

 _She tried not to let her frustration show, but huffs and sighs and angry grunts came out – habits that she seemed to share with the rest of the Greene's. And Shawn would snicker, but Beth would ignore him. Maggie tried to offer advice, but Beth became even more frustrated when she couldn't manage to utilize the advice. All the while, her daddy watched her, offering small words of encouragement but mostly focusing on his own fishing line. And her momma sat back and watched, too, reading and 'hmm'ing with slight interest every now and then, too engrossed in her book at this point. Beth tried to remember that she'd had similar struggles with her past endeavors, like riding a bike and rollerblading. It had taken dozens of skinned knees and elbows before she managed to stay upright. But that had all depended on her balance alone. Fishing depended on doing something correctly that she couldn't entirely control, which was even more frustrating._

 _By the sixth time that Beth had reeled in something that was not a fish – this time, the worm was only half-eaten – she growled angrily and stomped her boot into the mud, splashing a little up onto her overalls. With frustration, she pulled her arm back and cast out into the water for the hundredth time that morning. Shawn seemed to have grown bored with making fun of her, because he'd stopped snickering at her failure and teasing her. He glanced over and shook his head, reeling in his line a bit as he teased a hesitant fish._

 _Her daddy had been watching her, though, and he commented first. "Ain't gonna get somethin' right the first time around, Bethy. You just gotta keep tryin'. Practice makes perfect."_

 _Maggie sniggered and Beth knew it was because their daddy loved preaching the same old adages time and time again, and by now, the Greene children had them memorized. And sometimes they repeated them while doing their best impressions of Hershel – when he wasn't around, of course._

 _Maggie commented, "Y'know what they say: gotta fail before you can succeed."_

 _Shawn snickered and added, "Gotta fall 'fore you can fly."_

 _Beth was half-smiling now, side-eying her siblings as her daddy gazed out at the water, oblivious to the inside joke between his children. She let out a giggle and reeled her line back in as she shared a quiet laugh with Shawn and Maggie._

 _Then she tried again. Just like her daddy had said._

 _Because as much as it was a joke to the Greene kids, it was also their life. They found humor where they could, but they also knew that their daddy was very adamant about his beliefs, and one of those beliefs was that '_ _ **nothing**_ _is impossible to a truly determined person.' There was no quitting or saying, "I just can't" in this family. There was trying, and there was trying harder. But there was no throwing the towel in. Ever._

 _And sure enough, after six or seven more worms and over a dozen nibbles that turned into nothing but disappointments, Beth caught an actual fish. The sun was already above the horizon, slowly rising in the sky, and her momma had put on a sunhat and shut off her little book light. Hershel, Shawn, and Maggie had already caught at least three fish each, and when Beth reeled in a crappie smaller than the bluegill Shawn caught, she felt immensely proud of herself._

 _It had been an entirely new and gratifying experience to feel the weight of the fish on the end of her line, and to see it emerge from the water when she pulled it out. She'd touched and held plenty of fish before, but it was different when she'd been the one to pull it to shore, and when it was her sole responsibility to pull the hook from its mouth. She struggled to hold it still, scaly body squirming and flopping in her small hands. It was so full of life, so upset about being pulled from the water. So_ _ **slimy**_ _._

 _She could see the fear in its small, round eyes – how had she never noticed that pure panic before? She was starting to feel kind of bad for it. Could the fish feel the pain of the hook in its mouth? She'd never really wondered before. Or maybe she'd just innocently assumed that it couldn't feel pain, or that fishing somehow didn't cause_ _ **any**_ _kind of pain or suffering. So what about those worms? Could bugs feel pain, too?_

 _Beth tried not to think about all these things, reminding herself that Shawn and Maggie would call her a big baby if they found out she felt bad for some stupid fish or nightcrawlers. She managed to free the crappie from her hook, and she'd gotten a decent enough grasp on its body that she could pick it up and hold it out for everyone to see._

" _Daddy! Momma! I caught my first real fish!" She declared excitedly, grinning as she looked around at her family, mostly focusing on her parents._

 _Hershel and Annette looked over at Beth's fish, both of them immediately smiling. Annette clapped happily. "Oh, Bethy, your first fish!" She quickly set down her book to begin rummaging through the bag she'd brought, looking for her camera._

 _The fish writhed in Beth's hand, but she maintained her grip on its tail. Her daddy beamed proudly. "What'd I tell ya, Doodlebug? Just takes a little patience – and look at that payoff! Nothin' quite like reelin' in your first catch."_

 _Maggie smiled and commented, "Not bad, Bethy. Almost bigger than Shawn's, but I was expectin' that."_

" _Hey!" Shawn remarked, shooting his older sister a glare before looking over at Beth and her fish. "Yeah, looks good, butthead. But let's see if you can do it again."_

 _Beth stuck her tongue out at Shawn before turning to face her momma, who had finally found the camera. For some reason, Annette had never quite moved on to digital cameras, and she still used those plastic disposable cameras that most people no longer bothered with. It had produced hundreds of Walmart-developed photos that filled multiple albums and scrapbooks. She held the plastic camera up to her eye to look through the viewfinder while Beth held her fish up and smiled, posing in front of the pond, all muddy overalls and messy, blonde hair._

 _When the photo finally came out, Beth wasn't even upset that Shawn and Maggie were in it, too. Her momma slipped it into the "Bethany's Firsts" scrapbook she'd been compiling since shortly after Beth was born, and Hershel loved showing off his youngest daughter's first catch to family and close friends, even years after the fact._

 _Once her momma had a good photo, Beth tried to toss the fish back into the water as gently as possible, silently apologizing for putting a hole in its cheek. It disappeared into the muddy depths and swam off, and she went about sticking another worm on her hook to make her next catch. Hershel had to scold Shawn and Maggie for talking too much again, but they quickly fell silent, and then the Greene's were back to fishing quietly while the early morning sun rose higher in the sky._

 _By the time Annette was demanding that each of the Greene children come to her for an application of sunscreen, the stringer was holding five good-sized fish – most of which had been caught by Hershel. It was routine for them all to fish, and the kids mostly released their catches, while Hershel would keep the seven most meal-worthy fish and take them back home. If they were particularly large, he threw them back, explaining that he didn't want to disrupt the food chain inside the pond too drastically. But it was a somewhat special honor to catch a fish and have Dad think it was good enough to be cleaned and cooked up for the whole family to eat, and Maggie had already reeled a fish in that had gotten her a proud clap on the back from Hershel_ _ **and**_ _a spot on the stringer._

 _And while Beth was letting her momma slather sunscreen all over her arms, neck, and face, Shawn reeled in another catch, this time a good-sized bass. As he held it up for everyone to see, Hershel complimented it and then told him to put it on the stringer, which Shawn did eagerly. Beth watched restlessly, resisting the urge to tell Momma to hurry up with the sunscreen so she could get back to trying to catch something that could be included on the stringer. Finally reeling in her first fish had been one thing, but being able to catch something that would end up on their dinner table? That would be something she could_ _ **really**_ _be proud of. She_ _ **was**_ _supposed to be a "gifted student," after all – at least, that's what they kept telling her at school._

 _As soon as she was fully protected from the sun, Beth rushed back to her fishing pole and hurriedly stabbed a worm onto the hook. Then she casted out into the water, glancing over at her family every few seconds to see if they were getting any more bites. It seemed that breakfast was coming to an end because their bobbers weren't dipping below the surface nearly as often, and Shawn and Maggie were beginning to look bored with watching their unmoving lines._

 _Beth felt a few nibbles and tried to reel something in, but she moved too quickly each time and scared the fish away. She remembered the advice she'd been given earlier, about waiting for just the right time. She had to earn the fish's trust, make sure its mouth was fully wrapped around the bait, before pulling the line and hopefully catching onto something with the sharp end of the hook. It was even tougher when she was going completely by feel, gauging the tugs on the line and the slight dips of the bobber. But that was what really made it a challenge. You never knew_ _ **what**_ _might come out of that water._

" _Those pancakes are callin' to me, honey," Annette spoke up from her chair, words directed at Hershel._

" _Me, too, darlin'," Hershel responded. "One more good catch an' we'll head in."_

 _Beth couldn't have timed the tug on her line better if she'd planned it, and something in her_ _ **knew**_ _that this was a big one. She forced herself to remain calm, to focus and be patient. She waited for one tug. Two. The bobber dipped below the surface briefly, then it dipped again for much longer. Then the line went taut, and Beth took her chance to give the pole a light yank. The bobber disappeared below the surface and there was a strong tug on the line – it nearly pulled the pole right out of her small hands because she hadn't been prepared for such a fierce opposition. But she gritted her teeth and pulled back, immediately moving one hand down to grip the reel handle and begin reeling in the line._

 _The fish on the other end was refusing to give up easily. It pulled and tugged, fighting the whole way, and Beth reeled slowly, then quickly, then slowly again. She tried to ease the fish to shore, letting it fight back here and there, waiting for it to grow tired before reeling some more. She tried to emulate the things she'd seen everyone else do, and what they'd told her. When it reached shallow waters, it began to splash at the surface, wriggling and fighting as Beth prayed that her line wouldn't break. She was almost there._

" _Holy – Beth, pull it in!" Shawn said, the flailing and splashing of the fish catching his attention._

" _I'm_ _ **tryin'**_ _!" Beth grunted, tugging and reeling and gripping with all her might._

" _Oh my – that thing's_ _ **huge**_ _!" Maggie commented from where she stood as the fish emerged from the shallow waters. It was dragging along the mud while Beth pulled it in so she could reach out for it without breaking the line by lifting it up._

 _Once it was within arm's reach, Beth wrapped her small fingers around its wet, scaly body, a huge grin on her face. It flopped and flailed wildly, scales shining in the sunlight as its mouth opened and closed repeatedly. Its beady eyes stared up at her in fear and confusion, and she tried to focus on its mouth, where the hook was embedded through its flesh. It was a bass, probably bigger than her head. When she finally picked it up by the tail, she had to use both hands because it was so heavy._

" _Well, I'll be," Hershel commented, setting down his fishing pole and walking over to look closer. He was beaming proudly again, eyes wide with surprise. "I think this jus' might be Number Seven today."_

 _Maggie let out a triumphant laugh. "_ _ **Hah**_ _! She already beat you, Shawn. Took you three trips before you caught somethin' worth cleanin'!"_

 _Beth grinned even wider and laughed along with her big sister while Shawn scoffed and rolled his eyes. She didn't even stop smiling as she watched her daddy hook the fat bass onto the stringer. She was still feeling extremely proud of herself as they all packed up for the day and made the trek back to the house for breakfast._

 _It only started to feel different once they'd gotten away from the pond. She kept her eyes locked on the big, white bucket her daddy was carrying, and stole a peek inside at the cramped fish every chance she got. After they got home, the bucket of fish sat on the porch until they had all finished breakfast. Beth slipped outside first and watched her fat bass flopping around in the water, identifiable even among the six other fish they'd kept. She knew what was coming next, because Shawn was excited for it and had been talking about it the whole time they were eating their pancakes. And she also knew it was no different than any other time they'd ever caught fish and had them for dinner – she'd seen the process a thousand times, it was nothing new or shocking to her._

 _But somehow, it felt different. It just did. She'd caught that fish herself, she'd pulled it from whatever life it had been living in that pond and she'd forced it onto land, hurt it with a hook, and then shoved it into a bucket with six other fish. She'd felt the way it fought when she was reeling it in, and she'd fought back just as hard. A big part of her had wanted really badly to throw it back out into the water right after she'd caught it. But her daddy had looked so proud and happy, and her momma was so ready to go home and have breakfast. And wasn't that what Beth had wanted, anyway? To catch something_ _ **really**_ _good, so good that everybody would say, "wow, Beth sure is gifted at everything she tries"?_

 _It had been. All she'd wanted was to feel the pride of pulling a fish from the water. She wanted to know what it was like to see the pay-off from all that patience and "right timing." But when she found herself standing on the porch, watching Maggie and Shawn gut and clean her bass, watching the panic in its eyes turn to blank death… that pay-off wasn't there anymore. She tried to tell herself it was just a stupid fish, who cared if it felt pain or not? They fished and ate fish all the time. It was another part of the circle of life that Daddy talked about._

 _But she couldn't deny how much better it had felt to throw a fish back out into the water than it did to pull one in. And she couldn't deny the guilt she felt when she watched Shawn slice that fat bass's head off. Why had she bothered with all the patience and right timing? Just to pull that living thing from the water and torture it, cause it pain, kill it? She'd taunted it with a good meal, taken advantage of its trusting and oblivious nature, and then yanked it ashore so they could shove it in a bucket and cut its head off?_

 _Beth had thought catching a fish all by herself would feel different. Not worse. She was a farm girl, she wasn't supposed to be so sensitive about this kind of stuff. She was a Greene, she was supposed to be tough. She thought she'd be proud to be sitting at the dinner table, knowing one of the fish they were eating was one she'd caught._

 _But she just kept thinking about its little, panic-filled, beady eyes staring up at her. And its mouth opening and closing, silently gasping for air. Silently pleading for its life._

* * *

"Hey – y'all gettin' up? It's prime fishin' time!"

Dwight's voice cut harshly through Beth's deep sleep, and she felt Daryl waking up beside her and lifting his head. She kept her eyes closed, on the edge of falling back to sleep while cocooned in the warmth of the sleeping bag. But Daryl's rumbling voice stopped her.

"Yeah," he called out. "Gettin' up now, gimme a minute. Make some coffee, would ya?"

"Honey's already got breakfast started," Dwight's voice came again from the front of the tent. "Better hurry 'fore I eat all the bacon."

Then, as she'd expected at any moment, Beth heard Malachi's voice chirp up. "There's bacon? Dad, I have ta pee!"

She heard Daryl sigh beside her and felt his arm tighten its grip around her momentarily, then she felt him softly kissing her neck. He whispered against her skin, "I know yer awake, babe – might as well get up with me."

A sleepy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. _Why don't you ever call me that when we're both fully awake?_ She wanted to ask. But she was way too tired to form words just yet.

She lifted her eyelids to see Daryl's face inches away, blinking until her vision was clear, and roughly rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The tent was still dark, and she could see that there was no hint of sunlight outside. She furrowed her brow. "But it's _so-o_ early…"

Daryl grunted. "A toddler's bladder waits for no one." Then he pecked another kiss on her cheek and sat up, stretching his arms before crawling out of the sleeping bag to walk over and help Mal.

Beth sighed and rolled back over, fighting sleep again. She forced herself to sit up, roughly rubbing her eyes in an attempt to wake up. Dwight and Sherry had turned on most of the lights outside, sending a faint glow through the walls of the tent, and when Daryl and Mal opened the flap of the tent to slip outside, it let in a cold breeze, disrupting the blanket of warmth that had settled over the inside of the tent. Beth shivered and quickly got out of the sleeping bag, changing clothes in record time.

She slipped on two layers before pulling on a thick pair of socks and then her boots. Her bladder was full and she moved to head out the front of the tent and join the boys at the edge of the woods to relieve herself, but then she stopped and eyed her bag again. Taking advantage of her few minutes of solitude, she quickly reached down to the bottom of the bag, grabbing her phone and turning it on. She knew there wouldn't be a signal, but she couldn't resist checking. The screen told her it was currently 4:17 a.m. on Saturday, September 30th, and that she had "No Service." Her stomach clenched and she hoped it was just her bladder, because there was another feeling at the back of her head that wouldn't leave her alone.

There was a certain chill in her bones that she couldn't quite describe, and for some reason, she thought about the Amygdala – something she'd learned about in one of her senior year AP classes. It was the part of the brain that detected fear, one of the most primal parts of the human brain that had been there since the beginning of mankind. It remained in every human's brain because of how deeply instinctual and vital to survival it was. She wasn't quite sure why she was suddenly thinking about it now, but she had to ask herself… Could that be what this feeling was? Was her own brain picking up on things that she couldn't? Trying to warn her? Or was she just being overly paranoid again, finding a way to ruin the trip for herself when she'd looked forward to the small opportunity at getting away? She also remembered learning about the physical effects that could be caused to the human body by deeply repressed emotions, like guilt. But did it help to think about that right now? Or did it just make the ache inside grow more intense?

Either way, she knew that it wasn't doing any good, so she turned the phone off again and shoved it back down to the bottom of her bag, beneath all her clothes. Then she turned and left the tent, hurrying to the edge of the woods to find Daryl and Mal already on their way back.

Once everyone was done taking their morning bathroom trips, getting dressed, and brushing their teeth and hair, they all sat down on the logs around the small fire Dwight had built, which had a small stand for cooking set over it. Sherry had already cooked breakfast over the fire, portioning fried eggs and bacon out onto plates for everyone. The sky was still black and full of twinkling stars, a few dark clouds passing by, and they ate by the light of the solar-powered lanterns. Mal was bursting with energy for such an early hour of the morning, but Dwight and Daryl seemed used to being up so early as they sipped coffee and offered refills to Sherry and Beth.

Mal knew what they were planning because he kept talking about fishing and how he wanted to catch frogs _and_ fish, and then he asked "Rosie" if she knew how to fish. And if she did, what was the biggest fish she ever caught? She answered all his questions with a smile, thinking back to that photo of her first catch. The photo that probably still sat inside a scrapbook somewhere in the Greene farmhouse. She asked Mal if he'd ever hunted for nightcrawlers to use as bait and he said no, immediately asking Daryl if they were going to do that. Daryl chuckled in response and assured his son that they'd brought along some live bait in the cooler, but that if he _really_ wanted to, he could hunt for some worms on the way to the river. The toddler decided he _really_ wanted to do that, and Beth immediately volunteered to help him. Then she shared a brief smile with Daryl as they sat together on the log. He nudged her knee lightly with his and she smiled wider.

After all the bacon and coffee was gone, everyone joined in to help clean up. Then Mal requested another bathroom trip and Daryl escorted him to the edge of the trees while Dwight and Sherry volunteered to get all the fishing gear ready to go. Beth helped gather their stuff together, finding that it didn't take very long, and when Daryl and Mal still hadn't returned, Dwight stood by and lit up a cigarette, and Sherry retreated into their tent to "do something" with her hair. Beth decided that wasn't a bad idea and slipped inside her and Daryl's tent to do the same.

She found a small hand mirror among Daryl's things and used it to quickly braid part of her hair. The different length strands had already been getting in her face, and she didn't want to repeatedly tuck it behind her ears with muddy hands. When she was done, the hair around the crown of her head was braided together neatly, all the messy flyaways and loose strands pulled back and off her face while the rest hung loosely against the back of her neck. She wouldn't normally expose her face so openly in the city, but since they were out in the middle of nowhere, she didn't have to worry about strangers or cameras. It was kind of refreshing to see herself with a cute, braided hairstyle, like she used to love wearing from time to time. Though she wasn't sure if this was Beth peeking through from behind the thin "Rosie" veil, or if she was subconsciously trying to merge the two into one.

When she emerged from the tent, Daryl and Mal were returning from the edge of the trees. After a thorough tick check and spray down of repellent – for everyone – they all prepared to make their way into the trees and toward the river. The toddler eagerly grabbed up anything that the adults would allow him to carry, which ended up being a small, red tackle box with "MALACHI" spelled out across the front in colorful stickers, and a child-sized fishing pole. Daryl carried a bag on his back, his tackle box, and his own pole, offering one to Beth, which she happily accepted and rested on her shoulder while she walked.

Dwight brought along the Styrofoam container full of live bait that had been inside the cooler, as well as his and Sherry's tackle box and poles, while Sherry carried a bag on her back and held a bright flashlight to illuminate their paths. Daryl gave the other flashlight to Beth, and she mostly used it to make sure the toddler grasping onto her and Daryl's hands was walking safely through the trees while they trekked closer to the sound of rushing water. The trees were extremely dark, and somehow even colder than the open area of their campsite had been. But that didn't stop Mal from checking every wet patch of earth they came across, turning over rocks and venturing off the path to find particularly messy patches of mud.

Beth tried to keep up, keeping a flashlight on him all the time and making sure he was careful where he stepped, second-glancing every plant he came into contact with. Daryl was attentive as well, reminding his son that there would be plenty of mud to hunt around in at the river. But Mal insisted on hunting for at least a few nightcrawlers before they got there, and Beth happily joined him, reminding Daryl that the fresher the bait was, the better it would work. He chuckled and shook his head at that, but watched with amusement whenever they would pause and stick their fingers into the muddy earth, grasping at the slimy ends of worms that were trying to escape.

A faint scent of rain and fresh water hung in the air, combined with the smell of soil, dead leaves, maple, and rotting wood. It _almost_ reminded Beth of the woods behind the farmhouse, but she didn't allow her mind to drift in that direction right now. There were low rumbles of thunder coming from the sky every ten minutes or so, and she spotted a couple of brief flashes of lightning when she wasn't crouched down in the mud with Mal. Dwight and Daryl commented on how the worms would really be coming out soon if it ended up raining before they got done fishing, and Mal grew even more excited. There was a light layer of fog beginning to form over the ground as they approached the edge of the trees and the sound of rushing water grew louder. Beth and Mal had managed to catch five worms together and add them to Dwight's Styrofoam container, and as soon as they emerged from the trees, the toddler forgot all about worms and began rushing toward the muddy banks of the slow-flowing river.

Daryl called after his son and hurried to grab his arm and pull him a safe distance away from the edge of the water. Then the group joined them and began setting up in the mud, grass, and rocks, keeping their tackle boxes and bags on the dry rocks and away from the water or mud. Beth got Mal to rinse his hands in the shallow water of the river with her, washing off all the mud and worm slime from their walk. Sherry and Dwight sat perched on large rocks, rigging their poles and quietly talking with each other. Daryl made sure to help Mal set up his little kid pole first, attaching a colorful lure with no sharp ends or real weight to it on the end of his line. Then he led the toddler to the water and helped him cast out, and as soon as Mal seemed to remember the last time he'd gone fishing, he was going through the motions without assistance. Daryl stepped away to rig his own pole and slide some real bait onto a sharp hook.

Beth rigged the pole Daryl had given her to use, recalling the hundreds of times she'd gone fishing in one of her daddy's ponds. She barely needed any light from the flashlight to know what she was doing, and then she was impaling a worm with the sharp end of her hook, ready to make her first cast. When she looked up to see if Daryl was ready, she found him gazing at her with an intrigued expression ghosting across his face. He quickly looked back down at his own worm and hook.

"Looks like ya know what yer doin'," he muttered, ensuring that the nightcrawler was securely on his hook before glancing up to meet her eyes again.

"Not like I've never been fishin' before," Beth smiled, fingers absent-mindedly fidgeting with the worm wrapped around her hook. "My dad taught me. And my siblings."

" _Hmm_ ," he nodded and smirked. Then he briefly gestured toward her hair and mumbled, "I like the braid. An' the one you was wearin' the other day. Looks uh, real pretty. On you."

She felt herself blushing, thankful that the flashlight wasn't focused on her, even though he turned his face away reticently as soon as the words had left his mouth. She smiled sheepishly. "Thanks."

He leaned forward and reached out to gently grab her hand, silently guiding her to walk with him toward the edge of the water, still not quite meeting her gaze. Mal was pacing around in the mud and attempting to fish when Daryl and Beth approached with their poles, ready to cast out. Dwight and Sherry stood on the other side of the toddler, a few feet away and with enough distance between each of them that their lines didn't get tangled. Mal was laughing and chatting animatedly to no one in particular, and the sound of rushing water was barely louder than his voice, but everything else was silent around them. The crickets were gradually dying down with their incessant chirping, and except for scattered noises here and there from woodland critters, the wilderness around them was relatively quiet.

The river was probably no more than fifty feet across, and though Beth couldn't tell how deep it actually got, she could see that it flowed for miles in both directions. They were fishing in a small clearing on one side of the river, but the opposite side was more brush and thick trees, a darkness that was impossible to see into. And the clearing they were in was only about a thousand square feet, with more endless trees on either side. It seemed like a part of the mountains that would be easy to get lost in if you didn't know where you were going. But it was also isolated, and based on its appearance, as well as the appearance of the campsite, it seemed that there weren't a whole lot of people who knew about this area of the Catskills.

She looked over at Daryl, watching for a moment as he barely reeled in his line, blue eyes set on the water and his bobber floating on the surface. He looked the most content she'd seen him possibly all week, and it made the aching in her gut fade away the tiniest bit.

She spoke just loud enough that he could hear her over the water, "So is this like, a secret camping spot or somethin'?"

He turned his head to meet her gaze and flashed a smirk, taking a small step closer to her before replying, "Nah, not really. But it's not that well-known, either. Ain't nobody gonna bother us out here fer licenses or whatever. 'S why me an' Dwight like it. We found it a couple years ago, came out here a few times last year."

Beth smiled. "Oh – cool. It's really beautiful out here. An' quiet."

 _I sure got lucky finding somebody who appreciates their privacy so much,_ she thought.

" _Mmhmm_ ," he agreed, a content half-smile on his face.

" _Hey-y_ , first catch a the day goes ta me!" Dwight announced, immediately drawing Daryl's, Beth's, and Mal's attention. "No surprise there, though!"

Sherry laughed and they all watched Dwight free a small, brown trout from his hook and hold it up for them to see. It was about the length of his forearm and couldn't have weighed more than four or five pounds. But he beamed proudly nonetheless, and when Mal dropped his pole on the rocks and rushed over to get a closer look, Dwight leaned down and held the fish still for the toddler.

" _Wo-ow!_ Dad, d'you see the fish?!" Mal grinned, glancing over his shoulder at Daryl as he ran his tiny fingers along the scaly side of the trout.

"Yeah, buddy, ain't that cool?" Daryl smiled. "Think yer gonna catch one a those today?"

Mal laughed and gave the fish one last ' _boop'_ on its nose before skipping back over to his fishing pole and picking it up to make another cast out into the water. "Yeah, I am!"

Dwight gently tossed the fish back into the river, and Beth watched as it disappeared into the flowing, dark water. She'd felt a few tugs on her own line, but nothing had taken her bait yet. Although she wasn't that worried about catching anything because she was having more fun watching Daryl and Mal fish together, and listening to Daryl and Dwight occasionally tease each other.

The sky was beginning to gradually lighten, hints of a sunrise coming from the horizon as the stars faded away one-by-one and the black turned to gray, then deep purple. More clouds appeared and slowly drifted across, obstructing the stars and the changing colors, growing darker and angrier. There was a promise of rain palpable in the air now, and the rumbles of thunder were coming more often, sounding closer each time. Rapid flashes of lightning turned the sky into a strobe light for a few seconds every five minutes. Beth wasn't sure if there was any correlation, but the closer the storm got, the more often her bobber was dipping below the water. It was like the fish could sense the approaching storm, even from beneath the dark depths of the rushing river. She thought about the Amygdala again – but only for a second. Then she caught herself and turned her attention to Mal instead.

"Dad, what if it rains?" The toddler asked, peering up at his dad with big, blue eyes.

Daryl shrugged, still gazing out at his bobber in the water. "Then we'll put on our ponchos. Ain't afraid a gettin' a li'l wet, are ya?"

Mal laughed and shook his head. "No! I didn't – um, you um, did you bring the ponch-toes? Mine has um, mine has Moana on it."

Daryl chuckled and nodded. "Yes, son, a course I brought 'em, even yer Moana one. They're in the bag."

Beth looked up toward the sky and watched the clouds moving slowly, more of them appearing from off in the distance. The smell of rain was growing stronger by the minute. Then she felt a strong tug on her pole and immediately looked to find the source, spotting her bobber completely submerged in the middle of the river. Her heart leapt and she grabbed for the reel handle. Something had taken her bait.

She acted without much thought, relying on muscle memory that was deeply ingrained in her movements. Within a few seconds, she'd made sure not to rip the hook out of the fish's mouth, and she'd also managed to keep the line taut without snapping it. But the flowing water of the river was different than the calm, still waters of the Georgia ponds she was accustomed to, so she had to pause more often than she normally would've, giving the fish its chance to calm down and trying to catch it by surprise as she reeled it in. There were a few times when she was almost certain it would get away, or her line would snap.

Daryl noticed the action and she heard his deep voice commenting from where he stood, "Woah – reel that sucker in, babe!"

Beth grinned, letting out a laugh but refusing to look away from her line in the water. She was so excited that she nearly missed what he said, but she filed it away for later.

There was splashing against the surface where the fish was fighting her, flailing wildly and tugging against her pulls. Once it had reached shallow waters, only about a foot away from the bank, she turned her head to glance over at Malachi, who was watching her struggle with wide eyes.

"Hey – you wanna help me pull this thing in?" She called to him. "I think it might be a big one!"

The toddler's face lit up with excitement and he dropped his pole onto the rocks, rushing around his dad and over to Beth. "Yeah, yeah! I wanna – I wanna help catch it!"

She squatted down to his level and helped guide his small hands to grasp the pole and the reel handle. Then they finished reeling the fish in the last couple of feet through shallow waters together and firmly grasped the handle of the pole to pull the fish out of the water. It was flailing wildly, splashing water everywhere and struggling even as Beth reached out to firmly wrap a hand around it. Another trout, but it was at least a couple pounds bigger than the one Dwight had caught.

"Okay, hold the pole still so I can pull it off the hook," Beth instructed, letting go of the fishing pole so the toddler could grasp it in his small hands and she could wrap both of her hands around the slimy, scaly, squirming trout.

"Oh my – Dad, _Dad_! We caught a – we caught a _fish_!" Mal cried out happily, barely able to stand still as he watched Beth unhook the fish's mouth with fascination.

Daryl chuckled from where he stood, slowly reeling in his own potential catch. "Good job, Mal! Make sure ya throw it back soon, though, fish can't breathe on land."

"I know!" Mal chirped, carefully setting down Beth's fishing pole as she held the fish out for him to inspect closer.

The fish was still fighting in her hands and its tiny, round eyes were full of fear and panic. Its mouth was opening and closing repeatedly, silently gasping for air. Dwight and Sherry appeared behind Mal, excited smiles on their faces as they got a closer look at the trout.

"Damn, already outfishin' us, huh?" Dwight laughed.

"She _is_ a southern girl – like me," Sherry commented, nudging her husband playfully. "'Member the first time we went fishing together? I caught that catfish bigger than yer _head_."

"Oh, I remember," Dwight said, shaking his head and laughing again. "You southern girls are somethin' else, that's fer sure."

"Ain't that the truth," Daryl commented from where he stood, disappointedly pulling in a stripped hook from the water and stepping away to grab a fresh worm. When Beth glanced at him, he flashed her a flirtatious smirk and she smiled bashfully. Then she looked at Sherry and the women laughed together, shaking their heads.

The trout was far too wily for Mal to handle on his own, so Beth let him "help" her toss it back into the water, and they watched it disappear into the rushing water of the river together. The toddler laughed happily and clapped like he'd just watched a very satisfying show, and Beth felt a small burst of warmth in her chest.

"You wanna help me put a new worm on my hook?" She asked, picking up her abandoned fishing pole from the ground and finding the end of the line.

Mal nodded eagerly. "Yeah! I – can I pick the worm?"

"Duh, that's why I wanted yer help. You'll pick the tastiest lookin' worm!" Beth laughed, poking the toddler playfully in his belly as he let out a loud laugh.

He quickly ran off to fetch the Styrofoam container full of dirt and nightcrawlers, and when Beth stood up and glanced over at Daryl, she saw him watching her from where he stood with the fishing pole in his hand, a somewhat wistful expression in his eyes. There was a faint smirk on his lips and he gave her a subtle nod. She returned it with a knowing smile.

Mal was beyond elated to help "Rosie" bait her hook and cast out into the water, and he went on to try even harder with his own fishing pole. He seemed to have become so preoccupied by the fish and turtles that lived in the river that he had forgotten about hunting for bugs or frogs, and surprisingly, he only required one bathroom trip while they were fishing. Beth wasn't sure exactly how much time passed while they were lost in their river fishing paradise, talking and laughing and getting teased by light nibbles on their lines, but it felt like about two hours by the way the sky lightened and the sun approached the horizon. The clouds obscured most of the morning sunlight, though, and if the impending rain really did have an effect on the fish's appetites, then it had paid off for them all.

By the time they noticed the tiny droplets of water falling from the sky, Mal had (expectedly) not caught any actual fish with his fishing pole, although he _had_ scooped up a palm full of tadpoles at one point, which he seemed to consider a success; Dwight had caught three decent-sized trout and a couple of fish that would be good for nothing more than bait; Sherry had caught one particularly large and shiny trout that caused Beth to comment on how beautiful it was, as well as a half-dozen hand-sized, brown trout; Daryl had only caught two big trout, and at one point, a turtle showed up and stole his bait while he watched helplessly and the others laughed. Beth, however, only made the one good catch, but she didn't really mind.

She found more entertainment in hearing Dwight and Daryl joke about who was really the _better_ fisherman, as well as hearing Daryl scoff and tell Dwight that what he lacked in fishing, he more than made up for in _actual_ hunting. Sherry seemed to agree with the sentiment, which only made Beth more curious to see that crossbow he'd brought along put to use. She was also curious about him being a hunter – how come he didn't have any pictures of himself with animal carcasses, or hunting trophies around the apartment? Or were those all in storage, too?

Everyone seemed to agree that they were ready to head back to camp for a mid-morning snack, and maybe a nap, as the rain began to fall more steadily. Mal was already complaining that he was hungry, to which Daryl assured him they would have something to eat soon. Beth had to admit that all the hiking through the woods and fighting with fish had made her pretty hungry, too, and maybe a little tired. Before they packed up their fishing gear, Daryl pulled three folded-up ponchos from his bag and handed one to her. She thanked him and slipped it on, once again grateful for his attention to detail and preparedness. A poncho was not something she had thought to bring, let alone buy – which was kind of stupid, she had to admit. New York definitely wasn't the desert, after all.

Mal's poncho did, in fact, have Moana on it. The toddler sported the teal-colored poncho proudly, Moana's cartoon face largely printed on the back, with the recognizable swirl design on the hood. He repeatedly sang part of the movie's theme song for several minutes after putting the poncho on, and Dwight, Sherry, and Daryl sang along with him while they finished packing up their fishing gear and preparing for the trek back to the campsite. Beth grinned and joined them in singing for the last couple of renditions, and as they turned and began walking toward the edge of the trees, Daryl flashed her another flirtatious smirk and she felt herself beginning to blush… _again_. She wasn't sure what it was about the way he looked at her, but it never failed to bring the butterflies in her stomach to life.

The sun had risen high enough above the horizon that the woods weren't completely dark, and even though the black rainclouds obscured most of the sunlight, they no longer needed the flashlights to navigate their way through the brush and dense trees. But a dense layer of fog had formed over the ground ,and keeping the flashlights dim helped them to navigate through the fallen logs and tangled brush at their feet. Daryl kept his flashlight focused on the path in front of Mal's small feet, keeping a close eye on every plant his tiny hands came in contact with. Beth helped by holding the toddler's hand and guiding him through the dead leaves and thick undergrowth, but he still insisted on stopping every now and then to turn over fallen logs or pick up particularly shiny rocks. The rain continued to fall down around them, splattering loudly across the tops of the trees. Their boots squished through the wet mud, damp earth sticking to their heels.

They were about halfway through their trek back to camp when Sherry dug some granola bars out of her bag and passed them out. Mal's whining had grown more incessant, and not even bugs could distract him anymore. Daryl gratefully took the individually wrapped bar from Sherry and handed it over to Mal, who eagerly set to work ripping it open. Beth took the bar offered to her and gazed down at it as they walked, finding that it was a granola bar with fruit, nuts, and chocolate. Daryl was already ripping his open and taking a big bite.

She turned the bar over in her hands and checked the back, skimming the ingredients list. She immediately spotted "citrus" within the tiny, black font, and she looked over at Mal, who was still struggling with tearing open the small rip he'd made in the packaging of his granola bar. It looked like the exact same flavor that she was holding in her hand.

"Mal – stop," she said, and without another thought, she reached out and snatched the snack out of the toddler's hand. He let out a loud whine and looked up at her with bewilderment, but she was already checking the label to make sure it was the same ingredients as her own. And it was.

"Mal can't eat this – there's _citrus_ in it," Beth said, holding the granola bar out for Daryl to take.

Daryl gave her a quizzical look as Sherry and Dwight quickly looked over. He reached out and took the bar from her hand, swallowing the bite he'd been chewing and glancing down to check that she was right. He immediately realized she was and his eyes briefly widened.

"Shit – good catch," he muttered, a clouded expression crossing his features as he handed the granola bar back over to Sherry.

"Oh my god, are you serious?" Sherry asked, grabbing the snack from Daryl's hand and looking down at the label. "I didn't even think about checking for that – Daryl, I'm _so_ sorry."

"Don't worry 'bout it, they slip that shit inta all kindsa places ya wouldn't expect," Daryl assured her, but he was gazing at Beth with a look she couldn't quite identify. Something like gratitude mixed with a bit of surprise.

Mal was whining at her leg, and Daryl quickly shushed him. "I'm sorry, bud, yer allergic. We got some good snacks back at camp, we'll be there soon."

Beth reached down and ruffled the toddler's blond hair. "I'm sorry, Mal," she apologized, then took his small hand in hers again and walked with him, stuffing her unwrapped granola bar into the pocket of her jeans with the other hand – despite her desire to scarf it down in three bites. He frowned and pouted, dragging his feet in the dirt. She spoke apologetically to him, "C'mon, we're almost there. I got some Reese's Cups I'll share with ya."

Mal's eyes lit up and he looked back up at her with new interest. "Really?"

She chuckled. "Yeah. They might be a little melted, though."

Mal shrugged, his smile finally returning. "I like melted stuff."

Beth laughed. "Me, too." Then she helped him jump over a large, dead log, their boots crunching dead leaves while drops of rain slid down their ponchos and water splashed around their feet.

When they reached camp, everything still looked as they'd left it, except that it wasn't completely dark anymore. They'd left a couple of small lights on, which provided plenty of light since the sun was up. It was still sprinkling, but the clouds were quickly passing by above them, revealing more gray skies and sunlight, promising an approaching end to the rain. The thunder and lightning had all but disappeared, and the crickets had died down to near silence. The woods were alive with the sounds of chirping birds instead.

Dwight and Sherry had come prepared, pulling out a make-shift awning that folded out and set up to cover a large enough area for them to all sit beneath in a small circle, protected from the cold drizzle of rain. It also allowed them to build a small fire, which they huddled close around for warmth once everyone had changed out of their muddy, rain-dampened ponchos and clothes. Daryl spent extra time with a towel on Mal's hair, and then performing another tick check and repellent spray-down. The toddler stopped complaining once he was sitting close to the fire, dressed in dry clothes with a warm blanket wrapped around his shoulders, a citrus-free granola bar in one hand and a Reese's Cup in the other.

Daryl and Dwight ate bologna sandwiches while Sherry, Beth, and Mal opted for granola bars and a little candy. They all sat around the small fire together, Mal squeezed right between Daryl and Beth on one log, and Sherry and Dwight sitting close together on the other log. They were already reminiscing excitedly about their fishing adventure, and Dwight and Sherry pointed out how much "Rosie" had surprised them with her big catch, to which she shrugged and turned bashfully away from Daryl's smirking gaze.

Mal joined in for a while, sipping from a juice box and chattering happily about how he'd helped "Rosie" reel that big fish in, and they all congratulated him on a job well done. When he looked up at Beth and thanked her for letting him help her, and _especially_ for letting him touch the "cool-feeling" trout, she felt that warmth blossoming in her chest again. She grinned back at the toddler, suppressing her urge to wrap her arms around him and never let go. She wasn't sure when, exactly, she'd gotten so attached to this little boy. But she was _definitely_ attached. If she was still falling for Daryl, then she had already fallen _very_ hard for his son.

The aching in her gut made its presence known again, so she grabbed another Reese's Cup from her bag and tried to ignore it.

After a solid hour of sitting around the fire, snacking and getting warm, Mal finished his juice and gradually got quieter until Beth glanced over at him to see that he'd dozed off while leaning against her arm. She got Daryl's attention and he looked over, half-smiling and gazing at the scene for a moment. Then he carefully stood from the log and picked the toddler up, blanket and all. Mal's eyes fluttered open briefly, but he quickly went back to sleep when he realized he was in Daryl's arms, being carried to the tent.

A few minutes later, Daryl reemerged from the tent and reclaimed his spot on the log. But he scooted closer to Beth now that Mal wasn't between them, and wrapped an arm around her to pull her even closer. She smiled and leaned into him to listen to the rain lightly falling on the awning above them while he continued chatting quietly with Dwight and Sherry, staying mindful of the sleeping child nearby.

They had all finished their snacks and were wearing tired expressions on their faces, but Beth could see how much Daryl and Dwight were truly enjoying themselves. Now that she'd seen Daryl out here, she could tell that he was really in his element. He hadn't ever looked happier than when he was sitting with his close friends in C Block, working in the garage at Ride Rehab, or out here, camping and getting reacquainted with nature. That look he got in his eyes when he talked about motorcycles or about Malachi – that look that Beth loved seeing more than anything, like she was witnessing him burst and bloom right in front of her eyes – it was almost always present while they were out here. She could almost _feel_ his excitement, his passion. His desire for simplicity. For familiarity. For security.

She tried not to, but she wondered if that feeling could ever correlate to a need for travel. A need to escape. Maybe to run far away… With her.

Beth realized she'd been staring blankly into the fire, lost in her own thoughts, when a wet beer can was held in front of her face to get her attention. She looked up to see Dwight standing and holding out two beers for her and Daryl, and she accepted without much thought. "Thanks," she smiled.

Daryl shrugged and accepted his as well, and then Dwight returned to the cooler to grab one for himself before taking his seat beside Sherry.

"Ain't been lit before noon since I was runnin' 'round with Merle," Daryl chuckled humorlessly, popping open the tab on the beer can and taking a long gulp.

Beth glanced over at him, intrigued, and opened the can in her hands, taking a tentative sip. It tasted better than she'd expected – or maybe she was already developing that "acquired taste." Something about a cold beer around a warm fire was difficult to resist. She ignored the twinge of guilt that surfaced when she briefly thought about what her daddy would say if he saw her drinking. And so often. _And_ underage.

 _But I've done a lotta things I don't think you ever wanted me to do,_ she thought bitterly.

"I think the last time I got drunk before noon was when we lived in Georgia," Sherry said, sharing a look with Dwight as she continued. "'Member that friend Tina had? The girl that lived in that big-ass house with the swimming pool and the hot tub?"

Dwight grinned and chuckled. "Ohh yeah, _that_ hot tub – I 'member that. Every damn house on that block had a full-sized swimming pool."

Daryl shook his head and sipped his beer, listening with a half-smile. Beth watched Sherry blush lightly and laugh before she went on, "Yeah, me an' Tina got drunk at that girl's house one day in high school. 'Cause her parents were at work an' it was Skip Day. We broke into their liquor cabinet – thanks to Tina's lock-picking skills."

"Damn, couple a troublemakers, weren't ya?" Daryl remarked, smirking.

Dwight laughed and Sherry scoffed. "Yeah, _right_. It was my _first_ Skip Day, and Tina taught _herself_ how t'pick locks. I had nothin' to do with that." She laughed, a reminiscent expression on her face. "We were drunk by ten in the morning. I popped the only floaty they had, but I _really_ wanted a floaty, so I thought it'd be a good idea t'climb over the fence and steal the _neighbor's_ floaty from _their_ pool."

Dwight and Daryl laughed, but Beth asked with wide eyes, "Did you get caught?"

Sherry chuckled and shook her head. "No, but my dumbass got a thigh _full_ of splinters from the fence. _And_ I forgot t'throw the floaty back over when we were done, so Tina's friend got in trouble when the neighbors saw it."

Dwight laughed again. "Didn't you say you were never allowed over there after that? I remember somethin' about how we weren't allowed t'use their hot tub anymore. But _I_ thought it was 'cause they found out about what we were _really_ doin' in there."

Sherry nodded, grinning. "Yep. Me an' Tina were the real reason. We didn't even bother t'fill the liquor bottles with water, so the parents knew immediately. We were so stupid." She laughed.

Dwight shook his head, chuckling, and took a sip of his beer. Then he nodded in Daryl's direction and said, "Last time I was drunk before noon – I think me an' you were fishin' out in the boonies. Trespassin' on somebody's land an' catchin' all the good fish outta their ponds. Shit, 'member the time that guy caught us? Came out with a shotgun pointed at our heads, like we were stealin' _cattle_ or somethin'."

Daryl nodded along with Dwight's story, silently reminiscing along with him. Then he took a long sip of his beer and shrugged. "Wasn't the first time I had a gun pointed t'my head. Wasn't the last time, either."

He'd said it nonchalantly, like it was just another detail of the story, but Beth furrowed her eyebrows and looked over at him, studying his expression. He even _appeared_ nonchalant about it. How many guns had been held to Daryl Dixon's head over the years? What was she missing here?

"Yeah, but that wouldn't be the case if ya'd just left with us when I asked ya to," Dwight said, smiling like it was a joke. Daryl smirked back and took another sip of beer.

Beth could sense that this was a topic the two men had grown used to joking about, but her presence was changing that for Daryl. Did he really think there was _anything_ she could learn about his past that would change the way she saw him? _Of course_ he did. It was Daryl. He'd probably never admit it, but she knew.

Daryl shrugged again and muttered, "Well, things were good when Merle was clean. I thought he might come around again – only family I ever really had, couldn't just give up on 'im. Gave 'im the benefit of the doubt more often than I should've. Then I started drinkin' tequila at eight in the morning. _Every_ morning. Funniest part of it all is that I probably couldn't even tell ya how many _guns_ I've had pointed at me – an' then it was some pussy with a _knife_ that put me in the hospital." He let out a laugh and this time, it was genuine. Dwight laughed along with him and the two men seemed to silently agree that the past was better left in the past, simultaneously taking swigs of their beers.

Beth couldn't explain it, but something about the tone of voice Daryl had when he talked about it, and the burst of laughter after he'd finished reminiscing, told her that he'd figured out how to move on. How to escape the chains of his early life. Something she wanted – no, _needed_ – so desperately to learn. Or maybe it was just the support of his best friend that had gotten him to stop looking back, someone who was always there to remind him that he was better off now than he'd ever been before. More likely, it was a combination of both.

"Shit, man," Dwight spoke up after a few moments of comfortable silence, tossing his empty beer can into the nearby trash bucket. "How much longer you think the boy'll be asleep?"

Daryl glanced toward the tent and shrugged. "Prob'ly another hour. All the walkin' an' shit is really wearin' him out. Why?"

Dwight raised his eyebrows. "Maybe we can do a little huntin'. Have some rabbit or somethin' for lunch. Or supper."

"Been a while since I've had anything _that_ fresh," Sherry commented, standing up and walking over to her small stash of cooking supplies to dig out what looked like the components for hot cocoa. "Even if it's rabbit."

Daryl looked over to Beth expectantly. "Whatcha think? Ever had rabbit stew or anythin' like that? Maybe we can hunt somethin' more _exotic_ for y'all…"

Beth giggled and nudged him playfully. " _'Course_ I've had rabbit. I've had just about anything you can hunt. Don't get too crazy, though – I'm not tryin' ta taste _bobcat_ for the first time or somethin'."

Daryl chuckled. Dwight laughed and said, "What about Sasquatch? I've heard about a lotta Bigfoot sighting around these parts – "

"By all means, if you catch it, leave it in one piece. Then we'll have enough money t'go camping _forever_ ," Sherry joked as she moved around the fire, setting up her small cooking station to boil a small pot full of bottled water.

They all shared a laugh, then Daryl shrugged and said, "'Spose we could get a quick hunt in. Might actually be somethin' worth shootin' now that the rain's stopped."

Beth looked around and realized he was right, and that she hadn't noticed the absence of the sound of water droplets hitting the awning above them. Though the air still had the same chill to it, and the smell of rain remained heavy around them. The fog was gradually dissipating from the ground, and the clouds were continuing to drift across the clear, gray sky. Her beer was gone now, settling in her stomach, and she tossed the empty can into the trash, right behind Daryl's empty can.

"We'll stay here an' watch Mal," Sherry volunteered, stepping away from the pot of water to let it boil while she took a seat on the log. "If you guys want." She looked over to Beth expectantly.

Beth quickly nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I'd love t'see what y'all can bring back."

She would've liked to see Daryl hunt with that crossbow he'd brought along, but at the moment, sitting around the campfire and drinking hot cocoa with Sherry sounded _a lot_ nicer than mucking around in the cold, wet, foggy woods. Plus, she wanted to give Daryl a chance to have time with his best friend, doing something they both loved. Maybe she'd get another chance to tag along and see him in action before the trip was over. They still had another twenty-four hours or so before they had to return to the city, anyway. And she was pretty sure he didn't haul that crossbow all the way out to the mountains just to use it once.

Daryl leaned into Beth and mumbled low enough that only she could hear, "Sure yer okay stayin' here?"

She turned her head to look back at him and nodded, smiling reassuringly. "Yeah, 'course. Rabbit sounds a lot better than bologna sandwiches or beans."

He let out a low chuckle and leaned in to plant a quick kiss on her lips. Then he rumbled, "That's what I was thinkin'. We'll be back soon. I'll try ta get back 'fore Mal wakes up."

Beth shrugged. "'S not a big deal. I think I can handle 'im till you get back." Then she smiled sheepishly and tilted her head to the side, adding, "I think he's gettin' pretty _fond_ of me, actually."

Daryl's mouth turned up into a brief smile and he grunted in amusement, leaning in to steal another quick kiss. Before he leaned away again, he quietly told her, "That makes two of us."

She was blushing again as he stepped away and joined Dwight to fetch the weapons they'd brought along. Even though she was trying really hard not to. The fluttering in her stomach was incessant, no matter how much she tried to push it away.

Although she had to admit… the fluttering was better than the aching. And hearing Daryl's past brought up again had provoked the dormant pang of guilt in her gut. Realizing that he'd successfully shed his old skin, as well as realizing that she had a very long way to go before she could shed her own. How was she supposed to tell him about her past when he'd worked so hard to escape his own? Especially when her past was full of so many things that were still actively affecting her present. And future.

After more quick kisses and promises to return soon from both men, Sherry and Beth were left alone by the fire while they watched Dwight and Daryl trek into the thick woods, crossbow and rifle in hand. Moments after they'd disappeared from sight, Sherry was handing Beth a steaming mug of cocoa with plenty of marshmallows on top. The sun was barely beginning to peek out from behind the clouds and warm the wet earth. Beth thanked the other woman with a small smile and took a tentative sip from her mug. The chocolate was rich, and the warmth spread through her whole body and relaxed her. It tasted even better than the beer had.

"Having fun so far?" Sherry asked casually, cupping her mug of hot cocoa between both hands and gazing over at Beth with a friendly smile.

Beth nodded and returned the smile. "I'm so glad I got t'come out here. It's beautiful. And the quiet is nice, too."

Sherry chuckled and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you get used to the city noise after a while, but then you come out here and remember what was nice about livin' in the country."

" _Mmhmm_ ," Beth agreed. "I almost forgot how many more stars there actually are."

Sherry laughed and took a careful sip of her hot cocoa, then she gestured to the empty spot beside her. "Wanna come sit over here? Might be warmer."

Beth glanced around her and realized she was actually sitting kind of far away now that it was just the two of them. She shrugged and got up, moving over to the other log and sitting down beside Sherry. Turned out, she was right – it _was_ warmer. There was a light breeze that was causing the fire to lean in their direction, sending more consistent bursts of warm air over them. And it didn't feel awkward sitting with Sherry, or uncomfortable. She and Beth had talked and shared plenty of laughs so far, and Beth had to admit that this other woman was beginning to feel like a new friend.

Though she still wasn't quite sure how much she could trust Sherry. She'd been trying to gauge it, trying to study the other woman and figure out what she might _really_ think of "Rosie." Sherry didn't seem like a threat so far. She didn't appear to recognize Beth in any way, or question anything that she'd said. She wasn't suspicious, like Carol. Or nosey. But none of that really mattered, at the end of the day. Beth could only imagine that neither Dwight or Sherry would want Daryl to have _anything_ to do with a wanted murderer… no matter how much they might've grown to like her.

"I dunno about you, but I really didn't feel like walkin' through all that mud an' shit again jus' to follow them around while they hunt," Sherry said, sipping her cocoa and gazing thoughtfully into the fire before turning to look at Beth and smile.

Beth nodded. "I didn't feel like it either. An' I saw you were making cocoa so that kinda swayed me, too."

They laughed quietly together, then Sherry said, "I think they need their guy time anyway. I know Dwight was so excited about comin' up here, it was all he talked about last week. And he worked kinda late the last couple of days – if he wants t'go kill somethin' with Daryl for a couple hours, he definitely earned it."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinkin', too," Beth agreed, sipping her cocoa. Then she paused and glanced away before smiling sheepishly and adding, "Although, I _am_ pretty curious t'see Daryl use that crossbow."

Sherry chuckled and raised her eyebrows, like she thought Beth was kidding at first. "Oh, really? I forgot, you didn't even know he had that thing before yesterday, huh?"

Beth shook her head, smiling. "No! He never mentioned it."

Sherry nodded and rolled her eyes playfully. "Yeah, he probably acts like it's no big deal. But he's actually pretty damn good with the thing. And it's weird, 'cause it's not like, shootin' a gun, ya know? Dwight's gotten t'be a good shot with his rifle over the years, but using that crossbow thing takes some real skill."

Beth's eyes widened briefly with intrigue, then she furrowed her brow. "Why a crossbow? I would've assumed he'd owned a rifle, if anything… Maybe a machete, I guess. He seems like a melee kinda person."

Sherry laughed lightly as though Beth were making a joke, taking a sip of her cocoa before shrugging and replying, "I dunno. He had one when we met him in Georgia, an' that was like, over fifteen years ago. All he ever said was that guns are 'too loud.' 'Spose that probably goes along with the whole tracking thing."

Beth gave Sherry another quizzical look. "Tracking?"

Sherry quickly nodded and explained, "He's a really good tracker – like, animal tracks."

"Oh-h," Beth said, finally understanding what the other woman was talking about. "Wow, really? I don't think I've met many people who know how t'track. Or really care to."

"Same here. But he's just always been into it. And he's good at it," Sherry said. "He tracked a twenty-point buck one year back in Georgia. Dwight got the kill shot – he _still_ tells the story. But they never would've found it, let alone been able t'sneak up on it, if it weren't for Daryl."

"Wow," Beth commented, smirking as she imagined a younger Daryl, tracking a huge deer out in the Georgia backwoods. "He never really talks about that stuff. Well – not ta me. But I guess I don't really ask, either."

Finding out that Daryl was a tracker made sense. His attention to detail, his natural affinity for silence, his ability to communicate without words better than most. He was observant, quiet, stealthy. _Of_ _course_ he was a tracker. Beth had only ever known one man who could track worth a damn, and that was her Uncle Lloyd – who also happened to be Arnold's daddy. He was long dead, of course. But Beth could still remember the hunting tales that Hershel would recount over and over from his and Lloyd's younger days, and how Lloyd would always track the buck and Hershel would take it down. Hearing about Daryl and Dwight's hunting method made her think of Lloyd again for the first time in months. It also made her think of Arnold, who was sitting in prison just like the rest of her family.

Sherry shrugged, taking a long and leisurely sip of her hot cocoa. Then she said, "It's not as big a part of his life anymore, I s'pose. But there's probably a lotta stuff he doesn't really talk about."

Beth took a long sip of her cocoa and gazed into the fire thoughtfully. "Yeah. True."

"You've been pretty quiet so far, though. You sure you're havin' fun?" Sherry asked, her gaze growing concerned as she looked at Beth.

Beth quickly smiled and nodded, harshly reminded of her inability to keep everything locked away. She could certainly take some cues from Daryl in that department. She'd tried to join in on conversations and jokes, but Daryl, Dwight, and Sherry loved to reminisce about the "trouble" they caused back in Georgia. And Beth was afraid that if she let herself get too comfortable and chatty, she'd let something unintentionally slip, and the entire Rosie Wilson ruse would come crumbling down.

But she plastered on her most innocent face and replied, "Yeah, I really am. I jus' – well, you guys have been friends forever so you have lots of stuff t'talk about together. I get enough of a kick outta hearing all your crazy stories."

Sherry smiled, leaning back a bit as she pulled her feet up off the ground and crossed her legs together on the log, facing Beth. She was still cupping the hot mug of cocoa, all of her marshmallows melted away. "Oh, c'mon – jus' 'cause we're old now and we did a bunch of dumb shit together when we were kids." The women laughed together, then Sherry continued, "I'm sure you have stories of your own. Or even just opinions. Don't let those two dorks make you feel invisible."

Beth laughed again and shook her head. "No, it's not that. I like bein' around you guys. I like seein' how happy Daryl is when we're all together."

Sherry's smile softened and she gazed at Beth curiously, making Beth wonder if what she'd said had been a little too cheesy to voice aloud. But then the older woman said, "So do I. But he's a lot happier since you've been around, so I hope you realize that it's not jus' because we're all camping together or whatever."

Beth shrugged and half-smiled bashfully. "Yeah, I s'pose so." She took a long sip of her cocoa, which had grown nearly lukewarm. Then she added, "I really don't have much t'talk about, though. I didn't do a whole lot back home. An' the stories I _do_ have aren't… good."

Sherry furrowed her brow and said, "Well, that doesn't mean you shouldn't _share_ them. It's the best way t'move past it. That's how Dwight and Daryl can joke about that shitshow back in Georgia now – 'cause they didn't avoid talking about the bad memories. It wasn't easy at first, but it _makes_ it easier. I think."

Beth nodded, gazing down at her cocoa thoughtfully. Sherry's words were reassuring, but that didn't make them any more helpful. Beth still had to leave out that vital little part about how she couldn't discuss the "bad stuff" because it would literally incriminate her. She lifted her eyes to meet Sherry's again and mumbled, "I know yer right. It just… well, I don't think Daryl's really ta that point with me yet, either. He's told me a little about his brother, an' his parents. But he doesn't tell me stuff like – how many _guns_ he's had pointed to his head. So… I don't push the subject."

Sherry nodded in understanding, then shrugged and gave Beth a reassuring half-smile. "Well, that stuff comes with time. Eventually, he'll tell you everything. Just like you will, too, I'm sure."

 _Yeah… with time,_ Beth thought, quickly draining the last few drops of her cocoa and setting the empty mug aside.

"He told me about… Mal's mom," she said, watching Sherry's eyes light up with intrigue as she spoke. "Like, _a lot_. Which was good – he needed it. An' I think I needed t'hear it, too. But – it made me feel… I dunno. _Weird_. Like maybe I was just fillin' a spot temporarily. Or maybe he's not really over her."

Sherry raised her eyebrows and her smile faded. She chewed on her lip thoughtfully for a moment, then spoke quietly, "Yeah, that's a whole other can of worms, honestly. Although I can _assure_ you that you're not 'filling a spot.' Lucy is… _long_ gone. He's _over_ her, it's just a… really big wound that'll take a long time ta heal, ya know? But you – talked about it, right? You told him how you _really_ felt after he told you all that?"

Beth quickly nodded. "Yeah, of course. We had a little… argument, I guess. But I jus' feel bad because he told me so _much_. An' I've told him _some_ stuff about my ex, and why I came to the city, but…"

 _Wait,_ Beth stopped herself, mouth still open as the words froze on her tongue. _Am I doing it right now? Am I spilling too much? No, I can say some things. Sherry thinks I'm an abuse victim. She'll just pity me. She's not like Carol. She's not suspicious of me._

"But," Sherry arched an eyebrow and stared at Beth expectantly. "You can't tell him _everything_ – because you're afraid he'll see you differently? Or he won't want t'be with you anymore?"

Beth blinked and her mouth snapped shut, staring back at Sherry and swallowing hard. Maybe this woman _did_ kind of know what she was talking about. Beth nodded weakly and her voice sounded shaky when it came out. "Y-yeah. Exactly…"

Sherry's expression became sympathetic and she appeared to be studying Beth. Of course, just as Beth had assumed she would, Sherry was feeling pity for her. Probably imagining all the ways that this imaginary ex-boyfriend had scarred her for life – when, in reality, it was _Beth_ who had done the scarring. The killing.

Then the older woman smiled and shook her head, throwing back the last swig of cocoa left in her mug before speaking. "Don't worry about that. You _do_ realize that's exactly the same thing Daryl is worried about…? Like, _constantly_."

Beth furrowed her brow quizzically. "What? What're you talkin' about?"

Sherry snickered and shook her head again, then confidently said, "I've known Daryl for a long time and I'm gonna tell you right now that he doesn't talk t'you about his past because he's afraid you'll think he's some kinda white trash loser, or criminal or somethin', and that you won't wanna be with him."

Beth scoffed. "That's ridiculous. I don't _care_ what he's done, and there's _nothing_ that could make me think of him that way. He's not a loser – _definitely_ not a criminal."

Sherry smiled. " _Duh_. You know that, and I know that. But Daryl has _always_ thought poorly of himself. He's not as bad as he used ta be, since he's been a dad, but it's still there… He'll _always_ be insecure – at least a little bit."

Beth was quiet for a long moment as she mulled over Sherry's words. Then she muttered, "It's… mine is different, though. It really _will_ affect how he thinks of me. An' I'm afraid if – if I _don't_ tell him about it, it'll end up haunting me. Or he'll find out an' hate me anyway…"

Sherry pressed her lips tightly together and hesitated, then she said, "Whatever it is, I honestly _don't_ think it will change things between you two. Trust me… It'll all come out. You guys will talk about everything. When the time is right."

Beth swallowed past a forming knot in her throat and chewed on the inside of her cheek. _I've_ _ **been**_ _waiting for the time to be right… when will that ever be? How am I supposed to know? What if I already missed it? You have no idea that I'm talkin' about an actual_ _ **felony**_ _. I don't think you'd be saying 'when the time is right' if you knew I was holdin' back from telling Daryl about my arrest warrant._

Sherry continued, "And, besides – you guys have a lot more in common than you think. Well, from what I know so far, anyway. Your ex sounds kinda like Daryl's brother."

Beth nodded and forced away an image of Jimmy that wanted to flash into her mind. "Yeah, he was… a mess. I think um, they might've been addicted to the same drug. From the sounds of it…"

Sherry frowned and looked away momentarily. "Meth?"

Beth nodded.

"Yeah. I can only _imagine_ what kinda shit you had t'deal with," Sherry muttered. It sounded like it came from a place of experience, or at least secondhand experience.

Beth smiled weakly, but she knew it appeared forced. Whatever. It kept the tears from forming. "That's another reason I don't wanna talk about it. I don't wanna drag 'im down, remind him of all that bullshit he got away from. He doesn't need t'hear any more stories about a twacked-out, abusive guy."

Sherry smirked and rolled her eyes. "Oh, _please_. You _really_ think there's anything you could tell 'im that he hasn't heard, or experienced, before? I'm not even exaggerating when I say that there is _nothing_ you could tell him, at this point, that would make him want t'leave you."

Beth rolled her eyes mockingly, then smiled. She shook her head and looked away, toward the fire, knowing that what Sherry was telling her right now didn't actually hold any weight. Nonetheless, she muttered quietly, "It's only been a _month_. We still barely know each other. I'm pretty sure there's _lots_ a things that could be potential dealbreakers…"

Sherry laughed and Beth continued gazing into the fire. "By now, sweetie? There's _nothin'_ you could tell him that could scare 'im off. He's already fallen head over heels for you. Can't you see it?"

Beth's stomach fluttered and she turned to look at the other woman again, slightly confused. She felt her cheeks warming, but not from the heat of the fire. Then she pursed her lips tightly together and smiled bashfully, trying to brush off Sherry's statement.

 _Yeah, I can see it, because I've fallen too,_ she thought. _But he's falling for the innocent and abused Rosie Wilson… Not the murdering, lying Beth Greene. And scaring him off will be the_ _ **least**_ _of my problems when he finds out the truth._

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the late update! I won't post a chapter until I feel it is JUST right, and that's what happened here. The flashback ended up becoming way more meaningful than I'd originally intended, so I spent some extra time on the chapter as a whole. And now the flashback parallels most of the themes in this chapter, as well as the next couple of chapters. Hope you like it! Next Sunday will be Detective Grimes III.  
Also: I made a comprehensive Pinterest board for this fic, if anyone is interested, and I'll be continuously adding to it. You can find me on Pinterest as SquishyCool. And if you're ever looking for updates on this fic (like why the newest chapter isn't showing up on Sunday lol), you can find me on tumblr as im-immortal, where I post lots of updates about this fic and my progress on it.


	58. Detective Grimes III

While Beth is taking a morning fishing trip in the Catskill Mountains, back in Atlanta, Rick Grimes is finally waking up...

* * *

 _ **Detective Grimes III**_

The sensation of waking from a month-long coma was unlike anything Rick Grimes had ever experienced in his life. Well, it may have been similar to the sensation of being bashed over the head and put into a very deep sleep, but he couldn't remember. He couldn't even remember what had happened, what had put him to sleep, who had approached him. One moment, he was looking down at Shane's body, lying motionless on the floor beside him. And then everything went black. It felt like the very next moment, he was opening his eyes again, crying out with the yell that had been caught in his throat before he'd lost consciousness.

" _Shane!_ "

Everything was bright and white and blurry, and the smell of bleach and piss filled his nostrils. The sudden light stung his eyes, and his throat felt like it would crack apart if he tried to utter another word. There was movement around him, and suddenly there were a dozen different voices surrounding him, filling his ears, making his head throb. He immediately fell back into the bed again and groaned in pain, head hitting the pillow and eyes squeezing shut.

"Oh my god, he's – check his vitals, did you – "

"Did he _say_ something? Where's the doctor?!"

"Get him over here! _Dr. Edwards!_ Page him again!"

"Tell Esther to call his wife, we have to – "

"Is that reporter lady still outside? We need more nurses in here in case – "

"Sir, Mr. Grimes, sir – can you open your eyes for me again? Are you awake?"

"Oh my god, please don't tell me that was another reaction, I saw him _open_ his _eyes_ this time!"

"Where the _fuck_ is Dr. Edwards?! Can you page him again?!"

"He's coming! What did I tell y'all about workin' Saturday mornings? I _knew_ somethin' big would happen today!"

"Lauren, shut the hell up an' page him again. You ain't even s'posed ta be in here."

It was all too much. Rick was having a sensory overload. He felt disoriented, dizzy, his head throbbed painfully and all his limbs felt ten times heavier than normal.

 _Where am I?_ He thought, struggling to open his eyes and look around at the nurses who were poking and prodding him, urging him to speak, clucking away and flittering about like a group of hens. But his throat was so sore and so dry, he wasn't sure he could form any actual words. _Where's Lori? Where's Shane? Was that a dream? Is_ _ **this**_ _some kind of dream?_

He finally managed to lift his heavy eyelids, even though his eyes stung and watered against the light. He looked around and met the eyes of each of the six nurses surrounding him as they took his blood pressure, checked his pulse, stuck needles into the wires and tubes in his arms and scribbled things down on their little charts. A couple of the nurses kept looking toward the door, repeatedly calling for a doctor that Rick had never heard of.

He was lying in a hospital bed, in a sterile, white room that was just big enough for his bed, the machines that surrounded it, a door to a small bathroom, and a couple chairs and a sink. The top half of his bed was slightly raised, and he looked around in confusion when he realized it was slowly rising him into a sitting position. Then he spotted one of the nurses pressing the button that controlled the bed, and he tried to relax into his new position. He felt… _creaky_. Like his insides were coated in a layer of dust. As his vision cleared, he noticed the bright orange Halloween decorations around the room – little paper pumpkins, bats, and ghosts pinned to the white walls. For a brief second, he thought about how it was the weirdest thing because Halloween was still a couple months off.

He tried to raise his head from the pillow to look around and search for Shane or Lori, but his skull felt like it weighed fifty pounds, and the nurses immediately scolded him and urged him to lie back and relax. But that was impossible. Every muscle in his body was suddenly itching to move. If he'd had the strength, he would've ripped out all the tubes and wires in his body and jumped out of that bed. But he could barely seem to lift one hand. And as he looked down and began to examine himself, recognize himself, he realized that there were _so many_ tubes, _so many_ wires.

 _Where the fuck is Shane?_ He thought.

He opened his mouth and the nurses urged him to speak. He struggled against a mouth full of cotton and a dry throat, and his voice came out hoarse and barely audible, his lips cracking painfully as he used them for the first time in weeks. "W-wa… water."

A couple of the nurses scrambled over to a nearby sink to grab a small plastic cup and fill it with water while one of the others rushed them along, admonishing the other nurses for not thinking to grab him some " _damn_ water." A red-haired nurse standing near the door was once again asking about "Dr. Edwards."

Everything around him was too much to process. Rick had so many questions, and his mind was spinning, struggling to decipher what had been a dream and what had been reality. It felt like he'd been asleep for only a second, but that was obviously impossible. While he was swallowed up by that darkness, deep inside his head, it had felt like an eternity. And suddenly, it didn't anymore. What had happened? Had he imagined everything? Had he been _shot_? How long had he been in the hospital? A couple hours? A couple days?

And where the _fuck_ was Shane? Was he okay? Where the _fuck_ was Lori, for that matter?

One of the nurses leaned in close to Rick and carefully held the small paper cup to his lips, and though he drank eagerly, she didn't allow him to swallow it too quickly. Nevertheless, it was the most relief he'd felt since being awake. The water washed down his throat and he was so thirsty that he nearly forgot to breathe. The cannulas in his nose didn't allow him to, though. As the nurse leaned closer to him, he spotted the monogram on the chest of her scrubs: _Grady Memorial Hospital_.

He let out a sigh of relief as the nurse pulled the empty cup away and he looked around at the others, licking his lips. Then he rested his eyelids briefly and asked, "Wh-where… where's Shane?"

Rick could still see him, lying on that floor. Completely motionless. Had that been a dream?

When he opened his eyes fully and looked around again, waiting for an answer, he saw the nurses exchanging worried glances. His eyes were growing used to the bright light, and he gazed around at them quizzically. A few of them were whispering to each other so quietly that he couldn't hear what they were saying. He furrowed his brow, about to repeat himself, but then someone else entered the room.

The nurses immediately turned around and looked toward the door, and Rick's eyes followed to see a doctor striding in. He appeared to be chewing a bite of food, a napkin still tucked into the collar of his shirt as a bib, and a mustard stain on the front of his white lab coat. He appeared no older than forty, and was less than six feet tall with pale white skin and light brown hair, cut short and receding in the front. He also had a neatly trimmed beard to match, and wore square-framed glasses over green eyes.

He hadn't even glanced in Rick's direction yet, appearing frustrated as he glared at the nurses and muttered, "Better not be another _goddamned_ hemorrhage, I'm right in the middle of my breakfast – "

"Edwards, _look_ at him," one of the nurses hissed, and the doctor finally looked over to meet Rick's quizzical gaze. His face fell and he immediately pushed his way through the nurses to Rick's bedside, waving his hand and shooing them all away.

Most of them seemed to know they weren't supposed to be there and obediently scurried from the room, while one stayed behind and pointed out the napkin that was still tucked into the front of the doctor's shirt. He muttered, "shit" and yanked it out to stuff into his pocket before shooing the last two nurses away. The room emptied except for the doctor, and Rick gazed up at him with a bewildered expression. The doctor had a silver name badge pinned to the front of his lab coat that read: _Dr. Steven Edwards_ _– Neurology_.

When he spoke, it was very slowly, and he enunciated his words and raised his voice, as if it had been Rick's hearing that was damaged. "Mr. Grimes, d'you – do you _remember_ who you _are_?" Dr. Edwards stared down intently into Rick's eyes as he leaned over the bed.

Rick furrowed his brow, growing more confused. "What – 'course I do. Where's Shane?"

The doctor's face fell and he stood up straight. He hesitated, then responded in a normal tone, "Your partner? Shane Walsh?" Rick could see his tongue moving behind his cheek, digging food from his teeth.

Rick nodded, swallowing past his dry, sore throat.

Dr. Edwards sighed and raised his eyebrows. He stepped away and avoided Rick's gaze, picking up the chart that one of the nurses had left on a nearby table. Rick's heart beat a little faster as he anxiously awaited an answer, but the doctor was looking down at the chart in his hands, flipping through the pages and remaining silent.

"Where is Shane?" Rick repeated, the strength in his voice slowly returning as he grew impatient. Was this some kind of _game_ to this guy? Why wouldn't anyone tell him where his partner was? Or his wife? "And-and Lori. My wife – where is she? My son, Carl…"

Dr. Edwards sighed again and set the chart back down, then turned to face Rick, leaning back against the edge of the table. He gazed intently into Rick's eyes, then said, "Detective Walsh was DOA. Your wife is on her way with your son. We just called her, so she'll get here as soon as she can."

Rick felt his lungs tightening. He struggled to take in a deep, calming breath. Had he heard the doctor correctly? Shane, DOA? It wasn't possible. His voice sounded foreign as it escaped his throat. "What – wait. _No_ , he – DOA?"

Dr. Edwards looked down toward the floor and cleared his throat. "It means dead on arrival, I didn't – "

"I _know_ what DOA means, for Christ's sake, I'm a _cop_ ," Rick said, the anger quickly building in his chest. "But _how_? What happened? Who killed him?"

Dr. Edwards blinked rapidly and made eye contact with Rick for about half a second before quickly glancing away again, visibly nervous. "I really am _not_ – I shouldn't be the one talking to you about this. It was my job t'make sure you woke up and to find out how much you remembered. You should – listen, your _wife_ can answer all your questions. She'll be here soon. Until then, I have t'check you out and make some notes."

The doctor picked up his chart again and approached Rick's bedside, reaching out to check the monitors around him and scribble notes onto the paper. Rick watched him, angry and baffled, brimming with so many questions that he didn't know which one to demand answers for first.

"Just _tell me what happened_ ," he hissed, glaring at Dr. Edwards, who flinched at the tone in Rick's voice but continued his work with tightly pursed lips.

"Where's Lerner? M-my boss, Dawn Lerner – does she know?" Rick asked, struggling to bite back his fury at being left in the dark.

The doctor stopped what he was doing. Froze. Then he met Rick's eyes, brows furrowed. Rick could see him swallowing hard right before he said, "Mr. Grimes, _everyone_ knows. You've been in a coma for thirty-four _days_."

Rick's breath caught in his throat. His blood turned cold in his veins, and it felt as if the entire world had dropped out from beneath his feet.

 _A coma?_ He thought, mouth slowly dropping open as he gaped at Dr. Edwards in disbelief. He struggled to process it, to determine if this was all real or just another dream. _I was asleep for that long? Shane… Shane's dead? They already had his funeral and I missed it… Who killed him? Hershel Greene? Did they get him? Was I supposed to die, too? Why the fuck isn't Lori here, waiting for me to wake up?_

Rick's eyes drifted downward, beginning to stare at his own hands and examine himself, wondering how he hadn't noticed how different he looked. He'd lost an entire month of his life. How could he ever get that time back? How much had happened since he'd been unconscious?

Dr. Edwards cleared his throat, finishing his last check-up and taking a step back, away from the bedside. He still sounded a bit nervous, but he was well-rehearsed in covering it up. "We have a lotta tests to run now that you're awake – I'll give you a chance t'get accommodated first and um, talk to your wife. See your son. You have a long road ahead of you… Not everybody wakes up from blunt force trauma like that."

Rick looked over at the doctor and blinked, lips parted like he was going to ask something else. Before he could find the words, Dr. Edwards was nodding and briskly heading for the door. "Alright, I'll be back later. My breakfast is already cold. Call a nurse if you need anything."

And just like that, he was gone. Rick looked around, mind racing and heart pounding inside his chest. The beeping monitors around him had already become nothing more than background noise, though sounds of voices from the hallway outside were drifting in and reaching his ears. And as the door to his room slowly fell shut behind Dr. Edwards, Rick caught a glimpse of the hallway, and the large reception desk that sat almost directly in front of his room. A black woman in a bright fuchsia dress was standing in front of the desk, gazing back over her shoulder and staring directly at him. Like she knew him.

Before he could figure out if he recognized her, the door clicked shut, and he was alone with his thoughts and the beeping machines.

* * *

" _We're not havin' this goddamn argument again – Carl's heard us fightin'_ _ **more**_ _than enough," Rick said, his voice hushed and frustrated. "We can talk about it tomorrow."_

" _ **When**_ _?" Lori hissed, hazel eyes ablaze. "While you're sleeping from spendin' all night busting a drug ring, or while you're drowning in the interrogations an' paperwork afterwards? This isn't_ _ **worth**_ _it anymore – "_

" _And what_ _ **is**_ _?!" Rick snapped, struggling to keep from raising his voice. He and Lori were inches away from each other now, both of them heated. "Huh? When I ain't got enough money ta make the car payment, or when yer takin' babysittin' jobs ta keep the house from gettin' foreclosed? Just_ _ **wait**_ _, alright? You'll see, after this bust, once we got those damn Greene's in handcuffs – "_

" _Fame an' glory don't get you a_ _ **pay**_ _raise, Rick!" Lori hissed, eyes widening as she looked up at him like he was the dumbest man she'd ever met. "Havin' people think you're a great leader – that don't mean_ _ **shit**_ _ta me an' Carl. And I'm_ _ **not**_ _gonna sit around while you go out an' – "_

" _And_ _ **what**_ _?!" Rick interrupted her, leaning in closer until he could smell her shampoo, rage filling his chest. "Try t'do what's_ _ **right**_ _? Try ta put some goddamn_ _ **justice**_ _into this world?"_

" _No," Lori said flatly. "While you go out an' risk your_ _ **life**_ _. While you go out, every single day, and take the most dangerous route, volunteer for the most dangerous jobs. Like you_ _ **want**_ _to make me a widow! This isn't the goddamn sheriff's department, Rick – this is the big leagues, this is life-threatening_ _ **shit**_ _."_

 _Rick's lip curled and he leaned away from her again, taking half a step back. She was starting to sound like Shane and it pissed him off more. He clenched his right hand into a fist, fingernails digging into his palm. "You_ _ **agreed**_ _ta this. There was a time when you supported my dream of becomin' a detective. You knew what it entailed. You wanted me t'make a difference, too."_

 _Lori rolled her eyes, which sparked another small flame of anger inside his chest. "That was a different time, Rick. Things aren't – they're not so_ _ **simple**_ _anymore. You're not made out for that kinda work and those kinda people, you got no_ _ **idea**_ _what you're goin' up against when – "_

 _It took everything Rick had to keep from raising his voice, to restrain himself from getting in Lori's face and screaming at her. His voice came out low and threatening as he told her, "If yer so fuckin' unhappy, then_ _ **leave**_ _. You don't think I can do it? You ain't gotta stay an' watch."_

 _She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at him. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake hard, ask her who the fuck she was and what she'd done with his wife. This wasn't the woman he married. She hadn't been the woman he married for some time now. And every day that she said some stupid shit like this, talked down to him like he was the biggest idiot she'd ever laid eyes on, the distance between them grew larger. It was constantly growing now, and poor Carl was stuck in the middle. If it weren't for his son, Rick wasn't even so sure that he'd still be here with this woman. She spoke like someone he didn't know – like someone he didn't like. They no longer held the same values._

 _Had they ever? Or had he been blinded by love for the past eleven years?_

 _They didn't speak again until Rick left for the day. He hugged Carl by the front door, squatting down on one knee to be eye level with the ten-year-old, brunette boy._

" _Are you doin' that big job tonight, Dad?" Carl asked._

 _Rick nodded. "Sure am, bud. I'll be home in time ta go t'church with you an' your mom, though."_

 _Carl smiled and wrapped his arms around his father's neck. Rick melted into his son's hug, wrapping his own arms around the small boy's body and holding him close for a moment._

" _Be careful, Dad," Carl whispered next to his ear. "Mom will be really mad if you get hurt. And I need you."_

 _Rick fought back a tear and chuckled softly as they pulled apart. He ruffled his son's hair and gave him another smile. "I know, son. I need you, too. Love you."_

 _Carl smiled. "Love you, too."_

 _Rick stood back up and looked over toward Lori, who was standing near the hallway at the opposite side of the living room. She was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest as she watched her husband and son say goodbye to each other. Rick felt like she was staring at him with absolute contempt, and it only made him eager to leave the house quickly._

" _Alright, well – see you in the mornin'," he lifted his hand in a brief wave toward Lori's direction as he turned and placed his hand on the knob of the front door._

 _Her voice made him freeze, sending ice through his veins and a painful stab of guilt into his stomach. "Sometimes, I wonder if you even care about us_ _ **at all**_ _."_

 _He hesitated, hand still on the doorknob. A retaliation was building in his throat, and he fought back the urge to spin around and look Lori in her eyes, spit back the venom that she loved to throw his way. But he caught Carl watching him from the corner of his eye, and the look of confusion and sadness on his son's face made Rick's heart drop down to his feet. How could she have said such a thing in front of their child?_

 _Instead of responding, Rick pretended not to hear her. Even though she knew he had. He opened the front door and left, resisting the urge to slam it behind him._

 _Arguing with her had made him late enough already._

* * *

Rick spent several minutes stretching out his fingers and hands. Every bone in his body felt like a bike chain that had been left out in the rain for a month, rusted and rickety. And then he spent several more minutes searching his bed for the button to call a nurse. When he found it, he struggled to grasp it and accurately press the button. He grew a bit frightened at how much it exhausted him to do something as simple as lift his arm. And his head was still throbbing. Probably more so now, since his pulse was pounding harder and he was still trying to process everything he'd been told – and everything he _hadn't_ been told.

 _That doctor sure is a piece a work,_ he thought, pressing the button a couple more times until he had managed to make the little light come on. _The hell is that guy doin' in medicine? Why's he so skittish? Definitely ain't got the best bedside manner I ever seen… Shit, did I have surgery? Sure as hell hope he wasn't the one that operated on me…_

He scratched at the scruff on his face, at least a week unshaven and itchy. Then he reached up and gingerly touched the bandages wrapped around his head. The right half of his head was tender to the touch, and that was the part that throbbed the worst beneath his skull. What the hell had those Greene's done to him? Why couldn't he remember anything after seeing Shane lying on the ground? He hadn't even seen him get shot, let alone seen a gun being pulled out. All Rick could remember was the sound of the weapon discharging, and he'd assumed it was Shane's – but it wasn't… Whose was it, then?

And what had happened to his head? Dr. Edwards had said nothing more than "blunt force trauma." That could be a number of things, though it certainly explained his headache… what had the Greene's used when they tried to cave his head in? Or had something else happened? He had so many damn questions and so few answers.

 _Fuck,_ he thought. _This is gonna be a bitch to rehabilitate from. How long are they gonna keep me here? I gotta get back to work – as soon as I find out what happened. I gotta get back into this case. Those Greene's will fry for what they did ta Shane, an' I gotta do everything in my power ta make sure of it… Where the fuck is Lori?_

The door to his room opened and a nurse entered. Rick quickly recognized her from when he'd first woken up, remembering her curly, red hair. She appeared to be older and carried herself with an air of authority. He could tell she was in charge of some of the other nurses. But she seemed nice enough, and she smiled, looking him up and down and glancing at the monitors and screens around his bed.

"Everythin' okay, Mr. Grimes?" She asked, striding over and casually checking his IV bag. She was close enough now that Rick could read her name badge: _Phyllis_.

"My – my wife. Is she coming?" Rick asked, voice still hoarse.

Phyllis looked at him and her gaze softened. He couldn't figure out why she looked so sympathetic toward him. But she smiled reassuringly and nodded. "Yes, honey, she's on her way. Want a li'l more water while ya wait?"

He nodded and watched her walk to the sink for a paper cup of water. She brought it back to him and moved in to help him drink, like the other nurse had done before, but he stopped her and insisted on doing it himself. She allowed him, though she was hesitant, and watched him carefully with her hands out and ready to grab the cup if he dropped it. But he didn't, and once he'd swallowed every last, delicious drop of cold water, he felt pretty damn proud of himself.

Phyllis smiled encouragingly, raising her eyebrows like she was slightly surprised, and took the empty cup from him, tossing it in the trash.

"Has – uh, has anybody else come by?" He asked, watching her walk to the window and pull the curtains open to let in some sunlight. "Ta check on me?"

"Well, you've only been here for a couple weeks, so I can't speak for when you were at Harrison," she replied, and Rick immediately understood that she was talking about Harrison Memorial Hospital. He wondered why they'd moved him to Slabtown, of all places. He'd only ever been to this hospital once or twice – as a visitor. It wasn't even close to where he and Lori lived.

She leaned against the small table next to the window, crossing her arms over her chest thoughtfully, and looked at him as she continued, "But your brother came by a couple days after you got here – he was awfully upset. Left ya some flowers. 'Course, they're long dead by now…" Rick glanced around and realized, for the first time, that there weren't any flowers or cards in sight. Not even a deflated balloon or a shitty, stuffed animal. "Yer wife an' son stopped by a couple times. Well, I dunno about yer time at Harrison, but they've only stopped by twice since ya came to Grady."

 _Twice in two weeks? That's it_? Rick thought, furrowing his brow at this information.

As if she'd read his mind, Phyllis commented, "Yeah, ya know, I dunno where they got that bit in the news – when they said she was by yer side 'every single day.' They weren't even in here, how would they know? Anyway, then I think your sister-in-law came by. She brought some more flowers jus' a couple days after yer brother… An' another lady. I think she said she was your former boss…?"

Rick gave the nurse a quizzical expression as he thought, _Former boss? Does she mean my current boss, Lerner?_

"Lerner?" He asked, and Phyllis shrugged. He paused, then asked, "Dark-haired lady, real short an' angry?"

The nurse smiled and snapped her fingers. "Yeah! That's the one. She's been stoppin' by nearly every day. An' callin' when she can't come in. She was _awfully_ worried you wouldn't wake up."

Rick chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully, gazing back at Phyllis but not really looking at her. He was still a bit upset at the news that Lori had barely bothered to visit him, or bring Carl.

Apparently, the nurse could recognize this, because she uncrossed her arms and stepped away from the table, patting Rick's foot through the blanket as she paused at the end of his bed. "Don't worry, Mr. Grimes – sometimes spouses don't come in 'cause it's just too painful ta see the person they love the most in that condition. An' they don't bring the kids in for the same reason… I'm sure you didn't want yer son seein' you that way. Right?"

Rick shrugged, a pain shooting up his neck when he did so. He winced but quickly brushed it off, then nodded in agreement. "Yeah – yeah, yer prob'ly right… Thank you."

She gave him another reassuring smile, then told him to call her again if he needed anything else. He watched her leave the room, and the door slowly shut behind her. The woman in the fuchsia dress was no longer standing outside, though he wasn't sure why he thought she'd been looking at him. He didn't recognize her anyway.

He relaxed back into the bed and closed his eyes, wishing he'd thought to ask for some pain medication. But he was afraid it would make him drowsy, and the last thing he wanted right now was to fall back asleep and lose any more time. Even though his eyes were closed, the throbbing in his head kept him plenty awake. And all he could worry about right now was Lori and Carl… and Shane. And Lerner. And what became of the Greene's. And where was his cell phone, anyway? Were they keeping it somewhere? Maybe he could ask the nurses…

The door to his room flung open, startling him from his daydreaming state, and he looked over to see Lori rushing inside with Carl close behind her. She was wearing a loosely flowing, floral print dress, her long, black hair pulled up in a high ponytail. Carl was wearing a bright blue T-shirt from Vacation Bible Camp and jeans, his hair a mess as usual. All the heaviness in Rick's chest immediately lifted, and he grinned at the sight of his wife and son. Had Carl gotten bigger already, or was Rick imagining things? Carl slipped in front of his mom and rushed towards the bed, an excited grin on his face.

" _Dad_!" The small boy cried out happily, immediately throwing his arms around Rick's neck when he reached the bedside. "I thought – I was so _scared_! I thought you wouldn't ever wake up!"

Rick wrapped his arms around his son, holding him tightly, tears pooling in his eyes. He breathed in the familiar scent of their home, of Carl's bubblegum shampoo. His head throbbed harder from the young boy's voice right beside his ear, but he didn't care. He choked out, "It's okay, Carl – _I'm_ okay. I jus' – I had a real long nap, son."

And then he felt Carl's tears on his neck, dampening the collar of his hospital gown as the little boy cried into his shoulder. He sobbed. A mixture of sadness and happiness. And relief to see his dad awake. Rick squeezed him tighter and rubbed a hand soothingly over his back. " _Shh_ , c'mon, it's okay. I'm alright."

" _Jesus_ , Rick," Lori's voice made Rick open his eyes and look up to meet the woman's gaze. She was watching her son and husband hug with wide eyes, wringing her hands together nervously. "We were so worried. It's been… it's been over a _month_. The doctors didn't know if – if you'd _ever_ wake up. Or be the same."

He sniffled and gently pried Carl's arms from around his neck, giving him a light kiss on the head before leaning back to look at Lori. "Well, here I am. Feel like shit, but I ain't brain dead or paralyzed. So far."

Lori let out a long, shuddery sigh, like she'd been holding her breath. He could see her blinking back tears, then she took a step forward, pausing while Carl climbed up onto the bed to sit with his dad. Rick scooted over to make room, and then Lori approached the bedside and leaned over Carl to wrap her thin arms around Rick's neck. She hugged him tightly, and he hugged her back, burying his face into her chest, a sudden relief flowing through him as she held him and he breathed in her familiar scent. She smelled like home, too.

"You scared the _hell_ out of us," she whispered, her cheek pressed to the top of his head. "I'd started ta think… I-I just couldn't imagine losing Shane _and_ you…"

He heard the despair in her voice and his stomach knotted up. _Shane_.

"Oh, Rick, I love you," Lori whispered, voice choked with tears. "I'm so sorry for that _stupid_ fight we had before you left, I'm sorry for – for _everything_. I was so terrified t'lose you. I-I was so – I felt so _horrible_ knowing what my last words t'you were…"

He couldn't hold back the tears brimming his eyes anymore. Rick felt the wetness on his cheeks, felt the cannulas being pressed uncomfortably into his nose from burying his face into Lori's chest, and the scruff on his face itching from the fabric of her dress. But he didn't care. He squeezed her tightly and let a few more tears escape. The last morning he could remember didn't matter to him anymore. He didn't care what she'd said. She didn't mean it. He could tell; he could feel it in the way she held him now. Then they pulled apart and she leaned down, holding his face in her hands and kissing him softly on the lips.

"Mom, I'm _right_ _here_ ," Carl muttered in annoyance, leaning farther away from his mom and dad as they kissed.

Rick felt Lori smile against his lips and he let the corners of his mouth tug upwards into a small smile, as well. She kissed him again before pulling away, continuing to hold his face in her hands, gazing down into his eyes. Tears streaked down her cheeks, cutting a track through her light layer of makeup. She offered him a weak smile, but he could tell from the look in her eyes that they had a lot of talking to do. He had a lot of catching up to do. And none of it would be pleasant.

Lori pulled one of the chairs over to sit at his bedside, her arms resting on the edge of the white sheets as she held his hand tightly. Carl sat up at the edge of the bed, squeezed in beside his dad with his hands resting over Rick's blanketed legs. He was glued to Rick's side, like when he was a toddler. Rick could still remember little Carl constantly clinging to his legs like it was yesterday. And then, in the blink of an eye, he was ten years old and spending weeks away from home at summer camp. Rick was afraid that if he blinked again, he'd be watching his son drive off to college. He was still badly shaken up from finding out that he'd lost an entire month of his life to a head injury.

Lori's face was pale, her eyes searching Rick as she squeezed his hand. He could tell she was dreading having to tell him about everything he'd missed. Her voice was weak, still choked up with unshed tears, as she asked, "What'd the doctor say? I couldn't find him on my way up here – you talked to 'im, right?"

Rick nodded, gazing back steadily into his wife's hazel eyes. "Yeah. Edwards. He said I uh, got lucky. Pretty much. Not exactly the most _pleasant_ guy I ever met. Guess I interrupted his breakfast by wakin' up from my coma."

Lori frowned and rolled her eyes, lip turning up in a scowl. "Figures. I don't know _why_ they insisted on movin' you here – this place is… so _ghetto_. I'm sorry, baby, I'll see what we can do about gettin' you back ta Harrison."

Rick shrugged. "Ain't that bad. Don't matter anyway – I won't be in here much longer. They'll release me soon, then I can get back t'work."

Lori furrowed her brow and gave Rick's hand a harsh squeeze. "Rick, I think work is the _last_ thing you should be thinking about right now. You just woke up from a _coma_. We – we don't even know if you're really… _okay_."

Rick gave her a quizzical look. "I woke up. I remember everythin'. I can move everythin'. I'm fine."

Lori sighed and looked down at her hands covering his, licking her lips nervously before she explained, "You – it could be _temporary_. There's this thing that happens when people wake up from a coma, an' sometimes they wake up and act like they're perfectly fine, but then the injury is so traumatic – "

"Lori, _stop_ ," Rick interrupted, and she stopped, her eyes quickly flicking up to meet his again. "This isn't one a yer _Grey's Anatomy_ episodes. Don't talk like that." He glanced at Carl, who was fidgeting quietly with a loose thread in the blanket. Listening. Always listening, Rick knew.

"I'm just – I'm sorry. I need ta talk to Edwards, find out what they think of yer recovery," Lori apologized, her grip on Rick's hand loosening. "It'll still be a long rehabilitation. You won't be ready for something like _work_ for a while, honey. You have to take time ta _heal_."

He was starting to feel like she was talking down to him again. Like he was a complete idiot who needed help understanding the simplest concepts. But he pushed it down and reminded himself that Lori was a worrier. She'd _always_ been a worrier. And this was no different. It was how she showed her love. It was also how she hid her fear. Everyone dealt with their fear in different ways. She dealt with hers by nagging, fighting, and overcompensating.

"Fine. Talk to the doctor," Rick said, speaking softer and gazing apologetically into her eyes. "But I promise, I'm _fine_ … I know it'll be a little bit, I'll have ta be out. But they'll need me back as soon as I'm able."

He could see Lori chewing on the inside of her cheek, a small flare of anger flashing across her eyes. Then she said, "Rick, you spent a _month_ lyin' in a bed, gettin' all your meals through a tube an' pissin' through a catheter. That damn job was fine _before_ you, they'll be fine without you now. How can you wake up from a _coma_ and immediately start talking about gettin' back to _work_?"

"Lori," Rick replied simply, staring back unwaveringly. "Who put me in the coma? An' more importantly: who killed Shane?"

Lori's jaw clenched and he saw another flash of anger in her eyes. But it wasn't towards him this time. She cleared her throat and looked down, away from his expectant gaze. He heard her sniffle, and then she pulled one hand away from his to wipe at her eyes, head hung low so he couldn't see her face. Her other hand was still resting loosely over Rick's. He waited a few seconds longer for an answer, but all she did was shake her head and sniffle again.

"You don't know, do you?" Rick asked quietly, a knot quickly forming in his throat. "That's why I have t'get back to work. I have to find who's responsible, find the Greene's. I have t'get justice – "

Lori lifted her head and met his gaze again, her teary eyes narrowed. She returned her hand to the top of his and squeezed it, interrupting him with a firm and defiant tone of voice as she spoke. "Maggie Greene put you in a coma. And that _evil_ little girl, Beth Greene, _murdered_ Shane. Everyone says Hershel orchestrated the whole thing – we _all_ _know_ who did it, Rick. We all _know_ who needs to pay. That entire family is locked up. Except Beth. But they'll find her soon, they get closer every day. You can help get justice by _getting better_ , and goin' t'court to testify."

"What – _Beth_ Greene shot Shane? Maggie… the brunette?" Rick asked, voice weak as this new information began to process in his head. "What'd she _do_ ta me? What'd she hit me with?"

Lori's eyes softened and she squeezed Rick's hands tightly, leaning in a little closer. "Oh, baby. You didn't see _anything_? Or you don't remember?"

Rick blinked, head throbbing harder than ever. "No, I – yeah, I _remember_. But I… heard a weapon discharged. I thought it was Shane's. Then I saw 'im. Layin' there – but I didn't see who hit me. She – she _blindsided_ me. It all happened so fast."

Lori's eyes teared up again and her bottom lip trembled. She cleared her throat but her voice still cracked as she slowly explained, "Beth shot Shane in the back. Like the _coward_ she is. It penetrated his heart. He-he was dead by the time he hit the floor. You – Maggie used a _lamp_. She bashed you over the head. They tried to _kill_ you, baby."

Rick felt a sharp pain in his chest. He could still see Shane lying on that floor. He'd been dead in that moment. Was that true? Was it possible? For someone to be killed so suddenly, so instantly? Beth Greene… he'd _seen_ her. She'd been standing off to the side. She'd appeared harmless. Rick had given her a twice-over with his eyes when he entered the farmhouse, glanced at her a time or two from his peripherals afterwards. He could remember every single second between stepping through the front door of the farmhouse and being hit over the head. That little blonde girl hadn't said a word. But she also didn't have anything in her hands. Had she been hiding a weapon the whole time? Had he somehow missed it? How could he have thought to turn his back on that wide-eyed, pale-faced teenager?

"Wait," he said, closing his eyes in an attempt to dull the throbbing in the right side of his head. "You said – they'll _find_ Beth? She's not locked up? What about Maggie? Hershel? They busted the farm, how could they not…"

He trailed off and opened his eyes again to see Lori's sympathetic gaze. She nodded and explained, "Of _course_ they did. You and Shane brought that _entire_ operation down – they might've _never_ gotten that family in handcuffs if it weren't fer you two. But… they tried ta run. Maggie an' that Asian guy got tackled. But Beth… got away. She ran into the woods. They _lost_ her."

Rick swallowed past a painful knot that had gradually been forming in his throat while Lori talked. Every new piece of information was like another knife to his heart. He wasn't sure that he could handle this much bad news in such a short amount of time. And this much guilt. He couldn't help but feel like it was all his fault. Rick was supposed to be Shane's _partner_ , supposed to cover him and protect him from shit like this. If he'd only been more prepared, more attentive, he could've helped bring _all_ the Greene's down. Little Beth would be locked up just like her no-good daddy and sister. Shane wouldn't be dead.

" _Lost_ her, huh," Rick mumbled, resting his head back against the pillow and gazing up at the ceiling. The heavy weight of defeat was filling his every muscle. "You said… they're gettin' close, though? They're about ta find 'er, charge 'er for his murder… right?"

He looked over at Lori and watched her chewing on her lower lip, eyes clouded. She replied softly, "Yeah. There – they get tips almost _every_ day. She can't run far. They've got her on a no-fly list, they sent her pictures out to every border agency – she's a kid. A _stupid_ kid. They'll _catch_ her. But you don't need ta worry about it. You have enough on your plate with recovering from this injury. _Then_ we can talk about gettin' back t'work."

Rick closed his eyes for a long moment and sighed. Then he opened them to gaze over at Carl, who was still sitting quietly by Rick's legs, fidgeting with loose threads in the blanket. He turned his head to meet Lori's sad eyes again. She was watching him expectantly, still squeezing his hands as if to remind him that she was there.

"Why weren't you here?" He asked quietly. "I woke up an' looked for you. The nurses said you only visited a couple times."

Lori furrowed her brow, frowning. "Rick, I couldn't just drop _everything_ t'spend every second here, _waiting_ for you t'wake up. We visited when we could, but things have been hectic. It's hard for us t'even go out in _public_ anymore. Besides, a hospital isn't a good place for a child t'be all the time… I didn't want Carl t'see you like that. He was always so upset when we'd visit."

"What d'you mean, hard fer you t'go out in public?" Rick asked. "I understand you had t'take care a stuff, but only comin' ta check on me _twice_?"

Lori sighed, pulling her hands back and resting them in her lap. Her back stiffened. "It's – the reporters are _ridiculous_. This case is being kept so quiet that it's drivin' the media _crazy_. They won't stop sniffin' around for information t'put in their little articles. They won't even leave me an' Carl alone."

Rick shook his head, bemused. " _Reporters_? Shit – Shane was right…"

Lori gave him a questioning look.

He sighed and explained, "I didn't – I thought Lerner was _wrong_. I didn't think old man Greene's operation would _be_ that big. Shane kept talkin' about how much money he thought the Greene's were really workin' with. How busy we'd be with all the interviews we'd have ta give about bustin' somethin' so large-scale. I… underestimated the whole damn thing."

"Oh, baby, no," Lori said softly, eyes full of sympathy as she reached out to grab his hands again.

"Mom, yer just makin' Dad sad," Carl spoke up, grabbing their attention. "Can't we tell him the _good_ news now?"

Rick furrowed his brow and looked from Carl to Lori. "There's good news?"

Lori quickly shook her head and dismissed it. "Carl, _hush_ – I told you, _I_ will tell him when the time is right. Dad's had a long morning, an' he's got a lot ta process already."

Carl closed his mouth tightly and looked back down to the threads he was fidgeting with.

 _When the time is right? For what?_ Rick thought. He started again, "Lori, what're you – "

But she was pulling her hands back and standing from her chair. "You must be _starving_ , baby. Did they bring you any real food yet?"

Rick's head suddenly felt swimmy, like he'd just downed two shots of whiskey back-to-back. He blinked and shook his head, trying to brush it off and keep it from showing on his face. He closed his eyes for a long second, doing his best to appear thoughtful rather than confused.

 _Wait, what were we talking about – news? Something about bad or good – reporters?_ He thought. He couldn't figure out why he felt so confused, and for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was that he had just been asking Lori about. Carl had said something? It must not have been important if he'd already forgotten what it was. Lori was talking about food now. Food. Okay, maybe he just needed some food. _Real_ food, not paste through a feeding tube.

The odd sensation in his head ebbed away, leaving only the throbbing behind. He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes roughly with one hand, then looked back over at Lori. But she had turned and walked away. She was standing at the door now, peeking out through the small, rectangular window. Carl was watching him, though. Their eyes met and the young boy gave his dad a slightly concerned and quizzical look. Rick worried that he would scare the poor kid more than he already had, so he quickly put on his best attempt at a smile.

"Jesus _Christ_ , they're already swarming around here. Like _vultures_ ," Lori hissed, staring through the window of the door.

"What – who?" Rick asked, trying to see over Lori's shoulder and find out what she was talking about.

She shook her head and turned around, walking briskly over to the bedside and reaching out to grab Carl's hand and urge him off the bed. "I'll go deal with 'em – an' then I'll find that doctor and find out how you're doing. We'll bring you back something from the cafeteria – you want a muffin? Maybe some cherry Jell-O?"

Carl hesitantly slid down off the bed and joined his mother, taking her hand. Rick shook his head, beginning to sit up. "No, don't go anywhere yet – "

"Rick, don't sit up," Lori scolded, stepping forward and reaching her free hand out to gently push him back. "We'll be right back. And hopefully I'll bring Edwards with me."

Rick sighed, relaxing slightly. "Alright… Jus' don't leave without tellin' me, would ya?"

"We won't," Lori assured him, and Carl stepped forward to hug his father once more before following his mother out of the room.

Rick could hear a lot of voices out in the hall for the brief moment that the door was open. Just before it fell shut, he could hear a woman's voice calling out – rather loudly, too: "Mrs. Grimes! Mrs. Grimes! _LORI_!"

But the door shut before he could hear Lori's reaction. And he couldn't see anything from his bed, not even through the rectangular window.

* * *

Nurse Phyllis returned before Lori and Carl could. She explained that they needed to move Rick out to get his feeding tube and catheter removed before they took him to another room for observation. Then she injected something into his IV for the headache, ignoring everything else he complained about, like the fact that he wanted to stay and wait for his wife and son to return before they performed any type of removals or tried to move him elsewhere. His objections died down when he began to grow sleepy, and he would've been angry about being medicated back to sleep if it weren't for how heavy his eyelids were, how numb his entire head felt, and how much energy it took to use his voice.

He must've managed to form at least one or two comprehensible words before drifting off, though, because the last thing he heard was Phyllis speaking reassuringly. "Trust me, sweetie, yer _lucky_ you don't gotta be awake when we take the catheter out."

Everything went black. Again. It felt like a split-second to Rick, and then his eyes were fluttering open and his heart was racing as he looked around in confusion. He immediately calmed when he saw Lori and Carl sitting at his bedside, perking up when they realized he was awake. Dr. Edwards was standing on the other side, gazing down at a chart and making notes with a pen. No food in his mouth this time, but the mustard stain was still present on his white lab coat. He looked up from his chart and gazed down at Rick through square glasses, raising his eyebrows like he'd been impatiently waiting for Rick to wake up.

"Rick, we're here – how d'you feel?" Lori asked, reaching out and grasping Rick's left hand in both of hers.

He looked around the room, taking in his new surroundings. The room they'd moved him to was larger, but otherwise identical to the previous one. It was the same sterile white, with the same curtains and chairs, as well as an identical sink on the opposite side from the bed right next to the bathroom door. The same paper Halloween decorations pinned to the walls, too. There was a large, navy blue curtain hanging in the middle of the room, separating the two halves. Rick was on the side closest to the window, while the occupant of the other half of the room was closest to the door. The beeps of Rick's machines weren't the only sounds in the room anymore. Now they were accompanied by the beeps of _more_ machines – someone else's heart and blood pressure monitors, on the other side of the curtain.

His mouth felt dry again and he licked his lips, struggling to clear his throat and speak clearly. "I-I feel fine. What – where'd they move me?"

"See? I _told_ you he was fine," Dr. Edwards muttered, pointedly looking at Lori. "If he had been dying, they wouldn't have sent 'im _here_."

Rick looked back and forth from Lori to Dr. Edwards, watching Lori frown at the doctor and roll her eyes before squeezing Rick's hand and giving him a reassuring smile.

"Good t'see you again, Mr. Grimes," Edwards said louder, speaking to Rick now. "You're still in the ICU for observation, but we moved you to a shared room. Y'know, conserving resources an' all that. We took the feeding tube out – and the catheter – so make sure you get up if you have t'pee. Or just use the bedpan. I don't care. You can eat solid food, but take it easy. Stick to the soft stuff. The pain meds are gonna make you constipated enough as it is."

Rick couldn't stand this guy. Edwards spoke like doing his job was taking up too much of his precious time. But Rick was still too drowsy to get angry or upset, or even to argue. He just wanted more answers.

"How – how long?" He croaked out, pausing and licking his lips before elaborating. "How long you gonna keep me? Till I can go home."

Dr. Edwards shrugged and glanced at Lori, then back to Rick. He tucked the clipboard beneath his arm and stuffed his pen into the front pocket of his white coat. "A week. Maybe more. Depends on yer recovery. Let's take it one step at a time, shall we?"

Rick furrowed his brow and shut his eyes, sighing. When he opened them, Edwards was walking away, crossing the room and moving toward the curtain. Lori squeezed Rick's hand.

"Baby, I told you it'd be a long recovery," she said gently. "We just have ta be _patient_ – "

"No, I can't – I ain't gonna be laid up in a hospital fer _another_ month," Rick grumbled in protest, his voice coming out louder than he'd expected, or really intended.

Edwards stopped mid-stride and glanced back over his shoulder, meeting Rick's eyes for a second before stepping aside and reaching out a hand to grab the edge of the navy blue curtain. Rick watched as the doctor unabashedly pulled the curtain back to reveal the other half of the room. And the other bed's occupant. Lori and Carl spun around in their seats to watch, too.

"Mr. Grimes, this is your new roommate," Dr. Edwards said flatly. "His name is Jim."

Rick peered over at the other bed curiously, all the monitors and machines surrounding it, all the wires and tubes connected to the man lying in the bed. This man looked like he was in his thirties, pale skin, messy dark hair, and an unshaven face. But his eyes were closed. He was completely motionless. There was a thick, plastic tube in his mouth, and a machine that did all the work of breathing for him. The beep of his heart monitor was consistent. Steady. Mechanical.

"He's in something we call a ' _persistive vegetative state_ ,'" Edwards explained matter-of-factly, eyebrows raised. "He had a blunt force trauma to the head, too. A fifteen-pound bowling ball fell on him while he was cleaning out his garage. He had most of the same surgeries as you. A couple more hemorrhages, sure – nothing too serious. He was stable, recovering. Like you were just yesterday. But he _didn't_ wake up. It's been _four months_. His family is currently tearing each other apart trying to decide whether to pull the plug and, as they say: 'let nature take its course.' So…"

He smiled stiffly and pulled the curtain back to its original position, separating the two halves of the sterile white room again. Rick felt a shudder run through his body as he met the doctor's eyes once more. That other man was no different than Rick. He understood that. That could've very easily been _him_ in that bed.

"Let's be thankful you woke up. Everything else is just the price you pay for getting to survive," Dr. Edwards finished plainly. Then he put on another awkward, forced smile for half a second and glanced around at the Grimes Family before turning and briskly leaving the room.

Lori waited until the door had fallen shut behind Edwards to speak, eyes big and full of worry. "Well, he's rough around the edges, but – he's got a _point_." She squeezed Rick's hand and he scowled, looking away to stare blankly at the large curtain hanging in the middle of the room.

 _Reminding me that I got it better'an some schmuck I don't even know ain't gonna make me feel any better,_ he thought bitterly. _Might as well remind me that Shane lost his entire life an' I only lost a month… I fuckin'_ _ **know**_ _. Doesn't make laying in the hospital any easier. 'Specially when I know there's still a Greene out there, walking free._

"I'm sorry, baby," Lori said softly, leaning in closer. "If it's only a week, it won't be so bad. We can – "

Rick interrupted her, unable to hide the aggravation from his voice as he met her gaze, "It _can't_ be more than a week, Lori. I don't even wanna _think_ about the bill I already got racked up from spendin' the last month here – we can't afford fer me ta _not_ get outta here as soon as possible."

"Don't _worry_ about that right now," Lori scolded, squeezing his hand with both of hers in his blanketed lap. "We have insurance, we can deal with it after we make sure you get better."

Rick scoffed and shook his head. "Insurance we got ain't _that_ good. I don't even know if my new plan kicked in yet from my promotion. Jesus, I'll have ta get a second mortgage…"

Lori's eyes were tearing up but she quickly blinked them away. " _Stop it_. We will figure it out. More stress isn't gonna help you recover – how d'you _really_ feel? Be honest, Rick. No nausea, dizziness, confusion? Edwards an' that nurse said somethin' about – "

He stopped her because every word she said was grating on his nerves. "I'm _fine_. Don't tell _me_ not t'worry when it's the only thing you _ever_ do."

He wasn't sure why he'd said that aloud, or why his voice had sounded so cold. He saw Lori's eyes fill with more tears as she gazed back at him, an expression of confusion briefly appearing on her face. But then she pulled her hands away from his, resting them in her lap, and nodded.

"Okay," she sighed, and he could almost see her biting her tongue. Then she spoke with a lighter tone, putting on a stiff smile and glancing over at Carl. "I think your dad's hungry – let's go get 'im that food, okay?"

"Thought that's where you were goin' before they moved me," Rick muttered, speaking through a hoarse, dry throat. He watched Lori from behind heavy eyelids as she shrugged and stood up.

"They told me you were gettin' your feeding tube out an' you wouldn't be awake for an hour or two, so we waited for you t'wake up instead," she explained, moving around to gather her purse and cell phone. "Didn't want yer food t'get cold. C'mon, Carl."

Rick wanted to ask what they'd done while they waited, wondering whose voice he'd heard in the hallway calling Lori's name. But his throat was painfully dry, and then Carl was speaking, so Rick didn't say anything.

"But, _Mom_ ," Carl argued, gazing up at Lori from where he sat in the chair at Rick's bedside. "I wanna stay with Dad. I wanna tell 'im about school, and football, and – "

Lori threw up her hands in exasperation and sighed loudly. " _Fine_! I'll go by myself. But you'd better eat what I bring back. And _stay_ _in the room_. You got it?"

Carl nodded fervently and gave his mother a thankful smile before turning to look at Rick.

"He's with me, he'll be fine," Rick said weakly, loud enough that he knew Lori heard him.

She took long strides to the door before leaving, purse over her shoulder, muttering "sure, whatever" on her way out. And then it was just Rick, Carl, and Vegetable Jim.

After Rick had an extremely refreshing cup of water, he felt considerably better. He sat in bed, relaxing against the pillow and watching Carl's facial expressions change while the ten-year-old talked about his first month back at school, joining the football team, talking to the cute new girl, and which teachers he liked and didn't like. Rick smiled, his chest and head both feeling lighter than they had all day. Just being with his son and hearing him talk was enough to improve his mood and mindset. After a few minutes, he wasn't thinking about Shane or the Greene's or any of that mess. He just _really_ wanted to know if Carl planned on asking out this new girl, and if he would ever get along with his science teacher.

About fifteen minutes into talking about his adventures at school, Carl paused and glanced toward the door, and Rick got the feeling that he was looking for Lori. Then he looked back to Rick, the excited smile fading from his face as his big, brown eyes grew full of concern. He leaned in closer to the edge of Rick's bed, resting his elbows on the sheets and speaking quieter. As if Lori would hear him from the hallway, or Vegetable Jim would care at all about what he said.

"Dad, I'm _really_ glad you woke up," Carl said. "Everybody at school says yer a hero , but… I think I woulda liked it better if you didn't go ta work that day. I mean, it's cool that yer a hero. An' everybody says Uncle Shane's a hero, too. But I don't want you t'be a hero if it means you have ta die…" He looked down at the blanket, embarrassed and a little ashamed.

Rick's heart melted. He felt the guilt weighing down on him again, but he tried to sound strong and confident. "I'm sorry, Carl… about yer Uncle Shane." He couldn't manage any more words because a painful knot had settled in his throat, threatening tears.

Carl looked up again, meeting Rick's eyes and giving him a bemused look. "Why're you sorry about Uncle Shane? You did everything you could t'stop that bad Greene family."

 _Don't feel that way,_ Rick thought. He sighed quietly and swallowed hard, struggling to stare back into his son's expectant eyes.

He tried his hardest not to let his voice crack as he attempted to explain his guilt to a child. But Carl had to know the truth – that his dad wasn't perfect. And that mistakes had consequences. "Because I was his partner, and it was my job t'protect him. I – made a mistake. I underestimated that family. And Shane… lost his life over it."

Carl only looked more quizzical, furrowing his brow and studying Rick's face for a moment as his little brain worked to process the information. Then he frowned and shook his head. "No, Dad. This stuff happens all the time. I looked up a whole buncha stories on the internet about police officers gettin' killed by drug dealers, Uncle Shane didn't – "

"Does yer mom know you been readin' that kinda stuff?" Rick interrupted, growing agitated. Carl was too young to be reading all those horror stories. What kind of ideas had the kid been getting into his head while Rick was in a coma? Had Lori even taken the time to explain the whole situation to him? Or was she going to do the same thing she'd done after Carl's dog died – avoid it and make up transparent fairytales until he found out the truth on his own?

 _Maybe bein' outta work for a little while would be good for him. Havin' me around t'do more parenting – teach him the shit that I know Lori never will,_ Rick thought. But only briefly. As much as he loved Carl, he knew that abandoning work would not be an option anytime soon. Not when Shane's killer was still out there somewhere.

Carl looked away, ashamed again. "No, but – I'm not a little kid anymore, Dad." He lifted his eyes hesitantly to meet Rick's, who was listening with pursed lips while Carl continued, "I know what death is, an' I know how dangerous yer job is. And – and I was _scared_. I thought you were gonna _die_. Mom kept crying and throwing up, an' she'd get mad if I asked t'come see you. I think it was hard for _her_ t'see you in here. I wanted t'visit every _day_. I made you some cards, but… I forgot 'em at home this morning."

Rick was concerned by almost all of these sentiments – particularly the fact that Carl thought he was grown up already, as well as the fact that Lori had refused to bring him to visit when he'd wanted to so badly. What was that woman _thinking_ these days? But then he couldn't resist the small smile that formed on his lips at the thought of a stack of homemade cards from Carl. He was already excited to get home and find them.

"I bet they're beautiful, I can't wait t'see 'em," he said, smiling weakly. "I know yer not little anymore, Carl, but there's still some things ya can't quite understand. It'll make sense when you get older, but… I ain't no hero, son. Not even close."

Carl shrugged indifferently. "That's okay. You _will_ be. Mom says after they catch that Beth girl, that you'll help get justice for Shane. An' then you'll be a _real_ hero. Is that what you mean, Dad?"

Rick opened his mouth to reply but he couldn't find the right words. Carl was so innocent, still oblivious to the true nature of the world. He couldn't bring himself to shatter that. Had Lori bothered to explain that the justice system didn't always work the way it was supposed to? Had she been so swallowed up by her own grief that she'd left Carl to deal with things he couldn't understand all alone? Did he really understand death, or did he have some sort of skewed idea about it? What would happen once all the Greene's were behind bars and Carl realized that it changed absolutely _nothing_ – that Shane would still be gone, and Rick and Lori would still be permanently scarred? What would happen to his idea of "heroes" then?

He sighed, licking his lips and thinking about what he would say, gazing back into Carl's expectant eyes. Then he explained, "It might not be that easy, bud. I uh – I have ta get back out there, help 'em find that Greene girl. It'll take a long time before we get any answers. But they need my help. I can't sit back an' watch, hopin' they'll catch Shane's killer. I owe it ta Shane t'do everything in my power… D'you understand?"

Carl's lips were pressed tightly together, listening attentively. He quickly nodded and Rick could see the information being absorbed into his sponge-like little kid brain. Then he said quietly, "Yeah, Dad, I understand. Mom's gonna be mad, but – jus' be careful, okay? We're gonna need you more than ever soon."

Rick furrowed his brow, about to ask Carl what he meant, but the sound of the door opening stopped him, and they both turned and looked to see Lori returning with a tray of food in her hands. She smiled while she approached, door falling shut behind her as she crossed the room. Rick smiled back weakly, watching her set the tray on the small, swiveling table next to his bed, retrieving her and Carl's food before turning the table so that it rested over Rick's lap.

"Okay, I got you tomato soup an' crackers, and some juice," she explained, sitting down with a sandwich in her hands and turning to Carl. "And they were all outta chicken salad, so I got egg salad an' tuna salad."

Rick gazed down at the watery tomato soup in the beige, plastic bowl before him, a couple of packages of crackers sitting beside it, and a small carton of apple juice. He picked up his spoon carefully, then looked over to see Carl sniffing the sandwich in his hands and making a disgusted face before holding it out to Lori.

"Can I have the egg salad? This tuna smells weird," Carl asked.

Lori rolled her eyes, trading him sandwiches. "That's just how tuna smells."

Rick smiled wistfully, watching his wife and son as they unwrapped their sandwiches and opened their juice cartons, playfully bickering. He went back to his own meal, moving slowly as he struggled to firmly grasp the spoon between his fingers. He spilled his first few spoonfuls of soup, growing frustrated when his hands refused to remain steady but managing to keep it to himself. A couple more tries and he finally got his first taste of real food in over a month. It was disappointing, even for hospital food.

His stomach was grateful nonetheless, and he was proud of himself for keeping the spoon steady as he continued to eat. He even opened the juice carton completely on his own, which he was afraid would be more difficult than usual after fighting with the spoon. Carl and Lori didn't seem to notice him having any problems, though, and they began discussing some of the things Rick had missed while he was asleep. He was relieved to hear Lori talking casually and somewhat optimistically about normal things, her voice sounding less weary and strained than before, and a smile appearing on her face while she looked from her son to her husband.

He was even more relieved to find his strength slowly coming back to his hands and fingers – he was feeling better already, and thinking about how he would be out and back to work in no time. Lori and Edwards were underestimating him, as usual. Which meant he'd have to work doubly hard to prove them wrong. Not that he wasn't used to it by now. According to Edwards, he'd already defied the odds just by waking up. Everything else would be cake. Rick had _always_ been resilient, and he was proud of that fact.

Lori and Carl sat and talked with him for a couple of hours after they'd finished eating. They discussed Carl's first month back at school, what Rick had missed in church, and how the rest of the family had been doing. They all seemed to have silently agreed to avoid talking about the Greene case or the media or whatever other problems Lori had been dealing with alone, at least for the time being. Bellies full of food, no matter how mediocre, and lots of reminiscing had put them all in better moods. Rick followed Lori's cue and left all the argument-provoking questions at the back of his head for the day. There would be plenty of time later, after he was out of the hospital, when he could ask her why she didn't bring Carl to see him – among other things. For now, he wanted to enjoy their light-hearted conversation and catch up on _everything_ he'd missed. Seeing all the photos on Lori's phone that she'd been taking since he'd been asleep, of Carl on his first day of school and during numerous other activities, gave him a rush of appreciation and love for his wife. No matter how much they argued these days, there would always be some things about her that he couldn't help but love. Like her need for lots of family photos, scrapbooks, and photo albums.

She helped him get out of bed and walk to the bathroom for the first time, forcing him to move slowly and carefully. He was frustrated at the way she was coddling him, like he could fall over and break a hip at any moment. But when he realized just how weak his legs had become, he bit back any complaints and accepted her assistance. He did, however, insist on conducting his _business_ alone. Once he'd gotten back into bed and Lori was tucking the blanket in around him, he felt rather proud of himself. And once again, he was reassured that this recovery would be a breeze. It was just a case of cleaning out all the cobwebs – he was sure of it. He was already thinking of ways he could convince the doctor to release him early.

Carl was talking about his upcoming parent/teacher conference when there was a light knock at the door. He paused as they all turned their attention to the door, watching a young, male nurse open the door a crack and peek his head in. He glanced over Rick and spoke to Lori.

"Mrs. Grimes, that reporter lady is here again, should I –"

Lori was on her feet in the blink of an eye, cutting him off as she crossed the room and approached him, "I _told_ you, she is not allowed anywhere _near_ this room – didn't you talk to Edwards? I've had this conversation _more_ than once with him…"

She lowered her voice and Rick couldn't hear what they were saying. But within a few short moments, the nurse had disappeared and the door was shut again. Lori was peering out through the rectangular window, and when she turned around, her lips were pressed into a thin line and her nostrils were flared. Rick wanted to ask what was going on, but then the door opened again. Lori paused next to her chair, spinning around, prepared to tell that nurse off again. But it was Nurse Phyllis this time.

"How's it going?" She smiled at Lori and Carl, walking straight for Rick. "Sorry ta interrupt yer family time, but it's time fer meds and a vitals check."

Lori nodded and put on a polite smile, watching Phyllis as she began checking Rick's monitors and machines, and then his bandages. Then Lori's gaze flicked over to meet Rick's, and her polite smile remained. It looked forced.

"Well, I think me an' Carl need t'get going anyway," she said, picking up her purse and slipping her phone inside before putting the strap over her shoulder. "I've still got some errands I need t'get done today, and Carl has a sleepover tonight."

Rick and Carl frowned simultaneously, and Carl was the first to argue. "But, Mom, it's not even supper time yet. We can stay a few more hours."

"Yeah, don't go yet," Rick agreed softly. Phyllis injected something into his IV that made his head feel lighter than air for a brief moment, but he managed to stay focused on the subject at hand.

Lori sighed and shook her head, speaking to Carl and gesturing for him to get up and get ready to go. "I _know_ it's not supper time, but I have t'get this stuff done today and I'm _not_ leaving you here. I don't have the gas to be driving back here t'get you _and_ take you to your friend's house. Now c'mon, get yer stuff an' let's go."

Phyllis finished checking Rick's monitors and administering his medicine, and she gave him a brief, wide-eyed look before pressing her lips tightly together and silently turning away to leave the room. She seemed to walk a little quicker than normal, avoiding being stuck in the middle of whatever was going on.

"Oh, what d'you gotta do today that's _so_ important?" Rick asked, brow furrowed as he watched Lori shuffling around and urging Carl out of his chair.

She turned to give him an exasperated eye roll.

"I jus' woke up after thirty-four _days_ , babe," he reminded her.

She shook her head and approached his bedside, leaning in to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. Then she took a step back and stood with her hand on Carl's shoulder. "Weren't you listening ta _anything_ I said in the last hour? I have t'make sure the bills are paid and there's a _roof_ over our heads while yer in here, Rick. I'm trying ta raise our son and maintain our home all on my own."

Her voice was irritated already and she was looking for an argument, but Rick resisted. He simply sighed and closed his eyes for a long second, then opened them and nodded. He met Lori's gaze again and said, "Okay. Will you come back soon? _Both_ a you?"

Carl looked from his dad up to his mom, an expectant expression on his face.

"Of course we will," Lori said, tone softening just the slightest. "We'll stop by after church tomorrow – how's that sound?" She looked down to Carl with a weak smile, who nodded in agreement, then they both looked to Rick for his reaction.

He was dreading spending the next twelve or more hours in the hospital, all alone. But there was no use arguing. He knew that gas really was expensive, and being put in a hospital so far from home was more than inconvenient. He also knew that she was dealing with all her regular responsibilities on top of the responsibilities that were normally his. He understood that. All the more reason to get out of the hospital. She needed his help. Carl needed his dad.

So Rick nodded, his voice coming out more hoarse than he'd expected. "Alright, that sounds good. After church."

She gave another tight-lipped smile and assured him, "Yeah."

"Oh, want me t'say hi to Pastor Craig for you, Dad?" Carl asked.

Rick chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, bud. An' you can tell 'im that I'll be back at church _real_ soon."

Carl grinned. He climbed up and gave Rick an extra long, extra tight hug, sharing "I love you"s and "see you tomorrow"s. Then Rick watched his son follow Lori out of the room. The door fell shut behind them, leaving Rick with nothing more than the steady beeping of his and Vegetable Jim's monitors.

He wasn't alone for long, though. He guessed that Nurse Phyllis had been waiting for Lori and Carl to leave before returning, because she entered the room a couple of minutes later. Rick was resting his eyes, replaying all of the conversations with his wife and son in his head. He lifted his heavy eyelids and looked over to see Phyllis at his bedside, gathering up the tray full of plastic dishes, wrappers, and napkins. She smiled when she met his gaze.

"How you feelin'?" She asked. "Didn't wanna interrupt, but I had ta give you yer meds an' I wasn't sure how much longer they'd be here. Didn't spend too long, did they? Then again, that wife a yers seems like she's got her hands full."

Rick nodded slowly, watching Phyllis move about the room, searching for stray dishes and food wrappers. He said, "Yeah, she's – keepin' pretty busy, I guess. Too busy fer the husband that just woke up from a coma…"

Phyllis _tsk_ ed and shook her head, stopping and turning to face Rick with the tray held in her hands. "Oh, c'mon now. She's got a lot ta take care of, 'specially with yer whole situation. Between the legal stuff, the news reporters, the doctors – well, you've got a good woman. She don't back down from a challenge, that's fer sure."

Rick grunted. "Right. All the news reporters – who's the reporter lady I heard 'em talkin' about? Is somebody harassing my family?"

Phyllis furrowed her brow, feigning ignorance, but he could tell that she knew exactly what he was talking about. She shrugged and said, "There's tons of 'em. They're always tryin' ta slip in, an' now that yer awake, they're gonna be sneakier than _ever_. They just want their story, that's all. Don't care about the actual case none. Don't care that a man lost his life. You don't go worryin' yerself with all that, though – there ain't nothin' you can do in yer position anyhow."

"Jesus – _everybody_ already knows I woke up?" Rick asked, baffled.

Phyllis laughed lightly. "'Course they do. Although… I got my suspicions that there's somebody in this hospital leakin' information that they ain't supposed to, but – well, I'm workin' on figuring that out. Fer the most part, it's jus' the age we live in. Nothin' stays quiet fer long, not when everybody's got smart phones an' internet an' fifty different news channels."

 _Somebody leaking information?_ Rick thought, a little more curious about what Phyllis had said than he was sure she'd intended him to be. _Like a nurse? Or… a doctor?_

He shook his head and dismissed the thought, putting it at the bottom of his list of priorities when it came to finding out what was really going on. He asked, "Speakin' a which – can I get my phone? I'd like ta catch up on things, maybe call a few people."

Nurse Phyllis frowned and shook her head. "Sorry, hon, Doctor said he wants you t'take it easy today. No extended screen time or added stress, might make that headache even worse – seems like ya had enough stress seein' the family. I can turn on the TV for ya, if ya want! I been seein' you all over the news for the last few hours."

Rick didn't have the energy to argue or question Dr. Edwards' stupid rules. His head was still throbbing, but it had become so constant that he was starting to get used to it. Occasionally, it would fade away, or his head would feel numb for ten or fifteen minutes. But it always came back. At the mention of being on the news, his heart sped up momentarily.

He hadn't even thought of that, honestly. _Of course_ everyone would be going crazy about the fact that he woke up – it meant Maggie Greene wasn't a full-fledged murderer, and that he could testify when it came time to decide her family's punishment. But they were also probably expecting him to have some sort of verdict-changing testimony or something. A dramatic retelling of his and Shane's tragically heroic moment. And they were going to be awfully disappointed to find out that he barely remembered anything, let alone any details that mattered. Rick had a feeling he'd be dealing with _a lot_ of disappointment before all was said and done.

"Alright. Whatever," he mumbled, sighing and turning his head to gaze blankly up at the TV mounted on the wall across from the bed.

Phyllis grabbed the remote from the small bedside table with her free hand and turned on the TV, and the screen flickered to life. It had been left on the Disney Channel, and she handed the remote to Rick before asking if he needed anything else. He shook his head and thanked her for what she did, then she assured him she'd be back in a couple of hours for another vitals check and some medication, as well as dinner.

He waited until she'd left the room and the door had fallen shut to turn up the volume on the TV, then quickly changed it to channel two and started surfing through the hospital's basic cable. Their TVs were older – the big, clunky models from the 90s with less-than-crisp pictures. The remote only worked when it was tilted at a certain angle. And the commercials were _always_ twice as loud as the actual program.

Rick clicked through channels for a minute or two, searching for news stations. But it was late afternoon on a Saturday and all he could find were _Dr. Phil_ reruns and CNN talking about something the president had done. He flipped through all forty-two channels again, slowing down to search for advertisements pertaining to the local news. When he found himself clicking through the same channels for the fifth time, he gave up and settled on a station that was playing a rerun of _The Simpsons_.

Sighing aloud, Rick glanced over at the navy blue curtain hanging in the middle of the room. He looked back to the TV, listening to the consistent beeping of Vegetable Jim's machines. "You like _The Simpsons_ , Jim?" Rick asked. "I always got a kick outta Marge's sisters."

After about twenty minutes of watching TV, he felt his head throbbing noticeably worse. But he refused to admit to himself that Dr. Edwards might've been right to keep him from staring at a tiny cell phone screen all afternoon. He ignored the aching and continued watching TV. And when _The Simpsons_ ended, he flipped through the channels again and settled on another rerun of a slightly entertaining show.

The five o'clock news came on right afterwards. It was the local Atlanta news station, and he'd been pleasantly surprised when the familiar logo appeared on the screen and the jingle played. His back stiffened and he sat up, paying closer attention and awaiting the inevitable story on his miraculous recovery. And sure enough, after a brief rundown of the stories that would be covered during their broadcast, the anchorwoman put on a stoic expression and began reading from a teleprompter in a slightly dramatized tone. A headline in bright red letters appeared below her on the screen, and Rick squinted to read it on the small TV from across the room: " _Det. Rick Grimes Wakes Up From 34-Day Coma_."

"…breathing on his own for the last three weeks, which surprised the doctors, but they moved him to Grady Memorial Hospital for continued treatment and observation. And this morning, it's reported that he finally regained consciousness after spending _thirty-four days_ in a coma. Sources say he was awake and alert, with no signs of brain damage or any other long-term effects. His wife and young son were seen visiting Grady earlier today, of course – although uh, Mrs. Grimes has declined to comment for the time being. The family asks for respect and privacy at this time, as we can only hope that Detective Grimes continues with his incredible progress. Doctors say it is truly a miraculous recovery and Mr. Grimes is, to say the least, _lucky_ to be alive. As far as how this could affect the status of the Greene's case, we're still waiting to find out. As we know, Hershel Greene has already pled guilty and waived his right to representation. However, his eldest daughter and her husband have pled _not_ guilty – and recently, we learned that the prosecution could be considering the _death_ penalty for both Hershel and his daughter _if_ they are found to be guilty. As for the youngest daughter, Beth Greene, who allegedly shot and _killed_ Detective Shane Walsh: she is currently the target of an active search being conducted by the FBI, as well as multiple other law enforcement agencies…"

The beeping from his heart monitor had grown rapid, and though he already knew most of these things he was hearing, it didn't make them any easier to hear. Seeing his name on the TV screen was surreal enough, but hearing about what had happened to him from a complete stranger – as well as what was going on with the Greene case – made it all the more unnerving. It was almost like he'd gotten close to convincing himself that it had all been a weird, fucked-up dream. But now, seeing it on the actual news, on the channel he watched every evening if he was home with Lori, made it _real_. Inescapably real. Agonizingly real.

"Still don't know why they moved me here," Rick said aloud, using Vegetable Jim as more of an excuse to use his voice than anything. Obviously not expecting an answer. "Gotta say, though, I think you mighta got the short end a the stick here, Jimbo. If Edwards is the asshole that operated on you – maybe you never stood a chance."

He got bored with the news and changed the channel again, returning to sitcom reruns that somewhat distracted him. A short while later, Nurse Phyllis returned with a new tray of food, which she didn't set in front of him until after she'd finished checking all of his vitals and administering his meds. Rick made small talk with her and didn't argue when she insisted on helping him take a trip to the bathroom before she left. On her way out the door, she mentioned that her shift would be ending soon, and Sundays are "the Lord's day," so she wouldn't be back to see him until Monday – but she assured him that he was in capable hands. He thanked her again and watched the door fall shut behind her.

She'd brought him another light meal, something that would be easy to eat and digest. He found it better than the lunch that Lori had brought, and after whatever Phyllis had shot into his IV combined with a decent meal, he felt considerably better. The throbbing in his head dulled to a forgettable ache. He let himself relax, pressing the little button on the bed to make it lie back a bit more. But not too far, because as tired as he felt, he didn't want to go back to sleep. Not yet.

At this point, Rick felt that he'd rather spend all night watching TV and gazing out the damn window than sleeping. He'd had enough sleep to last him the next year or two. There was also a small part of him that dreaded the panic that had come along with losing consciousness – like when they'd moved him. It was almost like waking up for the first time all over again. Something always seemed to change while he was asleep, and never for the better. He didn't want to find out what would happen if he let himself drift off for another moment. He couldn't afford to miss seeing Carl grow up, not a single day. He had an irrational fear of slipping into another coma and losing more precious time.

Almost two hours after he finished eating, Rick carefully got himself out of bed and took a trip to the bathroom. He moved slowly and carefully, legs still shaky under the unfamiliar weight. But he managed to do it all on his own, and then he returned to his bed to relax. He panted lightly, feeling like he'd just sprinted somewhere. He hoped this extreme weakness would pass soon.

Dr. Edwards entered the room shortly after Rick had gotten settled back into bed. He walked with purpose, taking long strides across the room without so much as a glance in Vegetable Jim's direction. Rick watched him quizzically as he approached. Edwards walked around the bed silently, checking the monitors and jotting down notes on his clipboard.

After an awkward minute of watching the doctor work in silence, Rick spoke up, "What's goin' – "

Edwards cut him off, still looking down at his clipboard, "You ate, right? Been using the bathroom? Everything feels normal? No confusion, nausea, dizziness?"

Rick raised his eyebrows, nodding and replying tentatively, "Yeah. Everythin's normal so far. I feel better."

Edwards nodded, appearing satisfied, and jotted something else onto his clipboard, then set it down on a nearby table and reached into the pocket of his lab coat. He pulled out a syringe, uncapping it and reaching out to check the IV connected to Rick's hand.

"What's that – what're you _doin'_?" Rick asked, growing slightly panicked. "Phyllis already gave me meds with supper."

"Relax," Edwards said sternly as he quickly and calmly injected the syringe into Rick's IV. Then he disposed of the used needle in a bright red bin attached to the wall. "You've had a big day. You've got an even bigger day tomorrow. Prob'ly gonna have more visitors. And my babysitting shift is over. I'm about t'go home for the night, so…"

Rick furrowed his brow, confused, watching Dr. Edwards pick up his clipboard and make another quick note. He was checking Rick's monitors again. Rick asked, "So _what_? What's that s'posed ta mean? You gonna let those reporters in tomorrow or somethin'? I dunno if I feel good enough t'be givin' statements or anything yet – "

Edwards scoffed and shook his head, pulling another syringe from his pocket. But he paused, holding it in his hands, and finally met Rick's bemused gaze. "No, _trust_ me, I've been doing everything in my power t'keep those people _out_ of here. Some of 'em are more persistent than others… Some of them have a great fashion sense, but a – very _questionable_ sense of morality. But – no. I don't have _time_ for all that mess, an' that kinda stress causes nothing but problems for brain trauma like yours."

Rick swallowed, eyeing the syringe in Edwards' hands. "Okay, so what're you givin' me?"

Edwards shrugged nonchalantly and uncapped the syringe, leaning in and injecting it into Rick's IV with one fluid motion. Rick tensed reflexively. "Don't worry, you'll be _fine_. Just gonna make sure you get a good, _long_ night's sleep."

That's when the panic set in. All of Rick's muscles went momentarily rigid and he felt his heart speeding up. His eyes widened and he watched indignantly as Edwards disposed of the second needle.

"What? _No_! I – I don't wanna go back t'sleep. Not yet, I don't – "

" _Shh_ , you'll be _fine_ ," Edwards stopped him, picking up the clipboard again and casually making notes.

"No, please, I don't wanna…"

But Rick's eyelids grew impossibly heavy. And so fast, too. He had no time to prepare, or attempt to fight it. One second, he was staring up at Edwards, furious and baffled at the same time, fighting the urge to jump out of bed and tackle the doctor. And the next second, his entire body had gone numb. His head was floating away from the rest of his body, and he no longer had the energy to keep his eyes open, let alone to finish his sentence. His voice trailed off weakly. He felt the darkness reaching up to swallow him again, despite his best efforts to avoid it. He blinked and struggled to lift his eyelids again, managing to do so just long enough for one last look.

When Shane appeared, leaning against the wall behind Edwards with his arms crossed over his chest, appearing no different than the last time Rick had seen him alive, Rick told himself it was the weird moment between being awake and losing consciousness; he told himself it was that mid-cognizant moment in which everything you'd known was real suddenly came into question. Because there was _no_ _way_ Shane was really there.

Yet there he was, messy dark hair, gray T-shirt and worn jeans, cocky smirk on his face as he leaned smugly against the wall and gazed at Rick with the same look he'd given his partner a million times before. His skin had the same lively, olive tone to it. His brown eyes were bright and mischievous, glowing in the hazy evening sunlight. He had a five o'clock shadow on his face, like he normally did, because he hated shaving every day.

At first, Rick thought he had already slipped into a dream. Or a nightmare. But it was too real, too vivid. And Dr. Edwards was still standing there, making his little notes and watching Rick slip into a deep sleep. So it _had_ to be real. The only question: was Shane _really_ there? Could it be his ghost? Or was Rick finally losing his fucking mind, once and for all?

He would've asked. He would've pointed Shane out and said something. But there was no time. No energy. The last thing he could remember before being swallowed up by dark unconsciousness – and the thing that confused him the most – was seeing Shane's mouth move. Hearing his familiar voice, clear as day.

"Damn, partner. That Greene girl really did a number on you, huh?"

He was _right there_. He was talking _to_ _Rick_. He looked real enough to _touch_. And he'd said exactly the kind of thing Rick would expect him to say. In exactly the smart-assed tone he'd expect him to use.

Rick wanted to respond. Reflexively, he wanted to quip, " _Yer really one ta talk with that bullet in yer heart._ "

But sleep overtook him before he could. Everything went black again. And he didn't dream at all. Not even about Shane.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** So yeah, Ghost!Shane is gonna be a Thing. The idea came to me suddenly and I realized it fit and was fun to write so here we are. Yep, this chapter only laid out MORE questions! :) Don't worry, there's lots more Det. Grimes chapters to come. Yes, that lady in the fuchsia dress was Jenny Jones. But next week will be back to Beth and Daryl's camping trip and seeing what they're up to while Rick is getting used to being awake.  
Please let me know what you think! And I'm adding photos to the Most Wanted board on Pinterest almost every day, so check it out if you like.  
Oh yeah, and Vegetable Jim is supposed to be Jim from season 1 of the show. You remember, the asshole who saved himself instead of his family and then expected pity when he got himself bit? Yeah. Fuck that guy. In this universe, his whole family is alive and he's gonna be dead lmao. Justice.


	59. you're the metaphors i can't create

**Warning:** explicit sexual content smack dab in the middle of this chapter.

* * *

 _ **you're the metaphors i can't create**_

The rain eventually stopped altogether and by the time Daryl and Dwight returned to camp, the warmth of the sun wasn't making much of a difference thanks to the thick, dark cloud coverage. Beth and Sherry were bundled up in sweaters and blankets, sitting on the log and talking about nothing in particular. Malachi woke up from his nap and spent about an hour with the girls, sipping hot cocoa and talking.

He wound up hunting around for bugs, staying within both women's eyesight. Daryl and Dwight returned carrying two fat rabbits and one of the biggest squirrels Beth had ever seen in her life. Mal was upset to see the animal carcasses at first, but then Daryl and Dwight explained that they would be supper for the night, and that the animals didn't get hurt or feel pain. After that, the toddler was fascinated, leaning in close to inspect the animals and asking if he could touch their fur a time or two. He watched closely as Daryl and Dwight cleaned the animals and prepared them for cooking later, all the while Daryl continued to explain the "circle of life" (with a lot of references to movies like _The Lion King_ to get his point across) and the prospect of hunting for food, as well as respect for the animals they hunted. Beth sat by and watched, too, smiling to herself as she listened to Daryl answering all of Mal's extensive questions. He still didn't seem convinced that the dead animals he'd just seen would somehow turn into edible food, but he would find out soon enough.

Lunch time came around soon after, and everyone sat around the fire to eat sandwiches and talk happily. Of course, the men had plenty to share from their brief time out in the woods. Dwight bragged about killing the squirrel with Daryl's crossbow, only to be quickly reminded that the squirrel was the _only_ shot he'd made – with _either_ weapon. Daryl had, apparently, shot both rabbits with his crossbow. Dwight, however, had missed three "easy" shots with his rifle, and Daryl joked that Dwight had become a lightweight and the one beer he'd had before they left had thrown off his aim. Sherry and Beth sat back and listened, laughing together and shaking their heads by the end of the story. But Beth was still trying to imagine what Daryl looked like when he was hunting with that crossbow. She couldn't help but notice how good he looked when it was on his back.

After lunch, everyone sat on the logs around the fire with full bellies and mugs of fresh coffee. Mal ran around the open area of the clearing, turning over every rock and branch in sight, digging into the dirt with his bare hands and generally making a mess of himself. Daryl let him go crazy after another tick check and repellent refresher, and the toddler's laughs were soon echoing off the trees around them. The adults sat and relaxed, making comments here and there about how watching Mal run around was already making them tired. But they all seemed to be enjoying the mini-vacation away from the city, with no real agenda except to enjoy the outdoors and each other's company.

Which they did – a couple more hours of reminiscing and sharing thoughts and opinions had lulled Beth into a comfortable state. She even caught herself making jokes right along with Dwight and Sherry, eliciting some kind of glint in Daryl's eyes when she looked over at him, smiling coyly. She managed to keep from blushing when he circled an arm around her lower back and pulled her in to sit closer with him on the log. _Their_ log. And every time Mal would run over to them, a cool rock or interesting bug in his hand to excitedly show to Daryl and "Rosie," he would strive for equal amounts of attention from both of them.

Despite a decent night's sleep, a satisfying morning spent fishing, and a whole afternoon of good conversation and good food, Beth still felt a little off. All day. Like there was a tiny, incessant alarm going off somewhere in the back of her mind. She was trying her best to ignore the bad feeling that was trying hard to creep up and settle in the pit of her stomach. She told herself it was the anxiety building up, and that she needed to let go. At least for the day. But she knew it wouldn't be alleviated until she could get a phone signal again and assure herself that nothing major had happened over the weekend.

For now, there was another guilt persistently making attempts to bother her, to cause that aching in her gut all over again. But this one was from the guilt of carrying on her elaborate lie – even as she sat and saw the stark evidence of Daryl's and Mal's attachment to "Rosie Wilson" being laid out before her eyes. Sherry was right: Daryl _had_ fallen for "Rosie." And so had Mal, in a different way. In a way that she knew he would be heartbroken if she suddenly disappeared, or had to leave.

A couple of hours after they'd had lunch, Mal asked for a snack. It satisfied him for another couple of hours, and then he was back at Daryl's side, asking when they would be starting supper. Dwight and Sherry agreed that they were getting hungry, too, so everyone began joining in to help make dinner. Sherry and Beth gathered all the cooking supplies and got a stew started over the fire, while Daryl and Dwight made the final preparations to the meat they'd cleaned earlier and got it ready to be added into the stew.

They moved about the small camping area cooperatively, talking and joking with each other as they worked. For a brief moment, Beth felt nostalgic. It was almost like camping with her family back in the day. Or helping her Momma, Maggie, and Shawn to make dinner in the kitchen of the farmhouse. Except this was a little better, because every now and then, Daryl would lean over and steal a kiss, or flash her a flirtatious smirk. And the butterflies in her stomach would come to life. In return, she made sure to brush her fingers against his any time she handed him something, and she would playfully bump her hip into his whenever she had to squeeze past him. Earning more smirks and coy side-eyes from behind strands of dark, shaggy hair.

 _I could get used to this,_ Beth thought, wistfully gazing at the distressed wings on the back of Daryl's vest as he helped Dwight a few feet away. Then she quickly reminded herself, _I'd better not, though._

The sun had crossed the sky and was nearing the horizon in the west, still mostly covered by passing clouds. There was a new chill in the air brought in by the arrival of evening, but it only worked to stir up the smells of cooking food that were rising around the small campsite. The cicadas were coming to life in the surrounding woods, their screams beginning to drown out the birds, and Sherry turned on a few more lights in preparation for nightfall. They all sat down together around the fire with bowls of rabbit stew, squirrel dumplings, and dinner rolls. Mal sat right between Daryl and Beth on their log, of course, while Sherry and Dwight sat close together on the other log.

For the first half of their meal, Mal couldn't stop marveling at how the rabbits and squirrel had somehow ended up into their bowls, and how they didn't taste anything like rabbits _or_ squirrels. Daryl reminded him that he wouldn't know since he'd never had either of them before, but that didn't stop him from repeating himself after nearly every bite. For the second half of the meal, Mal grew preoccupied with getting more of the stew into his mouth than onto his shirt, and Daryl reminisced some more about past hunting trips with Dwight and Sherry. Beth was usually quieter when she was eating, refraining from joining in on conversations as she was too focused on her food more often than not. And she was self-conscious of people seeing her talk with her mouth full. It was no different now, though she was occasionally glancing over at Mal and wiping random splashes of food from his forehead while he ate.

Then she realized that the conversation had drifted to another memory: the one time Sherry and Dwight had witnessed Mal having an allergic reaction. Daryl explained that it had been nearly two years ago, and he hadn't known about the allergy back then. He said it randomly appeared out of nowhere, manifesting during lunch at the mall one day.

Sherry recalled how terrified she'd been, but Dwight and Daryl laughed it off. Everything had turned out fine, of course. Mal was happy and healthy now, sitting right beside them, and that was all that mattered. Then Sherry frowned, taking a sip of her water.

"I still can't believe I almost gave him an allergic reaction this mornin'," she lamented, looking to Daryl somewhat apologetically.

Dwight chuckled, shaking his head and wrapping his free arm around her shoulders.

Daryl shrugged and shook his head. "Don't beat yerself up over it. Rosie caught it," he paused and turned his head to look at Beth, and she looked back at him, smiling sheepishly. He smirked and finished, "Good thing ya read the ingredients, huh?"

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "I don't _always_ read it – jus' had a feeling or somethin'. It was lucky I actually cared about what I was eatin' for once." She laughed lightly and looked over at Sherry and Dwight to see them doing the same.

"Yeah, but yer still a lifesaver," Daryl rumbled, pausing to sip his beer. "Always got an EpiPen on me, but – "

"Well, I really didn't wanna see you use it. 'Sides, those things are like, _crazy_ expensive," Beth finished for him, meeting his eyes again as her smile faded into a sympathetic frown. She could see Sherry and Dwight nodding in agreement as they worked on finishing their bowls of stew.

"No shit," Daryl mumbled, a look of gratitude in his eyes as he nudged her gently with his elbow before taking another big bite of stew. She looked down at her own bowl to hide the faint blush in her cheeks.

" _All_ that stuff is gettin' ridiculously expensive," Sherry commented. "Tina's insulin costs more every month than my _rent_."

"Costs an arm and a leg ta keep from dyin' if you ain't perfectly healthy," Dwight agreed grimly, accentuating the end of his statement by taking a rather large swig of beer.

They all " _hmm_ "ed together in quiet agreement, conversation lulling as they became focused on the remaining food in each of their bowls. Mal piped up to say he was full, leaving only a small amount of stew in his bowl and nothing but crumbs of the two rolls he'd had. Daryl quickly finished his meal, then went about helping the toddler clean up his mess, taking him to the edge of the woods for a bathroom trip afterward, then to the tent to change into a clean shirt. Beth offered help with cleaning up everything from dinner and putting the cooking setup away for the night.

While Dwight gathered trash and cinched up plastic garbage bags, Sherry and Beth gathered up any leftover scraps of food or stew to pack away. Beth kept glancing back toward the tent, hearing Mal's and Daryl's voices from inside and awaiting their return any moment. She was curious to see which shirt the toddler would be wearing this time. He'd already gotten mud all over his dark blue _Paw Patrol_ shirt, and now he had dirt and food all over his maroon firetruck sweater.

"Speaking of having _fallen_ for someone," Sherry's voice interrupted Beth's thoughts as the two women zipped up plastic bags and buried them deep down in the cooler, beneath layers of half-melted ice, quietly referencing what they'd talked about earlier that afternoon. "I don't think Daryl's the _only_ one you've gotten attached to, huh? You're attentive as hell, that's fer sure. You already act kinda like a parent."

Beth smiled, hoping it didn't look as tentative and awkward as it felt. Then she shrugged and pretended to be looking down at the ice, carefully covering the bags of leftovers and shifting the cans of beers around. "I dunno about a _parent_. But, I mean – I've babysat before. Kids are easy, 'specially when they can talk an' tell you what they need. An' like I said, the citrus thing was just a lucky coincidence. I ain't nearly as attentive as Daryl."

Sherry smiled, gazing over thoughtfully at Beth. "You don't give yerself enough credit. Might not be a _parent_ , but you seem like a nurturer by nature anyway. Some women are just naturals when it comes t'being a mother. I bet kids _always_ like you."

Beth shrugged, and her smile became a little more genuine. The other woman wasn't wrong– the few kids that Beth had babysat in middle school, mostly close family friends' babies or toddlers, always loved her, always acted like they were drawn to her from the get-go. She didn't know why, but they rarely gave her much trouble. She'd never associated it with what type of nature she had. But she also hadn't associated her and Mal's relationship with anything other than living in close proximity and doing a lot of fun things together. Although she wasn't about to try and deny the fact that she'd grown way more attached to the toddler than she'd ever intended. But that went for Daryl, too. So what was Sherry's point? She sounded like Beth's mom – who had always said the same thing: " _You'll make a wonderful mother one day, Bethy._ "

"I guess so," she muttered, still avoiding the older woman's gaze. "Not sure why. But Mal's not much different. He's actually _really_ well-behaved for his age – compared t'some a the kids I used to babysit."

She wasn't looking for any more interrogation about her very real, very deep feelings for the boys. She knew already. And she was working on dealing with that part. Finding out that it was becoming just as obvious to others was nothing more than an annoying reminder.

Sherry laughed and nodded in agreement. "Oh, God, I _know_! You should've _seen_ some of the toddlers I had t'watch back in Georgia. There was this one kid and his family was so nice, but they had a huge house, and the day I go over there…"

That was another thing Beth liked about Sherry. She talked about herself sometimes, too, and didn't push Beth to open up or say things that she didn't feel comfortable saying. Beth appreciated that. She didn't know if it was intentional or not, but she needed the break. And sometimes, it seemed like Sherry would start talking to Beth because she could see Beth beginning to clam up or beginning to think about something too deeply. Or maybe Sherry just liked to talk and make new friends. Either way, it worked.

After sharing a hearty laugh with Sherry about bratty toddlers from the past, Beth stood up and stepped away from Sherry and the cooler. Mal burst from inside the tent energetically, wearing a clean shirt – a turquoise, long-sleeved tee with the goofy, bug-eyed chicken from _Moana_ on the front – and running straight for Beth, immediately wrapping his small arms around her legs. Daryl emerged from the tent soon after, struggling to keep up with the toddler.

"Rosie, Rosie, can you, um – I – I uh, I saw," Mal stammered, too excited to properly form his sentence. Beth smiled down at him, patiently waiting for whatever question was coming. "I saw, I think you, um – can you – "

"He wants t'know if you wanna play some music for us," Daryl clarified, approaching behind Mal and smirking at Beth.

She paused, briefly glancing over at Sherry and Dwight. Sherry was still preoccupied with shifting around the beers and leftovers in the remaining ice of the cooler, while Dwight had looked over with an expression of intrigue on his face.

"You gonna play that guitar you brought?" He asked, stepping around the campfire to walk over and join Sherry at the cooler.

Beth shrugged and looked down at Mal, his eager grin and expectant eyes awaiting her answer.

"Yeah, yeah, _are_ you?! _Pwe-ease_?!" He begged.

She chuckled. "Alright, yeah, I will. But _only_ 'cause you said 'please.'" Her eyes flicked over to meet Daryl's and they exchanged impish half-smiles.

Mal's grin grew wider and he let go of Beth's legs, jumping back and exclaiming happily, " _Ya-ay_!"

"Oh, awesome, I'd love t'hear you play!" Sherry agreed, shutting the cooler and standing up.

Beth blushed and shrugged again. "Okay, I'll go get it. Dunno if I know any songs y'all will like, though."

Dwight and Daryl shared a laugh as Beth turned and headed toward the tent that Daryl and Mal had just emerged from, and she heard Dwight comment, "Whatever you play, I'll like. Any music is better'an listenin' ta these damn cicadas all night."

She slipped inside the tent briefly to grab her guitar and returned, carrying it carefully and approaching the group again. Mal was running around nearby, back to digging around in the dirt for more bugs and worms and whatever else he could find. His hands and clothes never seemed to stay dirt-free for more than a few minutes. Dwight was reaching into the cooler, retrieving two beers for him and Daryl and a water for Sherry. Beth saw him frown as he stood up and held the beer out to Daryl.

"We're almost outta beer _and_ water," Dwight said. "Gonna have ta make a trip back to the truck fer the other cases."

Daryl nodded, popping open the tab on his beer and taking a swig. "I'll go. Y'all can stay here – if ya wanna watch Mal fer a li'l bit."

Sherry nodded, moving over to take a seat on the log with a wet bottle of water in her hands. "I'll stay an' watch him, no problem."

"Sure you wanna carry both those cases by yerself?" Dwight asked, slightly furrowing his brow at Daryl.

Daryl shrugged and glanced over at Beth. Her heart leapt and she instantly understood the subtle expression on his face right before he looked back to Dwight. "I could use the exercise."

Heart beating a little faster, Beth spoke up, "I'll go with you, babe."

She smiled, looking pointedly at Daryl. She felt her heart briefly jump inside her chest again, unsure of where she'd found the courage to say _that_ aloud. _And_ in front of two other people. But there it was. She'd finally turned it around on him.

Dwight and Sherry didn't seem to notice, though. They shrugged and watched Daryl, awaiting his agreement. He looked back over at Beth and she saw the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, followed by a glint in his eye. He nodded concisely.

"Alright. If ya really want to," his mouth said. But his face said, _Glad you picked up on that invitation._ And he discreetly arched an eyebrow in her direction.

She felt a rush of excitement and curiosity, as well as warmth in her cheeks, and she quickly turned around and walked over to set her guitar down against the log. When she turned back around, Dwight was taking a seat beside Sherry on the other log and Daryl had moved to set down his beer and quickly snatch up a flashlight nearby, as well as the keys to Dwight's truck.

"Don't take too long – there's bears out there, an' I ain't gonna come save ya if yer pants are around yer ankles," Dwight commented teasingly, eliciting a loud laugh from Sherry.

Beth giggled and shook her head, trying not to be embarrassed at the fact that Sherry and Dwight had already picked up on her and Daryl's little idea. She watched Daryl roll his eyes and quickly walk away from his friends, a bashful half-smile on his face as he called out, "Yeah, whatever!"

He called Mal over and explained that they'd return soon, though the toddler didn't seem very interested and was in a hurry to get back to his hunt for bugs. Then Daryl reached out and grabbed Beth's hand, carrying the flashlight in his other, and they walked together across the campsite and into the dense trees. Her heart thumped harder and harder as they walked further away from the camp and the others. Her palm was already sweaty, fingers interlaced with Daryl's, even though the rest of her body wasn't even close to being sweaty in the chilly evening air.

The sun was quickly sinking below the horizon as they ventured into the woods, and Daryl kept the flashlight trained closely on the path in front of their feet while he gripped her hand. They shared a look here and there, but they were mostly quiet as they walked, focusing on the tricky undergrowth beneath them and the hidden rocks waiting to trip them up. They made the trek a lot faster than the first time, though, without Mal to slow them down.

About halfway through the walk, Daryl spoke, his low voice sounding foreign among the quiet nature noises around them. "Did ya mean t'call me babe, or was it an accident?"

Beth furrowed her brow, reflexively letting out a soft laugh at the question. She looked over to find him studying her, a playful smirk teasing across his mouth. She fluttered her eyelashes in his direction and flashed him a flirtatious smile. "It's not really somethin' you say on accident – is it?"

She momentarily held her breath, awaiting his answer and hoping she wasn't about to find out that his little " _babe_ "s and " _baby_ "s were just sleepy accidents. But he quickly shook his head and smirked, and she felt his hand squeezing hers as he replied, "Nah. It's not."

Beth smiled in satisfaction and went back to watching where she stepped, looking ahead and spotting the edge of the woods approaching a few yards away. They simultaneously picked up their pace the slightest bit, walking quicker toward their destination now that it was within sight. She gave Daryl's hand a light squeeze as they crossed the tree line and stepped out into the small clearing near the dirt road.

Their grips loosened and his hand slipped from hers as they approached the back of Dwight's Ford Explorer and Daryl had to hold the flashlight with one hand and reach into his pocket to grab the keys with the other. Beth stood and waited patiently, anticipation causing her muscles to tense. Her heart was racing much faster than it normally would have after a short trek through the woods.

He clicked a button on the key fob and the lights flashed on the truck, followed by a clicking sound that signaled it was unlocked. Then he stuffed the keys back into his pocket and lifted open the rear door of the Explorer, revealing the mostly emptied storage area that held nothing more than an unopened case of beer and an unopened case of water, both of which were shoved into the corner behind the backrow of seats. The dome light inside the truck came on as soon as the rear door was lifted open, and the light flooded out and across the mud and grass beneath their feet. Daryl clicked off the flashlight and set it down inside the truck.

He wasn't wasting any time – or maybe, Beth wondered to herself, he'd been anticipating this moment just as much as she had. Seconds after lifting the rear door of the Explorer and setting the flashlight aside, Daryl was turning around to face Beth and reaching out a hand to grab hers, pulling her across the short distance between them until she was stumbling forward into his arms. She let out a small giggle of surprise, leaning into his sturdy chest and tilting her head up to meet his lips as he circled his arm around her waist and leaned down to kiss her in one swift motion. Beth grinned against his mouth, and she could feel him doing the same.

Then his tongue was tracing and pushing against her lips, and she quickly parted them to allow entrance. Their tongues met and they deepened their frenzied kiss, Daryl's arm tightening around her and pulling her impossibly closer against him. He smelled and tasted like beer and cigarettes and a hint of the food they'd had for dinner, mixed with a faint musky scent that made her briefly picture him with the crossbow strapped to his back – imagining the way his arms might flex when he held it. Beth wrapped one arm around his middle and grasped the back of his warm neck with her other hand. Within seconds, they were panting breathlessly into each other's mouths, perspiration forming beneath their layers of clothing.

His hand slipped down over her lower back to firmly cup her ass and roughly pull her into him. When he did, she groaned in the back of her throat and he kissed her harder, nibbling softly on her lower lip. He squeezed her ass again, digging his fingers in where her butt met the back of her thigh and roughly pulling her into him again so that her upper thigh brushed against the growing bulge in his pants. She felt his breath stutter against her lips from the friction, and she pressed her thigh gently but purposely against the strained fabric of his jeans. He was so hard that she could feel his cock twitch and stiffen against her leg through both their pants, and his fingers were digging into the fleshiest part of her ass cheek. She grinned mischievously against his mouth and flicked her tongue out to run it across his lips, then bit down on his lower lip and teased his growing cock with her thigh again.

She could feel how impatient he was in the way he gripped her with his hands, and how frantically he kissed her. And how quickly he got rock hard. But she felt the same – desperate, starved, unable to wait another _second_ to feel his bare skin on hers. Hearing his breathy groans and feeling his twitching, stiffening bulge against her thigh was only making the tightness below her stomach build faster, and she could already feel her panties getting damp.

And then Daryl was grabbing Beth by the waist with both hands and effortlessly lifting her up off the ground and setting her down in the back of the Explorer. He didn't break their kiss the entire time, roughly pressing his lips to hers while he pushed her back until she was lying on her back and then scooted her up on the carpet-like interior to hoist himself up into the truck, as well, hovering over her. He used one hand to prop himself up while the other began fumbling between them for the hem of her shirts.

They kissed breathlessly, desperately, bathed in the bright, artificial glow of the dome light above them while they lay in the back of the Explorer, finally releasing two weeks of pent-up sexual frustration with the rear door sitting wide open. Anyone could walk up from the woods, or drive up on the dirt road, at any moment. Though it wasn't likely. So neither of them were worried about it. However, Daryl's bulging crotch and clumsy hands said that he was tired of waiting and being interrupted, and he wasn't about to let that happen again before they both got what they really wanted.

He finally found his way to Beth's bare skin, beneath the three shirts she wore, and roughly pulled them up, along with her bra, to expose her breasts. She shivered when the chilly air hit her skin and made her nipples immediately harden. Then he kissed her on the mouth, harder and longer, before breaking away and planting breathy kisses across her chin, down her neck, over the tender spots on her throat. He scooted back just a couple of inches and rested his weight on his knees, then gently grabbed her small, pert breasts in his hands and leaned down to kiss the soft skin between them. She let out a moan, squirming as his hands massaged her breasts, thumbs flicking over her pebbled nipples, teasing them. His swollen lips left a small, damp trail of kisses between them, and his chin hair tickled her bare chest and sent shivers all through her body.

Then he slipped his mouth across one breast and wrapped his lips around an erect nipple, sucking lightly. She moaned again, wetness pooling between her legs. He let her nipple lazily slip from his mouth before trailing his lips and scratchy chin hair across her bare skin, still massaging with his hands, and then his mouth was on the other nipple – sure to pay equal attention. The combination of sensations was causing Beth's system to go haywire, toes curling inside her boots and muscles tensing with building tension. His hands squeezed her breasts again as he sucked a little harder, and when she let out another moan of pleasure, she felt his cock twitching in his pants against her leg. She could feel her own tightness growing, aching, _demanding_.

Before Beth could really wrap her head around the shivers, tingles, and chills coursing through her body from Daryl's mouth on her nipples and his hands groping her breasts, she felt his face moving across her skin again. This time, his lips were planting frenzied kisses all over the bare skin of her tummy, quickly heading further south. She hadn't expected this to be his next move, but she certainly wasn't going to complain. So when his lips reached the waistline of her jeans, and his fingers began clumsily fumbling with the button on her pants, she hurriedly helped him to finish unzipping the fly and pulling them down – along with her panties.

Daryl pulled them down to her ankles together, bunched up around her boots, and then swooped back down to resume his original position. As he returned to where he'd left off, trailing sloppy kisses below her bellybutton and around the small, plastic patch stuck to her skin until he reached soft, blonde curls, Beth realized that she'd never had a quickie that involved shoes being left on _and_ oral stimulation for _her_. A quickie had always meant oral for the guy, or some really brief, usually uncomfortable penetration. But it had never meant _this_. Though she definitely wasn't complaining. She was getting a whole new kind of rush from the thought of being outside, in the open, in the back of someone else's truck. Admittedly, Daryl had been redefining a lot of things for her lately.

He quickly and silently found his way to her clit, flicking his tongue out to tease the swollen nub. She let out a moan of need, which seemed to be the signal he was looking for, because then he wrapped his lips around it and sucked lightly, imitating what he'd done to her pebbled nipples. She moaned again and her hips reflexively bucked upward, and she felt his chin hair tickling her labia and then his lips were sucking harder, with more intent. A sharp tingle started where his mouth was and shot up through her entire core. She shivered and relaxed when one calloused hand placed itself firmly over her stomach and the other gripped a handful of fatty flesh at the back of her thigh. His tongue flicked out and teased her clit while his lips continued sucking, releasing, and sucking again. She was reduced to shivers and shakes within seconds.

And then his cool fingertip was at her entrance, tracing the damp skin around it, his mouth casually working her swollen, fleshy nub. Her hips bucked up into his mouth and she heard him grunt, his hand tightening its grip on the back of her thigh. Beth bit down onto her bottom lip and stifled an exasperated moan. She inhaled sharply and tried to still herself beneath Daryl's touch, the muscles in her abdomen tensing and flexing as his finger relentlessly teased her waiting entrance. He slipped the very tip of his finger into the juices pooling in her pulsing cunt, only to trace them along the outer edges, teasing her ruthlessly. Her breath hitched in her throat and she let out a long, throaty groan of need.

His lips released her clit and she felt his hot breath on it before she heard his muffled voice. "Goddamn, babe, yer _this_ wet, I ain't gonna last five seconds."

She smiled and let out a breathy giggle, glancing down to meet his licentious eyes staring up at her behind shaggy hair. Before she could attempt to quip back, he flicked his tongue out to circle the pink nub again and her eyes slammed shut, teeth gritting as another moan of ecstasy echoed in her throat and her spine stiffened.

She gasped in a breath and groaned out, "Stop _teasing_ me."

She didn't expect it to be that easy, but it was. As soon as the words escaped her mouth, she felt his fingertip slip over and slide effortlessly inside of her. Her breath caught in her throat and she tensed, then his finger was curling inside her, finding _that_ spot almost immediately, and his lips were wrapping around her clit again. The combination was overwhelming and a wave of ecstasy washed over her entire body. Her hips bucked upward, against his hand and into his mouth. His finger slipped in farther and curled again, pressing against the spot he no doubt could recognize by now. Beth moaned loudly.

"Oh, _God_ , yes…!"

Suddenly, it all stopped. Daryl's finger retreated, slipping easily out of her, and his mouth freed her clit, and then she couldn't feel his chin hair against her labia or his hand on her thigh or stomach. She opened her eyes and looked up with disappointment, but she found Daryl sitting up on his knees, hands working to hurriedly unbutton his pants and slide them down.

When his eyes met hers and saw the confused expression on her face, he quickly explained, "I can't wait any longer – I gotta feel you _on_ me."

A delicious shiver ran down Beth's spine and she smirked, watching him yank his jeans and boxers down together. His erection burst free, the shaft and head slipping out from beneath his boxers and popping up to immediately stick out, long and thick. She felt a twinge deep in her gut and the tightness intensified, and if it was possible, she could feel herself getting even more wet at the sight of his throbbing cock, the wilting tip glistening with precome. She impulsively reached a hand out and wrapped it around the shaft, giving one, then two quick strokes. Teasing him. She saw the muscles in his stomach flex and a shudder run through his whole body as his hips reflexively bucked into her hand.

She opened her arms and eagerly welcomed him in closer, pulling his body close to hers as he nearly collapsed on top of her. He propped himself up with his elbows on either side of her, hastily lifting his shirt to allow easier access to his cock. He positioned himself between her legs and she felt his dick twitching against her inner thigh, leaving a light trail of wetness on her skin. He leaned his head down and kissed her roughly, grunting and letting out a deep relief-like breath through his nostrils as she wrapped her arms around him and slipped her hands beneath his vest and shirt to dig her fingers into his back.

When they pulled away, breathless, he looked down between them and reached one hand down to grab his cock. But she squeezed the chunks of flesh gripped in her fingers and got his attention.

"You come prepared?" She asked, eyebrows raised expectantly.

His eyes flickered with realization and he nodded, pausing what he was doing to briefly sit up and lean back, reaching into one of the pockets of his jeans and pulling out a condom. He ripped it open with his teeth, then carefully pulled it out with his fingertips and gave Beth a knowing smirk.

"I'm always prepared," he said, his voice husky. She grinned and watched him roll the condom on over his erect cock, quickly resuming their previous positions as soon as it was on.

Daryl rested on his knees, his legs pressed close together while Beth's were open as far as the bunched-up pants around her ankles would allow. He rested his weight on one elbow, then reached down with his other hand and carefully guided his hard, thick cock to Beth's pulsing entrance. She was practically dripping in anticipation and with one quick motion, he was sliding inside of her, throbbing head bursting through her tight walls, stretching them open to accommodate him.

Her breath hitched in her throat and every muscle in her body tensed as he swiftly entered her, shoving every last inch of his stiff cock inside her aching cunt. He shuddered on top of her and a groan of relief came from somewhere deep in his throat, his breath hot on her neck and a few strands of shaggy hair tickling the side of her face. She dug her fingers harder into his back, bucking her hips up into his and welcoming him deep inside her, urging him farther.

He slowly and carefully pulled his hips back, pausing for less than a heartbeat before giving a rough thrust up into her. She felt him immediately hit the most sensitive part and let out a moan of pleasure, her eyes squeezed shut. She heard him grunt near her ear, felt his hot and heavy breath on her neck. He slid back, then thrust up and slightly forward again, quickly building a frenzied but steady pace. His breathing grew heavier, as did hers, and she rolled her hips up to meet his every other thrust, letting out stuttered gasps every time her clit found friction against his pubic bone.

" _Fuck_ , I missed this," Beth breathed out, her mouth right next to Daryl's ear.

As soon as it came out, his hips bucked faster and harder than before for three quick thrusts, and she felt his back muscles flex beneath her hands as he grunted.

"Yeah? I missed that tight li'l _pussy_ ," he growled, sending an intense round of shivers down her spine. She felt that familiar bubble growing, filling, getting so _close_ to bursting.

He built a steady rhythm, keeping himself propped up over her while he thrust his throbbing cock deeper and deeper into her contracting pussy. Her entire body was swallowing him up, urging him to stick around and make himself at home. Their breathing was coming in short, panting gasps, her fingers still dug into his warm skin. Sweat was forming on both of their faces and necks, and by the way he was obviously restraining himself from fucking her absolutely senseless, she could tell they were both getting close to their climaxes already.

With a few more thrusts, Beth felt the tip of Daryl's throbbing cock pushing and pushing repeatedly against the one spot that made her reflexively roll her hips up to meet his, and then her lips were parting involuntarily and she was panting heavier beside his ear. He thrust harder into her swollen, wet cunt and all her muscles tightened up in anticipation. He was panting heavier, too, jaw clenched as the ends of his hair grew damp from sweat.

"Oh – _fuck_ , babe, _right_ there," she gasped out, assuring him that he could _not_ stop what he was currently doing, her voice noticeably more high-pitched than usual.

He grunted back, putting a little more oomph into his thrusts, maintaining the steady pace of shoving his weeping cock deep into her cunt and pulling it back only to shove it back even harder. He bottomed out a few times, sending a convulsive shudder through her whole body each time. But she only gripped him harder, moaned a little louder.

"You like callin' me that, huh?" His husky, breathless voice filled her ear. "Y'like it when _I_ call ya that."

She nodded fervently, mouth still agape as she tried to process the new rush of pleasure pulsing through her core as Daryl shoved his cock into her over and over and his low growl of a voice nearly brought her to climax right then and there. She couldn't take a full breath because she kept gasping in ecstasy. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she felt the tiny starbursts of sensation beginning to explode just behind her clit every time it gained friction from Daryl's pubic bone and his cock made contact with her G-spot at the same time.

"Y- _yeah_ – I like it," she panted, a light squeal escaping her lips. "I – _yes_ , _ah_ , I missed your cock, babe."

This made him buck his hips into her harder, shove his cock even deeper inside her, and grunt through gritted teeth all at the same time. His breath was hot and shuddery on her neck, and she could feel his cock throbbing and swelling inside her soaking cunt.

" _Shit_ , woman, yer gonna make me come talkin' like that," his voice rumbled beside her ear.

Then his lips were on her neck, tongue flicking out to taste the tiny beads of sweat, planting a trail of feverish, hungry kisses up to her earlobe. She shivered and the sensations grew more intense between her legs, behind her clit, around his thick cock.

His lips lifted away from her skin and then she heard him breathe out, "Whose pussy is that, baby?" He accentuated his question with a rough thrust up into her, barely interrupting the steady pace of his dick pounding her tight cunt.

Despite the haze of ecstasy floating through her brain, Beth smiled and moaned back, " _Yours_ , baby – that's your pussy – _oh-h_ , fuck, don't stop!" She couldn't manage any more words because she was inhaling sharply, her cunt clenching around his throbbing cock as he rammed into that spot even harder.

But she could feel how much it had turned Daryl on from the way he twitched and swelled impossibly harder inside of her. She moaned again as his pace grew more frenzied, more voracious. His breathing was coming in shorter gasps, and so was hers. She felt his lips on her neck again, but only briefly. The tension behind the wall that his cock kept ramming into was reaching its breaking point, and she knew the bubble was dangerously close to bursting.

Then he was breathing out beside her ear, his voice barely more than a husky growl, "Hearin' you beg fer this cock makes me wanna _fuck_ you till ya can't _walk_."

She shivered again and suddenly, it was there. The edge disappeared and she was quickly tumbling over, his rumbling voice echoing in her ears and his thick cock hitting her G-spot repeatedly and intently. The bubble finally burst and sent those exploding starbursts travelling all throughout her core, down her legs. Daryl could feel her cunt contracting around his dick, but he didn't stop or interrupt his pace. He groaned loudly and she could hear the triumphant smile on his face.

"Oh – _Jesus_ , babe, I'm coming, _I'm coming_ ," Beth gasped out, gripping him tightly and roughly pulling his head down until his face was buried in her neck. She felt the leather of his vest and the cotton of his shirt against her bare chest and stomach.

"I can tell, babe – _shit_ , I'm about ta, too," he mumbled against her skin, pausing to kiss her neck as his pace sped up. Harder. Faster. Rougher.

She moaned, wave after wave of her orgasm washing over her continuously, just as relentless as Daryl's throbbing cock.

"Say my name," he gasped desperately. Quietly pleading.

"Oh-h, _Daryl_ ," Beth moaned out loudly, unabashedly, completely engulfed in her fleeting orgasm and Daryl's hot breath on her skin. She'd do anything he asked of her right now. She needed to feel his cock quiver and release inside her, needed to feel that long breath of relief escape from his chest.

And then it did, suddenly and intensely, with one last purposeful thrust up into her quivering, pulsing cunt.

"Fuck, _Rosie_ …!" His voice came out strained and breathless, the words barely dripping from his parted lips like hot molasses, and she felt his stiff cock go completely rigid for a split-second before twitching and beginning to wilt. She could hear him tipping over the edge, riding his own waves of orgasmic pleasure, in the raggedy half-breaths he was taking.

Her haze of ecstasy quickly faded as her brain registered what he'd said… _Rosie_.

Not babe. Not baby. Not Beth. _Rosie_.

The tail ends of their orgasms ran their course, leaving Beth and Daryl embraced in a sweaty, shaky mess in the back of the Explorer. She felt him softly kissing her neck in a show of post-coital affection, content humming coming from his throat. But her heartbeat wasn't slowing to a regular pace.

A pang of guilt shot through her gut. The relief from finally getting to have sex again was terribly short-lived.

 _Fuck,_ she thought, fighting back tears that wanted to pool in her eyes as Daryl's chin hair tickled her neck and his lips left tiny, damp kisses. _Why couldn't we have just stuck with 'babe'?_

* * *

The guilt didn't go away. It didn't even fade. It just intensified. Grew heavier and settled in its usual spot at the pit of Beth's stomach.

She hid it well, embracing Daryl and giggling into his neck as they helped fix each other's clothing. Kissing him softly, deeply. Ignoring the ache. Letting her fingers intertwine with his when they walked away from the truck, a case of water in his free hand and a case of beer in hers. Staying close to his side as they trekked through the dense undergrowth and trees. Laughing softly along with him when he pointed out that Dwight and Sherry undoubtedly knew exactly what they'd _really_ been up to. Stealing another long kiss before they returned to camp. Hiding the bright red blush in her cheeks and the flushed skin of her face when Dwight and Sherry laughed and made a joke about how Daryl "looked like he definitely got his _exercise_."

The sky had gotten darker while they were gone, and the rest of the lights around the campsite were turned on. The fire was bright and hot, flames licking up toward the sky. Dwight and Daryl restocked the cooler with the new cases of water and beer, and soon after that, they were offering Beth a slightly cold can. She eagerly accepted, desperate for any possible remedy to the aching in her gut. Not to mention, she thought a little liquid courage might help her play _and_ sing better in front of two new people – who she inexplicably wanted to impress. Surely the combination of alcohol, music, and reassurance from new friends would help ease her inner pain. Or she could at least try.

Malachi was still running around, playing with bugs and generally being a messy little kid, until he saw Beth picking up her guitar and taking a seat with all the other adults around the fire. Then he joined them, climbing up onto the log and sitting down between Beth and Daryl. Sherry sipped a water and sat close to Dwight, who was sipping his beer, and Daryl was relaxing with his own can of beer in hand, other arm thrown around his son's shoulders.

Beth quickly swigged down about half her beer before she set it aside and placed her fingers over the frets of the guitar in her lap. She glanced around for the pick that had been tucked behind the strings and spotted it sitting on the log, on the other side of Daryl.

"Could you hand me that pick, babe?" She asked, gesturing to it and meeting Daryl's eyes. It was too easy to slip into the habit of using pet names regularly. But she also kind of liked the way his eyes lit up with faint surprise whenever she said it.

He smirked and grabbed the pick from beside him, handing it over to her. Their fingers brushed across each other and another jolt of fresh guilt churned her stomach when she saw the wistful gaze in his eyes. And his slightly flushed cheeks. All _her_ doing.

She quickly looked away, back down to her guitar and the pick squeezed between her fingertips, and casually adjusted the tuner knobs while Dwight and Sherry joked with Daryl. Mal sat beside her, fidgeting in his seat and waiting patiently for her to start playing.

"Any requests?" She asked as soon as she was satisfied with the tune of each string, looking pointedly to Mal and raising her eyebrows expectantly.

The toddler grinned and his blue eyes got big. "Oh, oh – um can you, can you play the _Moana_ song?"

Beth and the others chuckled but she quickly nodded, even though she didn't actually know the song. Well, she knew it, but she'd never tried to play it on any kind of instrument, let alone a guitar. It seemed simple enough, though, so she thought about it for a few seconds and decided on the finger placement over the frets, giving a few experimental strums with the pick and listening to the sound echo out around them. It bounced off the trees and sent a chill down her back.

She gave Mal another smile and said, "How'd I know you'd ask fer that?" He grinned back. She cleared her throat and concentrated on her fingers and the frets as she played and began to sing, trying not to focus on the two new sets of eyes watching her.

No more than three lines into the song and everyone was singing along happily. A wide smile formed on Beth's face as she played and led everyone in song, and Mal clapped and sang along with excitement between her and Daryl, watching with amazement as she performed one of his favorite Disney songs. The fire flickered between them, and her face grew hot from the warmth and all the attention. But she gradually grew comfortable, and every other verse, she would glance over and catch Daryl's eye and see the light smirk playing across his lips as he watched her and mouthed along to some of the words between sips of beer.

After that, she played a few more Disney songs for Mal. He jumped up from the log and danced happily around the fire, bringing laughter and encouraging claps from the other adults. Beth grinned and played songs from _The Lion King_ , _The Little Mermaid_ , and _Beauty and the Beast_. The toddler was full of way too much energy, as usual, but he was quickly dancing it out. During a song from _Frozen_ , Sherry got up from her log and grabbed Mal's hands to dance around with him, their laughter joining the music and filling the small clearing. He giggled until he was completely breathless when she picked him up and spun him around in her arms as the song ended.

Beth paused and took a break to swig down some more beer, letting her singing voice rest for a few moments. Mal seemed to need the break, too, as he stumbled around like a drunken child, still giggling breathlessly. Sherry applauded Beth's performance, laughing again and plopping down on the log next to Dwight. He wrapped an arm around her, laughing with her and leaning in to steal a kiss.

"Dad, can – can I do s'mores again?" Mal asked, standing in front of Daryl and looking up at him with big, blue eyes.

Daryl chuckled and shook his head, taking a sip of beer before replying, "I think the _last_ thing you need tonight is more sugar."

Mal frowned. "But, Dad – "

"We're leavin' tomorrow, might as well let 'im live it up while we're here," Dwight commented.

Daryl rolled his eyes and gave Dwight a look that said " _thanks a lot_." Mal nodded in agreement, smiling up at his dad expectantly.

"Alright, fine – you can have _two_ s'mores," he gave in, raising his hand and showing Mal two fingers. "But y'gotta ask politely first."

Mal paused, then quickly said, "Pwease?"

Daryl nodded and Beth chuckled from where she sat, watching. Sherry agreed that she could go for a s'more or two and got up to begin gathering the stuff they needed to make them, and Mal quickly volunteered to help. Dwight got up and helped them both while Daryl moved over to the cooler to grab fresh beers for himself, Dwight, and Beth. When he sat back down and popped open his can, he waited for Beth to finish swigging down the last of her first beer before handing her the new one, watching her crunch the empty can in her hand and toss it into the fire.

She heard him chuckle lightly as she popped open the new beer, colder than the last, and then he commented, "Throwin' 'em back tonight, huh?"

She blushed and shrugged, setting the beer aside and placing her fingers back in position over the guitar strings. She smirked sheepishly and muttered, "Just tryin' to enjoy our last night here."

Daryl nodded and swigged his beer in silent agreement. Then he asked a little louder, "Whatcha gonna play now?"

"Know any country? Or somethin' that ain't Disney," Dwight joked from beside the fire, stepping back and letting Sherry and Mal begin roasting their first marshmallows.

Beth chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, I know some country." She placed her fingers over the frets as a song popped into her head, then started strumming with the pick. She spoke a little louder over the music of the guitar, a smile forming on her mouth, "Let's see if y'all remember _this_ one."

The music got louder, echoing off the trees, and everyone had gone quiet as they watched her play and listened, smiles growing on their faces. Daryl began tapping his foot and nodding along, taking a sip of his beer. Beth paused before she began singing and looked around at each of them, eyebrows raised expectantly as she strummed.

Sherry's brow was furrowed as she visibly racked her brain to identify the song, but Dwight's eyes lit up and he called out, "Oh – Alan Jackson?"

Beth grinned and nodded. "Yeah!"

Expressions of realization came upon each of their faces collectively, and then Beth began to sing. " _Two young people, without a thing. Say some vows an' spread their wings – and settle with just what they need. Livin' on love. She don't care 'bout what's in style, she just likes the way he smiles…_ "

The song brought back memories of her momma and daddy on the farm. She could faintly recall Hershel singing the song to Annette out on the back porch during warm summer nights. Years ago, when Beth was little and her family was normal.

Now, she opened her eyes and looked over to meet Daryl's gaze as she continued to sing, afraid she'd get teary-eyed if she let herself think about her parents too long. His eyes were focused on her, beer gripped in his hand as he watched her play and a faint smirk ghosted across his lips. She strummed with a little more intent, making the chords ring out loudly around them.

Beth's eyes didn't drift away from his as her voice paused after the bridge, then she sang the first chorus, " _It sounds simple – that's what yer thinkin'. But_ _ **love**_ _can wa-alk through fire without blinkin'! It doesn't take much, when you get enough. Just livin' on love – buyin' on ti-ime. Without somebody, nothin' ain't worth a dime…_ "

She thought she saw him blushing lightly but she quickly looked away, down at the guitar to pay attention to the chords she was playing – even though she didn't need to. She grinned and kept singing, suppressing a giggle beneath the second verse.

When she finished the song, Daryl was accepting a s'more from Mal, but Dwight and Sherry clapped like they'd just watched a show. Beth laughed and did a fake half-bow over her guitar. She paused just long enough to take a swig of beer before placing her fingers back over the frets and strumming out the tune to another song. This one was newer, and she knew the others probably wouldn't be able to name the artist quite as quickly as they'd been able to identify Alan Jackson. But she looked up and gave Daryl a teasing smirk as she played, and he gazed back quizzically until she started singing.

" _Drivin' through town, just my boy and me. With a happy meal in his booster seat,_ " she began, smile growing wider when she saw a flicker of recognition on Daryl's face. He began shaking his head and smiling bashfully, turning away from her gaze to focus on helping Mal with his messy s'more.

Dwight seemed to know the song well, because he began to sing along with her during the chorus, " _I've been watchin' you, Dad, ain't that cool? I'm your buckaroo, I wanna be like you! An' eat all my food, and grow as tall as you are. We got cowboy boots and camo pants – yeah, we're just alike, hey, ain't we, Dad?_ "

Their voices joined together and Mal began laughing and dancing along happily, still holding half of a s'more tightly in his little hands. Daryl was suppressing his own laughter, finally looking over to shoot Beth a " _this song, really?_ " look as she continued to sing unabashedly. Small giggles escaped her mouth during a couple of lines in the song, and when she finished it, she took a long swig of beer as everyone applauded.

"Good song," Daryl commented, smirking.

"Alright, somethin' a little older this time," Beth announced, placing her fingers over the frets and strumming out the beginning of another tune. The others quickly quieted down. Mal paused, focused on stuffing the rest of his s'more into his mouth so he could grab the new marshmallow being offered to him by Sherry.

Beth's voice came out softer this time, matching the tone of the song she was playing. " _Every man has a right to live. Love is all that we have to give. Together we struggle by our will to survive. And together we fight, just ta stay alive…_ "

This had been one of her daddy's favorite songs, too. Though it had always been sad to her. Something had changed between now and the last time she'd played it for him. She couldn't explain it, but the song was more comforting now – less tragic. More hopeful. Maybe she was starting to see why her daddy had loved it so much. The heaviness in her gut lifted just the slightest, and the words poured out of her, eyes drifting shut as she pretended, for just a brief moment, that he was sitting across from her, listening to her play. Tapping his foot along and smiling softly, like he always did.

" _Struggling man has got ta move. Struggling man, no time ta lose… I'm a strugglin' man. An' I gotta move on…_ "

She opened her eyes as the last notes echoed around her and saw everyone watching her intently. Thankfully, she didn't feel like crying this time. There were no tears fighting to pool in her eyes. It was just… _nice_. Then Daryl smiled and Mal over-excitedly clapped, and Beth laughed.

"Sorry, that was a downer – so here's _Africa_ by Toto," she grinned, immediately jumping into strumming out the first few chords of the familiar 80s song. Dwight and Sherry laughed loudly and Daryl shook his head, rolling his eyes with a playful half-smile on his face.

She went on with singing the song, belting it out over-dramatically while Sherry joined in. After a verse and a chorus, Dwight joined in, too, raising his beer in tribute to the music. Daryl did the same, flashing Beth a flirtatious smirk. She strummed the chords a little harder, a little louder, and let herself forget about everything else. Just for a moment, while she sang about the rains down in Africa.

It felt like only a few minutes to Beth, but it had to have been at least an hour or more that she was sitting by the fire, playing her guitar and singing for everyone. She would grin when they joined in with her, and would blush when Daryl gave her _that_ look. Mal didn't seem to care that he'd already had his allowance of s'mores for the night because he quickly became preoccupied with dancing and singing along where he could. Daryl and Dwight began chain-smoking cigarettes alongside drinking their beers. And by the time her throat was starting to become hoarse from singing, and her fingers were aching from the rough strings, Beth had downed about three beers herself, and she was already halfway through her fourth. She wasn't sure if it was the music or the alcohol, but the aching was subsiding. At least for the time being.

Dwight asked if he could play around with the guitar and she happily handed it over, eager for a rest. He handled it carefully and took a few minutes to get reacquainted with the frets and strings. But it turned out that he knew how to play decently well. Though Daryl was quick to point out that he was nowhere _near_ as good as "Rosie." Beth nudged Daryl playfully at that, but Dwight only laughed and agreed. He played a couple of very simple Beatles songs, followed by a Johnny Cash song at Sherry's request. All the while, Beth worked on finishing her fourth beer and moving on to her fifth, and Mal was squirming to climb down from where he sat on the log, squeezed between his dad and Beth.

Sherry suggested they lay out the blankets again and enjoy their last night of open sky and stargazing, to which everyone agreed. While Beth took the guitar back and returned it to the inside of her and Daryl's tent, Dwight retrieved a folded-up, bright blue tarp from his big bag of camping supplies and laid it out on the ground, on the side of the fire that wasn't occupied by logs. It put another protective layer between them and the cold, muddy ground. Then Mal helped Sherry lay out blankets, careful to take off their muddy shoes and keep the upper side of the blankets clean. Meanwhile, Daryl pulled cold beers from the cooler for Beth, Dwight, and himself, as well as a juice box for Mal – sugar-free.

They all wound up taking off their shoes and plopping down on the array of blankets laid out over the tarp, and the campfire cast a warm glow over them. Sherry shut off half the lights, like she had the previous night, to give them a better view of the stars. Mal sipped his juice box contentedly, sitting between Daryl and Sherry, and listened to more stories about mythology, the constellations, and the bright planets flickering down at them from above. Beth cuddled up close on the other side of Daryl, their hands resting together on the blanket between them while they sipped beers and gazed up at the sky. Dwight sat on the other side of Sherry, occasionally pointing up and adding in a little tidbit or "fact" of his own. He was good at making Mal laugh with his goofy comments, and Beth had to admit that she found herself laughing more often than not, too. Although the beer _was_ kind of going to her head by this point.

She, Daryl, and Dwight were a beer-and-a-half into stargazing when Sherry began yawning more often, though Malachi was showing no signs of tiring yet. The toddler was still sprinting to the edge of the woods every time he needed to take a bathroom break, despite Daryl's scolding and attempts to catch up with him. Now, Daryl looked like he was beginning to regret allowing two s'mores, and Dwight had started to look as exhausted as Sherry sounded. Their conversation dwindled down to a quiet lull, but Mal was still pointing up at the stars, identifying shapes and planets.

"Hey, Mal, you wanna do some shadow puppets in the tent?" Sherry suggested, sitting up and gesturing toward her and Dwight's tent.

Mal glanced over at Daryl, then nodded eagerly. "Um, yeah! Is – are we goin' ta Dad an' Rosie's tent?"

Dwight and Daryl exchanged a look and then Dwight sat up, too. "How 'bout a sleepover in me an' Honey's tent?"

Mal grinned. "Yeah! Dad – "

Daryl replied before the question had come out, "Yeah, bud, go ahead. You think you can be a big boy an' sleep in their tent tonight?"

The toddler nodded fervently, jumping to his feet and rushing to shove his feet into shoes. "Can – can I get my sleepin' bag?!"

Sherry laughed and stood up, stretching her arms up toward the sky before heading to slip on her own shoes and grab Mal's hand. "Yeah, let's go get it."

Dwight was slipping on his shoes, but Daryl and Beth remained where they sat, watching the others. Beth looked over at Daryl with a slightly quizzical expression, but he just smirked at her and nodded.

When Sherry and Mal had disappeared inside the tent to get Mal's sleeping bag, Dwight leaned over to mutter to Daryl, "You owe me fer this one."

Daryl chuckled and shook his head. "Hey, yer woman volunteered – wasn't my idea."

Dwight scoffed, but he was smiling playfully the whole time. "Yeah, well me an' her are gonna have a talk. Once we got a baby of our own, you got a whole night a babysittin' duties."

The men shared another laugh before Dwight nodded and muttered, "Alright, y'all, 'night now. Don't do nothin' I wouldn't do."

As he walked away, Daryl called quietly after him, "Ya don't really set the bar too high in the first place, do ya?"

Beth could hear Dwight laughing as he disappeared inside of his and Sherry's tent, and a few seconds later, Mal and Sherry were emerging from the other tent. Sherry carried the toddler's half-rolled sleeping bag in her arms, guiding Mal toward the tent that Dwight had just slipped into.

"'Night, Dad! 'Night, Rosie!" Mal waved, grinning at them as he quickly ran off to get inside of the tent. Dwight was already shining a flashlight through the small opening in the flaps, and Mal laughed loudly as soon as he disappeared behind the flaps.

Sherry waved back at them as well, smiling over her shoulder. "Goodnight, guys – don't have _too_ much fun."

She put playful emphasis on her last few words, then laughed as she headed into the tent behind Mal, with Beth and Daryl waving after her and laughing lightly while they called out, "'Night!"

Then they were alone. It had happened quicker than Beth imagined. She'd expected another night of trying to lull Mal to sleep on the blankets, or trying to _keep_ him asleep in the tent. She'd also expected her and Daryl's little adventure to the truck to be the only _alone_ time they would get on the trip, especially considering they'd be leaving in about twelve hours. But here they were… sitting together on the blankets under the bright, twinkling stars, with the warm glow of the fire washing over them. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire, the singing crickets around them, and the muffled sounds of a child's laughter joined by Dwight's and Sherry's from inside their tent.

Beth looked over at Daryl and arched an eyebrow, suppressing a smile as she quietly asked, "Well, ain't _this_ awfully convenient…" She took a sip of her beer, unsure why her heart had started beating a little faster. Why did she suddenly feel anxious?

Daryl grunted and turned his face away to scoot over until he was in the middle of the blankets, then looked back at her and patted the spot beside him. Beth's heart fluttered and she quickly scooted over to join him, crisscrossing her legs in front of her to imitate how he was sitting. He smirked and held his can of beer out between them. She raised her own and they clicked the aluminum together, then took simultaneous swigs. She ended up draining the last few drops of hers. Then she lowered it to see Daryl crushing his own empty can and gesturing to the cooler.

"Need another?" He offered.

She nodded and he tossed his can into the fire, then got up and went to the cooler for new beers. She tossed her own can into the fire as well, and watched him return with two wet beer cans in his hands.

"So – what, you made a deal with Dwight or somethin'?" She asked, reaching out and taking the beer he was holding out to her.

He plopped down beside her and popped open the tab on his can, shaking his head. Beth kept her eyes on him, popping open the tab of her own beer and taking a small sip.

"Nah, nothin' like that," he muttered right before taking a long swig of cold beer.

"Then what?" She prodded, smiling and leaning just a little closer toward him.

"Like he said, it was Sherry's idea," Daryl mumbled, inspecting the condensation on his can. "Guess she thought we should get a night alone out here."

Beth raised her eyebrows and giggled softly. "Huh – okay. Well, that's nice of 'em."

He nodded and finally turned his head to meet her gaze, immediately letting a smirk form. "Yeah, s'pose it is."

She tilted her head to the side and flitted her eyes up and down him, from his shaggy hair down to his dark socks and back up to his bloodshot eyes. The smirk remained on his lips as she gave him a flirtatious half-smile and joked, "So… you wanna make out or somethin'?"

He laughed and quickly took a sip of beer, shaking his head. But the fire and remaining lights around them were bright enough that she could see the light blush on his cheeks. Then he suddenly set his beer down and reached over to grab her arm and pull her over to him. She yelped softly in surprise and giggled as she struggled to set her nearly full can down without spilling it, then she wrapped her other arm around his shoulder and allowed him to pull her in against his broad chest.

His mouth crashed into hers, all chapped lips, beer, and cigarette smoke. They kissed hungrily at first, a little sloppy. Then it became more even-paced and less frantic. They relaxed into each other, reveling in the moment and enjoying the silence and solitude. Sure, they had to be mindful of Mal coming out of the tent for a bathroom break or something. But they could retreat to their own tent soon.

She felt a tingle between her legs at the thought and broke their kiss before it became _too_ intense. He seemed to share the sentiment because he didn't object, and she saw him squirming awkwardly as he tried to readjust himself. She held back a giggle and took another swig of beer before stretching her legs out and lying back on the blanket.

Daryl followed her lead, lying back with her, and she quickly reached out to grasp his rough hand. It was cold to the touch, so she wrapped her own hand around it tightly. " _Oh_ – yer hands are cold."

He grunted in response, squeezing her hand back lightly. "Sorry. Gotta warm 'em up for me."

She smiled and glanced over at him. "My grandma used ta say, 'cold hands, warm heart.' Maybe it's just yer extra warm heart."

He chuckled softly. His fingers quickly found the spaces between hers and filled them habitually. Then they were lying close together on their backs, in the middle of the blanket, alone beneath the wide open, star-speckled sky. The air was getting chillier as the night grew later, but the fire was still plenty warm beside them, even as it slowly receded into itself from lack of being recently stoked. Daryl's hand was gradually getting warmer in hers.

""S too bad we gotta leave tomorrow," Beth mumbled, staring up at the stars from beneath heavy eyelids. "What time were you plannin' on heading out?"

Daryl grunted – an agreement. Then replied, "Think Sherry said somethin' about havin' ta get back by ten. She's gotta help run the daycare at their church. So – prob'ly get on the road by seven."

Beth nodded and sighed. She gave Daryl's hand a light squeeze and said softly, "I kinda don't _ever_ wanna go back."

" _Mm_ , me too," he rumbled. "Always wanted a cabin up here somewhere… Maybe someday – when I can afford it."

The guilt ached in her gut, reminding her it was still there, and she swallowed hard when she felt him squeeze her hand back. The beer was still swimming around her head, bringing thoughts to the surface that she might normally dismiss. Like: _tell him tell him tell him_. They weren't so easily silenced after five or six drinks. And the comfort brought about by the fire and the dark sky above wasn't helping to deter her, either.

But how many more times could she let him call her "Rosie" during their most intimate moments before she _had_ to correct him? Had to tell him the truth? He would already be furious – he'd feel foolish. _She_ would _make_ him feel foolish. Saying a fake name during sex. How stupid would _she_ feel in his position? Awfully stupid. And that would just be the tip of the iceberg when it came to Daryl's reaction. Was it already too late?

Or was this the right time she'd been waiting for? If she waited too long, wouldn't it be like she had planned to manipulate him the whole time? It would be too difficult to convince him otherwise, by that point.

"Whatcha get so quiet for?" His low voice caught her attention and she turned her head to look over at him. He was watching her, gazing at her with that sleepy, wistful glaze in his eyes. A tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth – like he was happy just _being_ with her.

 _I'm the devil,_ she thought. A painful jolt of guilt spread through her stomach.

But she smiled back weakly, letting the alcohol sweep away her negative thoughts for a moment. "Nothin'," she mumbled. "Just thinkin' – about that cabin. It sounds nice. Maybe we could run away up here. Live off the land."

He chuckled softly and it rang through her bones. Her smile became genuine even though she wasn't entirely joking. He turned his head to gaze up at the sky again and squeezed her hand.

"Right. I wish," he rumbled. "Too bad there ain't no schools up here."

Her smile faded and she blinked. "Homeschooling," she suggested softly.

He grunted. "Ever met a homeschool kid? They're always _weird_. Poor kid's already weird, he'll have a hard enough time figurin' out all those stupid social rules."

Beth shrugged, frowning. "Yeah. I s'pose yer right."

She saw Daryl smirk again, continuing to look up at the stars as a group of thick clouds passed over them, but he didn't say anything. She bit down on her lower lip and turned her head to look up, too, watching the clouds slowly float through the dark sky. They were puffy and white, unlike the dark clouds that had been blocking the sun for most of the day. Every now and then, she could see an ember from the fire catch on a breeze and float through the air over them, extinguishing and disappearing into the darkness.

 _The right time,_ she thought. Echoing through her head, repeating over and over. _The right time. The right time… Now or never?_

She briefly glanced over to see the unmistakable light of a flashlight illuminated against the inside of Sherry and Dwight's tent, with several hands wiggling their fingers and making recognizable shapes with the large shadows. Mal's laughter had grown quieter and less frequent, but she could still hear them playing and enjoying themselves. Then she turned her head to gaze at Daryl again. He was still staring thoughtfully up at the sky, eyelids drooping.

"Babe," Beth said softly, voice barely coming out louder than a whisper. A knot was forming in her throat but there was a burst of courage blooming somewhere near the middle of her chest and she _had_ to go with it. Before the moment passed. Before she lost her chance.

Daryl heard her and his head immediately turned to look over and meet her eyes. He smirked faintly at the pet name and responded, " _Hmm_?"

Her spine tensed but she formed the words with ease, pushing them out with the slightest hint of self-assurance. "I, um… Can I tell you somethin'?"

His brow furrowed slightly and he blinked, and she could see in his eyes that he thought it would be something really bad. Did he have any idea just how bad it was, though? _Fuck_. How was she supposed to drop _that_ on him? The flicker of worry in his eyes was already making her stomach turn.

He squeezed her hand and gave a chaste nod. "What – yeah, but like… what?"

She tried not to let the frown appear on her face. Her heart was thumping harder inside her chest, hammering against her breastbone like it was trying to escape. She licked her lips and swallowed past the painful knot in her throat again.

Daryl's eyes narrowed as he studied her, waiting for a response – preparing himself for the worst.

She rearranged the words inside her head at least a dozen times, switched out a few sentences, cut even more out entirely. Her courage was waning and she was, in _no_ way, prepared to handle the backlash that would come from Daryl knowing the whole truth. The look on his face alone was enough to frighten her into aborting her plan. So, at the last minute, she opted for the easier route.

"I, um," she started weakly, pausing and forcing her voice to come out stronger and clearer. "I never planned on _stayin'_ in New York. _Ever_. I was gonna leave – the country. I wanted a new beginning. _Brand_ new. And… I _still_ want that."

She paused as his frown deepened and his face fell. Her heart thumped harder. Her stomach churned angrily. Was it a play of the light or was she seeing the color begin to drain from his cheeks?

 _Fuck_ , she thought. _Fuck fuck fuck, I can't do this. I can't hurt him. I can't_ _ **lose**_ _him._

He parted his lips like he was about to say something, but she quickly continued before he could, "But I don't wanna leave without you an' Mal. I – I want you t'come _with_ me. I want us all ta be together…"

Her voice trailed off and she didn't trust herself to say any more. To her immense relief, his frown slowly turned up into a faint smile and the color returned to his cheeks.

"Like where?" He asked quietly, voice cracking at the end. His eyes were searching her face. Admiring.

Her muscles stopped tensing and she let out the breath she'd been subconsciously holding in anticipation of his reaction. She couldn't help but to feel like she'd dodged a bullet – taking the easy way out instead of utilizing her best opportunity presented so far. Would she regret this later?

She shrugged sheepishly, eyes flicking away from his. "I'ono. Haven't decided yet."

"Thought that was just – messin' around last night," he rumbled. "Didn't think you were bein' serious."

She smirked and met his gaze again to find a wistful smile on his face. "Yeah, well – I didn't know how ta tell you. I was afraid you wouldn't wanna leave. Or you'd think I wanted ta leave _without_ you. 'Cause I don't… I really, _really_ don't." She tried to add a light chuckle at the end, but it came out more forced than intended. Stiff, due to the quickly fleeting courage.

He squeezed her hand tighter than before and said, "Haven't decided where ya wanna go yet, huh?"

Beth chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully for a long moment. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't actually up to her – that her life was resting in someone else's hands. What came out was, "Well, I – have a family friend that's workin' on getting my passport an' stuff arranged under the radar. So I can get outta here without… anybody tryin' ta give me _trouble_. And then it's just a case of lettin' Jesus tell me where I should go."

Yes, she knew how it sounded, and that's exactly why she'd worded it that way. Though she immediately regretted it. That goddamn beer swimming around in her head again, making her think _bad_ ideas were actually _good_ ideas. Making the half-truths pour from her mouth uncontrollably. Without realizing it, lying had become second nature. Her nerves switching to default, avoiding the harsh honesty that would bring nothing but pain and disappointment and, possibly, tears.

Daryl grunted. " _Jesus_ , huh? Well, hope ol' homeboy picks someplace warm an' sunny. Beachside, preferably. With good schools."

 _Mom and Dad failed. They raised a no-good, selfish, lying manipulator,_ she thought, a pang of guilt shooting through her stomach and travelling all the way up her spine. _I really am_ _ **evil**_ _._

Despite her guilt-ridden conscious, she couldn't bring herself to tell him the _whole_ truth – or to clarify that she didn't mean the Jesus from the crucifix. It was too late now. She'd told him everything that was safe to tell him, just short of admitting that she was wanted by the police.

She put on a half-smile and squeezed his hand tightly, staring into his eyes with more intensity than he was probably expecting, and asked tentatively, "So – you want to? You and Mal will leave with me…?"

A hopeful and expectant expression took over her face, and Daryl smirked. He squeezed her hand back reassuringly and replied, "Well, it don't sound like a half-bad idea. But let's get through the holidays first an' then go from there… How's that sound?"

In all honesty, Beth hadn't expected anything _close_ to a yes. So this was more than a success in her eyes. She didn't need to ask _why_ he wanted to wait to decide – but she _did_ need to do some serious praying in hopes that everything would work itself out by the time Jesus told her it was time to go. In hopes that the right time would finally present itself.

Nevertheless, the corners of her mouth lifted up in a broad smile and she nodded, heart slowing in her chest. The tighter he squeezed her hand, the calmer she felt. And the urges were finally quieting down – or the beer was just making her too sleepy to focus on them anymore.

She nodded, still smiling, and said, "Sounds good."

Then she scooted her body over closer to his, closing the miniscule distance between them until their sides were pressed close together and their hands were still clasped tightly, resting on Daryl's stomach. Beth leaned her head against his shoulder and they gazed up at the stars together, breathing synchronizing and heartbeats steadying. She rolled over onto her side and threw a leg over both his legs, placing her other arm over his middle with her head still on his shoulder. She breathed in his scent, relishing in the warmth and sturdiness of his body against hers. She listened to the faint beating of his heart in one ear, and the crackling of the dying fire in the other.

Her eyelids were growing heavier. It didn't help that Daryl resituated to get more comfortable and wrap his arm around her, holding her close to his side and bringing his other hand up to rest on his stomach and tightly hold hers. She heard a soft hum of contentment come from his throat as they settled in, relaxing on the blankets with the fire's warmth bathing them.

 _He has to know,_ that tiny voice piped up at the back of her head. But her sleepy mind argued back, _When the time is right._ _ **Not**_ _tonight. He's so happy and content and comfortable. Let him feel as happy as he makes_ _ **you**_ _feel. Don't_ _ **ruin**_ _it by telling him you're a fucking fake…_

 _You have to wait until the hook is sunk in. Or else he'll swim far, far away, and you'll never see him again._

Her eyelids had fallen shut and her nose was nuzzled into Daryl's warm neck, breathing him in as everything became a little foggier around her. The sounds of Sherry, Dwight, and Mal had faded away. It was just Beth and Daryl. And the fire and the stars. And all the things she wasn't telling him.

All the ghosts of her past that constantly travelled along on her back.

Her mind was foggy, cluttered, hazy. But there was _something_ floating around at the front, begging to be let out. She'd thought about it and pushed it back so many times already. And now, with the option of "running away" with this incredible man laying more real than ever before her, that _something_ was making its reappearance.

It had teased its arrival on her tongue on countless occasions: Watching Daryl smile. Hearing his laugh. Looking into his eyes and seeing something she _couldn't_ name, but that she _could_ recognize. That feeling that swelled up in her chest whenever he was around. That constant fluttering in her stomach. The empty ache she felt at the mere _thought_ of losing him. That impossible urge to pull down the heavens and wrap them in a bow just to see if it would make him a little happier. The desire to cover her hands over all his scars and cracks and crevices and fill them with any ounce of _good_ she might have left in her soul…

She _knew_ what that was. She might be young, a little inexperienced and naïve, with a too-short relationship rap sheet. But she knew _this_ much. Knew it in the pit of her _soul_. She'd wanted to say it. So fucking _badly_. She'd resisted, held back. Pushed against it, denied it a few times. But there was no use now. She was way too far gone. They _both_ were. The whole situation had spiraled completely out of control and – honestly? Beth had _no_ desire to contain it.

Her voice pushed up and out of her throat without her complete consent. It was breathy, nothing more than a whisper inches away from Daryl's ear, but she _knew_ he heard her because she felt his whole body tense up reflexively as soon as it came out.

"Daryl… I'm in love with you."

 _Jesus_ , that felt good. Something released from within her on the same breath that the words escaped on. Like she'd been holding it in for days, or weeks, afraid that speaking those stone-carved words would shatter the glass bubble that had formed around them. Saying it aloud also meant admitting it to herself, which she'd been putting off for far too long.

Then she felt his muscles unclench, heard a deep sigh leaving his mouth. He squeezed her hand in his, running his rough thumb over her knuckles. Her eyes remained shut and she tried to imagine what his expression looked like. But she was so weighed down with beer and exhaustion that she couldn't bother holding her breath or clenching her jaw in fear of a bad reaction. Of all the confessions teetering on the tip of her tongue, this was the _least_ dangerous to let slip out.

Her heart felt a little heavier when he took a long moment to respond, though, and she couldn't control that. For a second, she began to wonder if she _had_ said the wrong thing.

But then he grunted and rubbed his fingers across her knuckles again. His voice was a low, husky growl as he mumbled, "Yer jus' drunk… Take a nap, ya lush." He softly chuckled and squeezed her hand tightly.

Beth didn't have the energy to argue. Maybe she _was_ a little drunk. But not drunk enough to make proclamations that weren't true. That was way too much for her to try and explain at the moment, though, as her body relaxed and everything became a little foggier, a little more distant.

For a second, she wondered if Daryl didn't want to say it back because he really did think she was just saying it out of drunkenness – or if he just _didn't_ feel it yet. What if she had already fallen harder for him than he had for her? Or maybe she was just saying it _way_ too soon. But what was the difference between agreeing to run away together and saying "I love you"? Or was she just way too fucking naïve for her own good?

Her brain finally wore itself out with the internal battle, growing as tired as her voice had. She felt herself drifting off as she lay against Daryl, and she thought he might've been, too, because he'd become completely still and was breathing very steadily. But then everything faded away entirely. Sleep wrapped its familiar and comforting arms around her and welcomed her deep inside.

And then the dreams took over.

Beth found herself on the bank of the river she'd fished in with Daryl and the others. It was morning again, and the sky was dull and gray. She felt _anxious_ – she wasn't sure why. Something had to be done. She was right in the middle of finishing something very important, she could tell.

Then she spotted Daryl and Malachi. They were standing at the tree line, holding hands and looking at her expectantly. Daryl waved toward her. "C'mon, babe, we gotta go!" He called.

She ran over to join them, reached out to grab their hands and run to wherever they were going. She had no idea why they were running, or why they had to go. Maybe Dwight and Sherry were waiting for them? But as soon as she reached out her hands, Daryl and Mal both winced back, expressions of absolute disgust on their faces. She quickly looked down at her hands, confused as to why they seemed so repulsed.

Everything was normal, except that her hands and fingers were caked in mud. Beth stared down at them, baffled, wondering what she'd done to get so dirty. Had she been digging for nightcrawlers with Mal again?

" _Jesus_ – you can't touch us like that," Daryl growled. "Wash yer _fuckin'_ hands."

Without questioning it, and fearful of the angry tone in his voice, Beth turned around and rushed back to the bank of the river. She leaned down and dunked her hands into the cool, shallow water. Then she scrubbed and scrubbed, rubbing away the caked-on mud, scraping the dried soil from beneath her nails, out of her cuticles. She scrubbed vigorously, trying to hurry as she heard Daryl and Mal calling to her from the edge of the woods.

When she turned around, hands dripping wet and finally clean, she raced back over to join them with a triumphant smile on her face. But Daryl still looked angry, and for some reason, Mal began crying. Loudly.

Daryl fumed, his voice rising. "This some kinda _joke_ to you? If you _loved_ me, you wouldn't fuckin' _lie_ ta me!"

Beth stared back in bemusement, utterly confused. What had she lied about? Then she looked down at her hands. They were dirty. As if she'd never cleaned them to begin with. The soil was all over, mud caked under her nails, dirt blackening her skin. Her heart raced, her throat went dry. She wanted to cry, or to scream. Instead, she turned and ran back to the river, dunking her hands deep into the shallow water. She scrubbed again. Over and over and over.

She hadn't _lied_ – she just hadn't _tried_ hard enough. Maybe _that's_ why he'd been upset.

But every time her hands emerged, they were still covered in soil. The water did nothing, the rubbing and scrubbing had no effect whatsoever. And Daryl's voice was drifting farther away with every second. Mal's voice had faded out entirely. She turned to look over her shoulder and see that they'd disappeared. She was alone, on the bank of the river, trying desperately to scrub soil from her hands that was permanently embedded into her skin.

She grabbed a nearby rock, its surface rough and pebbly, and began scraping it against the tops of her hands like a scrubbing pad. The dirt didn't move. She felt the sharp pain on her knuckles, winced as her skin sliced open in various places. But when the cuts opened, they didn't clear away the dirt, or produce red blood.

It was dark, wet, thick mud that seeped from her open wounds. And no matter how hard she scrubbed, how much of her skin she sliced open with the rock, she couldn't make the soil disappear. Couldn't find a vein that ran with actual blood. The mud seeped out and covered her hands, dripped off her fingers and into the water. She felt the tears on her cheeks but she didn't know when she'd started crying.

She shut her eyes tightly and when they opened again, the river was gone. She looked down to find her hands still dirty, caked in mud, but the cuts were nonexistent, and the rock she'd been using was no longer there. She stood up, the ground beneath her dark and covered in lush, green undergrowth. Beth quickly realized she was deep in the woods of the Catskill Mountains – the same woods that she and Daryl had trekked through. It was dark, and she couldn't see anything but the faint outlines of countless trees.

"Beth! Babe! C'mon – this way!" Daryl's voice called out to her and her head snapped around, spotting a dim light far off behind her. She didn't find it odd that he'd called her by her real name, for some reason. She turned to face the light and began walking toward it, reaching her hands out to feel for obstacles. She could barely make out his blurry silhouette within the dim light, and it looked like she was nearly a mile away from reaching the edge of the woods. But she walked faster, following his voice, focusing on his outline and listening to the dead leaves and thick soil crunch and mush beneath her boots.

At first, she made progress. The light got closer, she was able to make out Daryl's hair and she could hear his voice growing louder, urging her on, waving toward her desperately. She walked faster, reaching out for him. But then her legs grew heavy. Her feet began sinking into the ground beneath her. The mud got softer and softer, wetter and thicker, until her feet weighed the same as two cinder blocks and began sinking down, down, down. She struggled through it, forced her ankles to lift, fought and strained against the weight. It felt like an eighteen-wheeler was strapped to her back.

She turned her head to look back and realized there actually _was_ something strapped to her back. It was her bag. Something in her knew that it was full of all the money and all the heirlooms. It felt like it weighed eighty pounds. She could see the barrel of the Beretta sticking out of the partially-open zipper. Something told her it was the gun – the gun was weighing her down more than anything.

Angrily, Beth yanked the bag off her back and tossed it into the dark woods. She listened to it fall, heard the loud clunk it made on the ground. And she was so much lighter. She lifted her feet, fought against the sinking mud and managed to somewhat lift herself out. She was almost back on solid ground. She looked ahead and saw Daryl – saw his face, his frantic expression. She heard him calling to her clearly. She could make out his words now.

"Babe – hurry! They're comin'!"

Her feet were sinking again. She looked back and found the bag strapped to her back. Like she'd never taken it off. The Beretta was still peeking out. She yanked it off again, chucked it as hard and as far into the woods as she could. And when she looked back again, she realized who "they" were.

The rest of the deep mountain woods had disappeared. Beth was no longer _in_ the Catskill Mountains. She wasn't even in New York. She was back in Georgia. On the farm. She was _home_.

The tree line she could see up ahead, where Daryl stood, still urging her to run toward him, was the same tree line she'd emerged from after running away from the police and the helicopter's spotlight. She could see a swarm of uniformed police officers – the same ones who'd tackled Glenn and Maggie to the ground – running after her, easily dodging trees and quickly catching up to her. Her heart began to race uncontrollably, breath coming in short, frantic gasps. She cried out but her voice didn't work.

Daryl's voice became clearer in her ears. But it was the only thing she could hear. "Babe – _babe_! Please, c'mon…"

She ran, urged her legs to work, fought with every ounce of strength she had against the thick mud that swallowed up her ankles. But it was no use. There was no running away.

And when she looked back to see how close the police were, she found the bag strapped to her back again. The barrel of the gun peeked out between the zipper. Her stomach dropped down to her feet and she stopped struggling.

 _It doesn't matter anyway,_ she thought hopelessly. _Daryl and I will never be able to be together, or be happy – so what's the point of being free? I'll never be able to run far enough away._

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** The dream sequence was specifically inspired by lyrics from Emily Kinney's song, "Same Mistakes":  
" _I've cleaned every bit of dirt from my nails_  
 _But the soil seeped into my blood_  
 _It doesn't matter how far I go_  
 _I can't seem to shake where I come from_ "

I am truly sorry for how ridiculously long these chapters have been getting. I know it gets overwhelming with so many words and so much information being presented at once, but I hope that you all understand (especially later on) that it's kind of necessary. However, I will be trying to get the chapters down to about half this length soon. Until then, I promise you it will all be worth it. Now that Rick is awake, things are about to start getting seriously interesting. Next week will probably be a Det. Grimes chapter.  
Also sorry if the story is boring you. You always have the option of not reading. If there are things you think I could be doing differently/better, please, let me know! I love constructive criticism, and hearing from my readers is one of the things that helps me learn how to be a better writer. However, I will tell you that there are big plans for this fic, and a lot of those plans consist of lots of build-up and A LOT of circling around the same questions before finding any answers. Just a warning ;) Keep in mind: we're seeing two different sides of the same story in this fic. But the answers will be well worth all the questions.  
Thank you for reading and thank you to those who take the time to review! Y'all are most of the reason I continue this story :)


	60. Detective Grimes IV

_**Detective Grimes IV**_

 _"all i wanna know  
_ _is a goddamned thing  
_ _not what's in the medicine"_

Rick awoke on Sunday morning confused and disoriented. It was, however, the most peaceful awakening he'd had since falling into a coma. This time, there were no nurses crowded around him and yelling, and there was no Dr. Edwards or Lori or Carl waiting at his bedside to lecture him on healing. There was just the sterile white room, the tacky Halloween decorations, and the chorus of beeping monitors and machines. Still no damn clock in sight. And of course, Vegetable Jim on the other side of the navy blue curtain, his presence made known by the rhythmic sounds of his breathing machine inhaling… exhaling… inhaling…

At first, Rick looked around almost frantically. His eyes searched every corner and shadow of the room, looking for any sign that Shane had been there. It had felt so real, and it had been so vivid. He'd been standing _right behind_ Dr. Edwards. Rick stared at the wall, part of him trying to will Shane to appear again. It was one thing to have seen him, but he'd _spoken_. He'd said something aloud – sounded healthy, alive, _real_.

 _Fuck,_ Rick thought. _Maybe I am losing my fuckin' mind. Shane's dead. I know that… It musta just been whatever Edwards stuck into my IV. That fucker._

He couldn't be too angry, though, because he _had_ slept really well. Dreamlessly, which was ideal – made it easier to decipher from the nightmares and the actual memories. And as much as he hated to admit it, he felt considerably better than the day before. His head still throbbed, but his muscles didn't feel quite as weak. He managed to stand up and walk to the bathroom at his quickest pace yet. Although his head was throbbing painfully by the time he crawled back into bed. Once he got situated, he pressed the Call button and waited for a nurse.

When the door opened, he expected to see Nurse Phyllis walk through. But as soon as a male nurse that Rick didn't recognize entered the room, he remembered that she'd said she was off on Sundays. He wondered if she was in church right now. This new nurse was a little shorter than Phyllis, and he had pale skin, curly blond hair, and a short beard of the same color. He looked like he was young enough to be her son, too, probably Rick's age or younger. He approached the bedside and Rick spotted a name badge that read: _Alden – RN_.

"Well, good mornin', Mr. Grimes. How ya doin' today?" He asked in a fake cheery tone, leaning down and checking all of the monitors, then reaching out to gingerly check the tubes and wires still connected to Rick's arm and head.

"Better," Rick replied, voice raspy as he watched this new nurse's every movement. He licked his lips and continued, "What time is it? An' what'd Edwards give me last night? I _told_ 'im I didn't wanna go back ta sleep so soon, but he – "

"It was probably just a sedative," Alden interjected. "Relax – it's only nine-thirty. You must've needed the good night's sleep or else he wouldn't've given you something. He knows what he's doing – he's a _neurosurgeon_. You know how much schooling that specialty takes?"

Rick pressed lips tightly together and decided that this kid was no better than that shithead of a doctor. He watched the nurse move around his bedside, jotting down notes on a clipboard and double-checking the wires. Rick thought about Lori and Carl, and how he wished they were here. But he knew they were in church. _Their_ church, where everyone had probably been praying for him every Sunday for the last month. He couldn't wait to get out of this damned hospital and back to his usual routine, including church on Sunday mornings.

"How's your head feel?" Alden asked, tucking the clipboard away into a slip that hung from the end of Rick's bed.

Rick grimaced and replied dryly, "Like it's in a goddamn vice."

Alden pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, as if he hadn't expected any answer other than "better." He glanced at the monitors again and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his scrubs. "Alright. I'll let Edwards know. He's in surgery right now, but he should be out in the next hour or two."

" _Hour_ or two?" Rick looked at the nurse quizzically. "Why can't you give me somethin' for the pain? Phyllis was givin' me somethin' that – "

But Alden quickly shook his head and put his hands up defensively, cutting Rick off, "Oh, no no – I don't have the kinda clearance Phyllis has. Edwards _specifically_ told me not to administer anything t'you without his direct permission. I can uh, get you some breakfast? You want some biscuits an' gravy or somethin'?"

Rick sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation. Dr. Edwards really was a control freak – probably one of those paranoid doctors who thought every patient was going to get addicted to the pain meds. Or maybe he just wanted to make Rick suffer a little. Either way, what a prick.

But he wasn't going to turn down an offer of food. His appetite was returning to normal, and at the mention of biscuits and gravy, his mouth watered a little. He shrugged, still frowning.

"Sure. Whatever," he muttered, looking around for the remote to the TV and ignoring Alden.

"Um – okay. I'll get that in here for ya," the nurse agreed, quickly turning and leaving the room.

Rick was glad to see him gone. He found the remote and managed to turn the TV on. He thought he might've been hearing things, but it sounded like Vegetable Jim's heart monitor sped up very briefly when the sound of the TV began to fill the room. Rick shook his head and turned the volume up.

 _Fuck. How many more days in here? If I ain't there already, this place is gonna drive me insane,_ he thought, flipping through Sunday morning football, _Oprah_ reruns, kids' morning cartoons, and televised evangelicals.

"Hope ya got some sleep, Jim," Rick called across the room, relaxing back into his pillows. "I gotta keep some kinda sounds in here – I'm gonna go stir crazy. Family's s'posed ta visit later. But who knows how long for this time…"

But Vegetable Jim didn't give a shit about Rick's mental state. Nor did he care that Rick's wife had better things to do than sit by her husband's side in the hospital…. And so did his son, for that matter.

 _She was right – can't keep Carl from being a normal kid because of my job,_ Rick lamented silently, staring blankly at the screen of the TV as it played a car commercial. _He doesn't need to be sittin' in a hospital, around all_ _ **this**_ _shit, listenin' to assholes like Edwards. He needs ta go be a kid. Then we can really spend time together once I get outta here._

He admitted to himself that he'd been kind of a dick to Lori the day before. He felt bad. She was only doing what she thought was best. She was working so hard to take care of Carl and keep their household running while he was laid up in the hospital, and he felt like a real asshole for letting himself forget it so quickly. He silently vowed to apologize to her as soon as she arrived with Carl. She deserved that much. Hell, she deserved more than that for being willing to drive all the way to Slabtown just to visit Rick's sorry ass. And from the way Carl talked, she hadn't been handling the grief well. Rick felt guilty for worrying her so badly. She'd probably been close to writing him off as dead, and he couldn't blame her for that. His chest ached at the thought of how much she had to deal with on her own – Carl, their family, the media, Shane's death. It was no wonder she'd been doing nothing but crying and vomiting.

Alden sent another nurse to deliver Rick's breakfast – a skinny black girl with puffy hair and big, russet-colored eyes. She didn't utter a word as she placed the tray down and spun the swivel table around so it was sitting above Rick's lap. He thanked her, but she merely nodded and rushed back out the door. The biscuits from the hospital cafeteria were soggy and dry at the same time, and there was way too much salt and not enough pepper in the gravy. Rick scarfed it down regardless, swigging down his small cup of orange juice between bites. There wasn't a single part of him that was thinking about Edwards' warning to "take it easy."

When Edwards entered the room about an hour later, Rick was watching a rerun of _The Office_ , chuckling quietly to himself as Ed Helms talked into a camera with a comically upset expression on his face: _"…for those of you unfamiliar with William Shakespeare, a cuckold is a man whose woman is cheating on him. I've lived the part!"_ Rick's light laughter faded away and his smile immediately disappeared when he saw the door opening from the corner of his eye and Edwards briskly crossing the room. He turned his attention back to the TV screen, but then the doctor was approaching the end of his bed and talking over Steve Carrell's hilariously awkward monologue.

"Good morning, Mr. Grimes. I see you had breakfast – and you're feeling better?" Dr. Edwards proclaimed, a smug smile on his face as he pulled the clipboard from the slip at the end of Rick's bed and began looking over the pages. "You think a healthy night of sleep might've contributed to that, or…?" His tone came off slightly smug, too, but Rick was trying to ignore it, eyes still trained on the TV.

"I dunno. Prob'ly," Rick muttered, staring blankly as commercials began to play. He made a point of keeping the remote in his hand without turning the volume down. "You gonna gimme somethin' fer this headache or what?"

Edwards sighed and Rick finally flitted his gaze over to settle on the doctor as he scribbled notes onto the clipboard, glancing at the monitors while he wrote. "Sure, if that's what you want. But you know too many pain meds cause constipation – "

"I ain't askin' you ta pump me full a morphine. Shit, I'd settle fer a damn _Aspirin_ at this point," Rick said, agitation growing in his voice. "'Sides, what d'you care how my shits come out? Yer a head doctor – worry about my _head_."

Edwards arched an eyebrow, unfazed. Then he finished his notes and shrugged, tucking the clipboard back into its slip before stepping around to the side of the bed. He reached into the pocket of his white lab coat – a different lab coat today, free of food stains – and Rick expected him to pull out a syringe, but it was a penlight. Edwards leaned in and shined the light into Rick's open eyes without warning, leaning in to study the pupils closely.

Rick blinked and tried to look away, but the doctor cleared his throat loudly and said, "Follow the light, please."

Begrudgingly, Rick looked into the bright penlight and followed it with his gaze as Edwards moved it from side to side. His head throbbed from the shock of the light, and as soon as the penlight clicked off, he shut his eyes tightly and turned his head away for a moment, face set in a hard scowl.

Edwards stepped back and glanced at the monitors again, then reached out and fiddled with the IV in Rick's arm, inspecting it. Without another word, or even a sigh of contempt, he pulled a syringe from his pocket and uncapped it, then injected it into Rick's IV. He disposed of the needle in the plastic red bin on the wall and stepped away, grabbing the clipboard again and jotting something down.

The scowl faded from Rick's face as the medicine coursed through his veins and he felt immediate relief. The throbbing in his head didn't disappear by any means, but it was slowly ebbing away, becoming more manageable. His muscles relaxed and he watched Edwards slip the clipboard back into its slip before stepping away, moving toward the door.

"That it?" Rick asked.

The doctor stopped just short of the hanging curtain that kept Vegetable Jim out of sight and turned back. "Something else you wanted?"

Rick shrugged, hesitating momentarily. Then he asked, "My wife an' kid are comin' by soon – anybody else call about me?"

Edwards paused, visibly restraining himself from rolling his eyes in annoyance. He replied stiffly, "I – don't _know_. I'm not a receptionist, so…"

The muscles in Rick's arms tensed and flexed, and he wanted nothing more than to punch that smug look off the doctor's face. Why did he always have to be such a _dickhead_? But he bit back his agitation for now. If he lashed out, he was less likely to get what he wanted.

Grabbing at his chance, Rick asked, "So – can I get my phone now?"

Edwards waved his hand dismissively and quickly turned toward the door, answering as he walked away, "I don't _care_ , whatever. You woke up like, three times now, so whatever happens after this is yer _own_ doing."

Rick furrowed his brow, watching as the doctor pulled the door open. He called out after him, "Is that a yes?!"

He couldn't hear Edwards' answer clearly because the door fell shut, but the muffled bit he'd caught had sounded something like, " _Sure_! Yes, okay – !"

Rick let out a sigh of relief and relaxed back into his bed as the room returned to a comfortable lull of monitor beeps and TV noises. He decided that he would wait fifteen minutes, and if a nurse didn't bring his phone in, then he'd start pressing the Call button and bugging them. Edwards had agreed, after all. He wasn't the most _optimistic_ doctor, but from the way he said "woke up three times now," Rick felt he could safely deduce that he was making a miraculous recovery through and through. And a little screen time wasn't going to be the thing to _kill_ him – at least not today.

He tried to distract himself by watching TV, but he was only thinking of getting his phone and seeing Lori and Carl again. He wondered if they would head over right after church or if they'd stop and have lunch first. He hoped they'd wait and have lunch with him, but he couldn't blame them if they wanted to eat something besides hospital cafeteria food. Then he started thinking about all the stories Carl would have to tell him from church, and a smile ghosted across his mouth.

Rick found a clock on The Weather Channel and when he saw that twenty minutes had passed since Edwards visited, he pressed the Call button for a nurse. Within thirty seconds, the door was opening and Alden was entering the room. He walked briskly, passing Vegetable Jim without so much as a glance before reaching Rick's bedside.

"You rang?" Alden asked, a hint of irritation in his voice.

"My phone? Edwards said I could have it," Rick said.

"Oh – right," Alden said, like it was something that had slipped his mind. And apparently, it was, because he reached into the front pocket of his celadon scrubs and pulled out a large Ziploc bag.

As soon as the nurse held it out, Rick recognized his phone and wallet inside the plastic. They looked exactly the same as the last day he'd been holding them in his pockets. He reached out and quickly took the bag, opening it and reaching inside to fish his things out.

"Charger?" He asked, giving Alden an expectant look.

Alden frowned and shrugged. "That's all they gave me."

Rick sighed, pressing all the buttons on his phone and getting nothing more than a black screen with a red, empty battery sign flashing in the middle. He looked at Alden again, who was picking up Rick's breakfast tray and turning to leave. "You tellin' me you ain't got a charger? Bet there's twenty different kinds behind the desk a that nurses' station."

Alden paused and glanced back, and Rick could see his jaw briefly clenching. " _Fine_ – iPhone or Android?"

Thirty minutes later, Rick was leaning back against his bed, the top half raised so he was close to a sitting position, with his phone in his hands. It had taken a while to charge before it would power up, and while he waited, he sorted through his wallet and accounted for everything that was supposed to be there. All his cards were present, his driver's license, the twenty-seven dollars in cash that was left over from a breakfast or a transaction or _something_ he couldn't remember. And the family photo of him and Lori and Carl. It used to sit in the visor of his sheriff's department car, but after his promotion, he felt better having them with him at all times. Now he was grateful for it.

He stuck the photo into a small crevice in the side rails of the bed, so he could see it from where he sat by glancing down toward his knees. His phone finally came to life – the bright, white light of the screen caught his attention, and then he was staring at a picture of Carl on the diving board at the public pool, overlaid with the current time and date displayed in white, block letters: _11:13 Sunday, October 1_.

 _Shit, that picture's from June – he's definitely grown since then_ , Rick thought, smiling faintly to himself as he picked up the phone in his hands and unlocked it for the first time in over a month.

As expected, there were tons of notifications waiting for him. Hundreds of missed calls and texts, dozens of voicemails. Scrolling through, he found that the majority were from the night of August 26th, or the day after. His chest ached when he saw how many times Lori had tried to call him, just minutes after he lost consciousness, and tears pooled in his eyes as he read through her increasingly frantic text messages. It was like a terrifying chronicle of all the panic and chaos he'd caused after being bashed over the head.

His heart felt like it was dropping down to his stomach when he eventually scrolled far enough down to find the last calls ingoing and outgoing on August 26th – two from Shane and two to Shane. Rick could still remember the quick phone conversations like they were yesterday. How was it that he could remember every detail of that normal Saturday, before the bust, but he couldn't remember seeing a weapon during those last moments of consciousness? How was it possible for someone to have pulled a gun out and fired it like that? Surely, he would've heard the hammer cocking back, would've heard the faint sounds of heavy steel clicking and shaking in the small, trembling hands of a teenager.

But her hands _couldn't_ have been trembling, because she got her shot. Dead-on. She ended Shane's life with one, perfectly-aimed bullet. That didn't happen by _luck_. Most people didn't even know how to hit someone's heart through the back like that. Was she signaled by Hershel? Had Rick missed that, too? What if he'd trained his daughters for that very moment, waiting for some hapless officers to step across enemy lines?

Rick began racking his brain, trying to think back and scrutinize every single tiny movement or facial expression that the old man Greene had made. But nothing had been out of the ordinary. If anything, the old farmer had seemed… _scared_. Like maybe he hadn't expected these two men to show up on his door. Like maybe he knew the jig was finally up, and there was no hiding anymore.

Or did he plan the entire thing? Had Rick been meant to die right alongside Shane?

His head was starting to throb again and he scolded himself, setting the phone down in his lap and closing his eyes for a long moment. He focused on breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth. Slowly. Steadily. He pictured Carl and Lori, thought about how they'd be arriving any minute now. The throbbing lessened, but only barely. Was the medicine wearing off already? Fuck, he _really_ didn't wanna have to ask any of these assholes for more relief. Why couldn't Phyllis just be back already? So far, she seemed to be the _only_ staff member in the entire ICU who _actually_ gave a shit about Rick.

When he opened his eyes again, he grabbed the remote and changed the channel on the TV. Some awful sitcom had come on and the incessant laugh track was making his head hurt worse. He flipped through the channels, pausing on a local Atlanta station. He'd just happened to be flipping through while a commercial for the five o'clock news was on, and of course, his name was one of the headlines.

"…and also tonight at five, Detective Rick Grimes has reportedly woken up from a _thirty-four day_ coma. As court proceedings continue moving behind the doors of confidentiality, will this miraculous recovery have an effect on the charges being pressed against the Greene Family? Tune in tonight and find out, five o'clock right here on WAGA."

His heart did a little leap and he quickly changed the channel again. But even as he flicked through football and cartoons and commercials, he wasn't thinking about anything else except the news reports. What had they been saying about him and Shane while he was asleep? Were they treading dangerously close to the line of what was safe to report about the case? Anger bubbled up inside him at the mere _thought_ of the media overstepping their boundaries and tarnishing the D.A.'s case against the Greene's. He'd seen it happen before, he was fully aware of the very real possibility of seeing it happen again.

Yet another reason he needed to get out and do everything in his power to make sure that family paid for what they did.

After another ten or fifteen minutes of trying to ignore his headache, as well as the urge to look up exactly what the media had been saying about the case, Rick finally set the remote aside with a sigh, turning the volume down and leaving it on a rerun of _That 70s Show_. He checked the time, wondering when Carl and Lori would be showing up and if he should try giving them a call. He decided he should probably call the rest of his family, too – since, obviously, the staff at Grady had no intention of passing messages or letting him know if people were inquiring about him. Then again, if the reporters were really getting as bad as Lori, Phyllis, and Edwards had said, then maybe there was good reason for that.

His finger hovered over the phone screen, debating on tapping down and calling his brother, Jeff. He'd probably already heard that Rick had woken up. Lori probably went home and called the whole family the night before. But he was a busy guy with an important job, so Rick thought maybe he should wait until later. He couldn't think clearly enough to remember what time zone Jeff was in, or if he might still be in church at this moment, or in bed. Rick decided to wait until later.

Part of him wanted to call the home where his mother lived, but the dementia had hit early and devastatingly hard, and the last time he'd gone to visit her – a week before the bust – she hadn't recognized him at all. Not even for a brief moment. She kept asking for Rick and Jeff's father. But Donald Grimes had died of an aneurysm in his sleep nine years ago. A small, ashamed part of Rick was grateful that she couldn't remember. At least then, he knew she didn't remember the pain. And he knew she hadn't been worrying herself sick for the last month, or waiting on the edge of her seat for a phone call. He told himself that he would make a visit to her once he was out of the hospital and back to his normal routine.

And that was everyone he could think of that would give a damn about receiving a call or text message from him. Besides Lerner, of course. But Rick was planning on giving her a call after Lori and Carl left. Honestly, he was expecting her to show up randomly. From what Phyllis had said, Dawn had been calling the hospital and checking on his status regularly. Which could mean she had something to important to tell him. But then again, maybe she had no intentions of coming to see him. Maybe she just wanted to make sure he survived. Either way, he figured it wouldn't hurt to reach out. He needed to speak with her anyway. He needed clarification on so many details.

With a thoughtful glance at the photo beside his knees, Rick gave up on the entire idea of calling or texting anyone. First things first: he had a lot of catching up to do on the Greene case. And if Lori didn't want to give him answers, then he'd find them on his own. He opened up the web browser on his phone and focused in on the small screen in front of him, ignoring the gradually intensifying ache in the right side of his head as he typed in a search and scrolled through Google search results.

It seemed that most of the news stations in Georgia had reported on the case, even a few in other states. The majority of the articles were about searching for Beth Greene or asking the public for help in locating her, though he only found two news stations that had been reporting on the case somewhat regularly. His eyes skimmed through multiple articles, his finger tapping and scrolling on the touchscreen as he sorted through website after website, following headlines and links and recommended articles. He didn't see anyone like CNN or Fox reporting on the case, though he hadn't really expected to. It was big news in a small town like Senoia, and even in Atlanta. But in general, why would the rest of the nation give a damn about some southern farm family that got busted for making meth? Cops died every day and no one made a big fuss about it. Most had no idea. Rick expected nothing different for his and Shane's story. Especially when there were so many other things to report on – like the goofball president in office and all the atrocities multiplying on the streets every week, or the rising fear of North Korea and nuclear missiles. And if there wasn't one national tragedy happening, it was another. He figured that the Greene case was just another tragedy. Not quite tragic enough to make a good story, though. It wouldn't sell books or anything like that, so why would the sensationalists bother with it?

He scrolled through and found an older article reporting on something related to the Greene case. He tapped the link and skimmed through the words, taking in the gist of the paragraphs. His stomach quickly knotted up as he read:

… _James "Jimmy" Cline of Senoia, 19… passed away while being held for recent charges… apparently self-inflicted… former boyfriend of Beth Greene… arrested on the night of August 25th… $200,000 bail set, no bond placed… refused the deal being offered by police… took his own life on the night of the 30th… it was Cline's information that ultimately led to Detective Shane Walsh and Detective Rick Grimes being sent inside the Greene Family home on the evening of August 26th, armed with a judge-granted warrant…_

 _Fuck,_ Rick thought, his heart picking up speed as he quickly exited the article and searched for any others similar to it. _No_ _ **shit**_ _his information took us to the Greene's house -_ _me an' Shane_ _ **put**_ _him in that fuckin' interrogation room._ _ **We**_ _questioned him. What the hell happened? He_ _ **wanted**_ _to take a deal. When did he change his mind? When his little girlfriend shot a cop and went on the run? Was he supposed to have gone with her?_

His head was starting to throb again. He squeezed his eyes shut and lowered the phone in his hands for a minute, willing the pain to go away. He was really hoping for a nurse to walk in and offer him some more pain meds, though. The sounds of his beeping monitors, Vegetable Jim's respirator, and the quiet TV bounced around in his head, making it harder to get rid of the aching. He fought back the bile that was threatening to rise in his throat.

He took a break from the phone and went to the bathroom, wobbling on weak legs as he leaned against the metal pole holding his IV bags for support. Once he'd relieved himself and washed his hands, he splashed some cold water on his face, stared at his reflection in the mirror. Despite the month's worth of beauty rest, he looked shittier than ever. Greasy, messy hair, unshaven face, sallow cheeks, heavy bags under his eyes. He grimaced and looked away from the mirror to splash more water on his face. The throbbing was gradually receding. For now.

Rick returned to his bed and got comfortable again, picking his phone back up and returning to the page of search results he'd been scrolling through. He clicked an article that appeared to have nothing to do with Jimmy's death – because he didn't seem capable of thinking about that mess at the moment – and read another description of the events that took place on the Greene Farm. When he found nothing that he didn't already know, he went back to the results and looked for any updates on the court proceedings. He found headlines about them being in custody, about searching for Beth Greene. He didn't click any of the links until he found, what appeared to be, the most recent update on the actual court proceedings of the Greene case. He knew there wouldn't be much to tell this early on, but he had to at least know that _someone_ was being charged for Shane's death.

The article was about two-and-a-half weeks old, and it wasn't very long or detailed. At first, Rick's eyes skimmed through the paragraphs, taking in the important bits. Hershel and his evil kin had already had their first appearances, and they were all facing a hailstorm of felony charges. Of course, they had an attorney. But that didn't really mean much when it was the D.A. prosecuting you, and the entire state of Georgia. He let out a small breath of relief when he saw that Hershel Greene would be facing _multiple_ life sentences.

 _Good_ , he thought. _Rot in prison, fucker. If ya even last that long._

Rick scrolled back up and moved his finger to click the Back button, but he stopped. A word in the article caught his eye – one that he'd missed the first time skimming through. He read the sentence to see why that word was even present in an article about a meth family's legal case:

… _Det. Grimes was recently moved from Harrison Memorial Hospital to Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta for more intensive care, where his pregnant wife remains by his side almost daily…_

He blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Pulled the screen in a little closer and squinted down at it. Reread the sentence ten times over. Was it a misprint?

His heart skipped. His stomach was tangling into knots again, but for much different reasons than before.

 _Pregnant?_ He thought, closing his eyes and visualizing what Lori had looked like the day before. What she'd felt like in his arms. Was it possible…? When was the last time they'd had sex? He was trying to remember, but for reasons he couldn't explain, that only made his head start throbbing again.

All he could picture was Shane sitting in the passenger seat that Saturday morning.

Lerner's stoic expression as she stood in her dimly lit office and explained the plan to them.

Carl's tight hug right before Rick headed off to work.

The poison-drenched words that had expelled from Lori's mouth on his way out of the house.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck. C'mon, Rick, get it together_ , he told himself, eyes squeezed shut, phone laying neglected in his lap, hands pressed to his forehead.

A small commotion at the door caught his attention, and he quickly opened his eyes and looked over to see what was happening. The door had opened, but only enough for him to see Edwards' arm sticking through. Rick caught a flash of someone with dark skin and bright yellow clothing, but that was all he could see before Edwards used his body as a physical shield to force the person farther away from the door, out of eyesight.

His voice was raised, agitated, and being directed at this mysterious person. But Rick could only hear Edwards' side of the heated argument. The other person's voice was no more than a feminine sound barely drifting in through the door, indiscernible over the doctor's rising tone. Rick could tell it was a woman, and she was angry. He guessed it must've been a reporter.

" – and _how_ many times do I have t'tell you that _I_ make the rules here?!" Edwards argued. "Just because Phyllis isn't here does _not_ mean you get to walk around this fucking floor, sticking your _nose_ in – hey hey, _no_ , why don't _you_ listen?! His _wife_ will be here any minute, you really wanna deal with _her_ wrath again? Oh – okay, _uh-huh_ – _YEAH_! That's right, _walk_ away!"

Rick stared quizzically, watching Edwards make a motion with his arm behind the door that vaguely looked like he was flipping someone the bird. Then he slipped inside the room and shut the door tightly behind him, peering out through the rectangular window for nearly a full minute before he turned around. Rick's head was still pounding, but he was more concerned with what the hell had just been going on outside his hospital room.

Dr. Edwards heaved an exasperated sigh and crossed the room with long, brisk strides. He approached Rick's bedside and gave the monitors a brief glance before pulling a syringe from the pocket of his lab coat and uncapping it, grabbing Rick's IV with the other hand.

Rick was still staring at him with confusion, and he finally asked, "Who – what the hell was – "

Edwards stopped him, quickly injecting the syringe into Rick's IV and disposing of the needle. "Don't worry about it. I've got it under control. Your wife wanted me t'let you know she's on her way, and I guess your boss is gonna stop by later."

Rick furrowed his brow, watching the doctor step around and pull the clipboard from its slip at the end of the bed to jot down a quick note. "Thought you wasn't a receptionist?"

Edwards rolled his eyes and met Rick's scrutinizing gaze. "I'm taking a little _pity_ on you, Mr. Grimes. You'll be glad I did. There's a _reason_ I'm married to surgery, and women like _those_ two are part of that reason."

Rick bit back a retort, resisting the urge to tell Edwards not to _ever_ talk about Lori like that. But shit… if he didn't make a _hell_ of a good point…

Rick could only guess that Edwards had already had the misfortune of meeting Dawn Lerner. From the way the doctor talked, it seemed like the most probable explanation.

A light scowl playing on his lips, Rick watched Edwards leave again without so much as a "goodbye" or "need anything else?". He made a point not to thank the doctor. And as much as he hated being called Mr. Grimes, he wasn't going to correct that either. It was the only ounce of respect Edwards had shown thus far.

A few minutes of silence with his eyes closed and head resting back against the pillows helped to ease the pain in Rick's head. Or it could've been the meds he'd just been given. He half-listened to the low sounds of the TV against the methodic breathing of Vegetable Jim's respirator and all of their various monitors. Was this what being lucky felt like? When was the good part going to show up? When would Rick feel the triumph or the justice or the closure?

And when the _fuck_ would his wife and kid be here? He was already starting to lose his sanity from the lack of decent social interaction.

The room became too quiet. Rick spoke aloud, turning his head toward the navy blue curtain. "Guess I'll be havin' more visitors than I thought today, Jim. Hope ya don't mind. Lerner might get loud – she ain't quite figured out how ta utilize her indoor voice when she gets emotional. An' I got a feelin' she's gonna get emotional."

He was partially dreading Lerner's visit. He had high hopes for more conclusive answers than he could get from Lori or the internet, but other than that, he knew it would be a tense conversation full of teary eyes and choked-up statements. Lerner didn't take loss well – she never had. He'd seen how she dealt with losing officers before. Detectives. Colleagues. Particularly her mentor, who'd been killed in the line of duty three years ago. She stopped crying about it, but he still saw how it affected her. Still saw how the "grief counseling" hadn't done her a damn bit of good. And how her usually stoic persona was permanently faltered. She wasn't nearly as tough as she pretended to be.

Rick wasn't sure if Edwards had given him a little more than usual or if it was just severely needed relief, but the meds were really starting to kick in. His head felt numb if he kept it completely still, which he did, and he lay motionless in the bed, not even daring to open his eyes and look at the TV screen for fear of losing this brief pain-free moment. He could hear a rerun of _Scrubs_ playing, Zach Braff's voice drifting in and settling over his hazy brain.

When he found himself on the brink of drifting to sleep, he finally opened his eyes and pushed back against it. He glanced down at the picture beside his knees, remembering that Lori and Carl were on their way. They'd be here any time now. And there was another thought drifting around, foggy and unclear, but very real in its sudden urge. Rick reached out and picked up his phone, unlocking the screen and tapping one of the colorful icons. It opened on his list of favorite contacts, and he tapped the second number on the list: Shane.

He put the phone to his ear and listened. There was no ringing, only silence. But after a few long seconds, a voice was filling Rick's ear. A familiar voice, one he'd heard over the phone thousands of times.

" _This is Shane. Leave yer message an' if I think it's worth my time, I might call ya back. If I don't answer yer texts – take the fuckin' hint._ "

A smirk tugged at the corner of Rick's mouth, but it quickly faded when the recording ended and an automated voice announced, "Voice mailbox is full. Please try again later."

He quickly pulled the phone away from his ear and pressed the End Call button. His stomach might've knotted up, but he was too numb from the meds to notice. All he could think about was how odd it was; that the way he'd heard Shane's voice last night had sounded even more real than an actual _recording_ of his voice. Was Rick's mind playing tricks on him? Accessing all his memories and replicating his best friend's voice just to taunt him? Was this a symptom of PTSD? Or something more? Maybe it was just a one-off thing.

He couldn't let it get to him. If he did, it wouldn't go away. Even if he _did_ have PTSD or whatever the hell else, he couldn't let it bother him, or even acknowledge its presence, because then it would slow him down. It would cause more worry and stress for his family. Most importantly, it would bring more medical treatments, which meant medical bills and time wasted inside sterile rooms. He needed to focus on getting better and getting out of Grady. Just like Lori had said.

Lori. Pregnant? _Fuck_ – he needed to deal with that, too. Once again, his stomach wasn't responding in the usual painful way. He could only hope that these pain meds didn't wear completely off by the time Lori and Carl arrived. He wanted to enjoy the brief visits with his family. Not argue with his wife. There was more than enough time for that after he was home. Besides, his memory was shit. His brain was damaged, no matter what he tried to tell himself or what Dr. Edwards said. He _had_ to be misremembering things. Lori being pregnant was _good_ news. If it was actually true, if the reporters got that part right, then Rick should be ecstatic. Instead, he was just numb.

But when there wasn't pain, there also wasn't happiness. He didn't feel much at all right now. So he closed his eyes and decided to think about all the things he wanted to do with Carl once the hospital released him. It kept him from falling asleep, and it also kept him from thinking about Shane, or the news, or Lerner, or the Greene case in general. Or Lori and the state of their marriage.

When the numbness began to wear off, Rick opened his eyes and half-heartedly watched TV. He switched the channel over to watch the Atlanta Falcons play against the Buffalo Bills, but three quarters in, it was looking like the Falcons would be taking another L. Not that he'd had high hopes for them anyway. He'd be surprised if they made it to the playoffs this season. But the familiar sounds of a huge crowd cheering, the referees' whistles, the angry yells of men in padded uniforms… it reminded Rick of watching Sunday night football at Shane's house. Watching Shane jump up out of his seat whenever the Falcons got the ball. Seeing Lori rolling her eyes whenever the Falcons got a touchdown and Rick would celebrate by doing a goofy chest bump with his best friend, sloshing a little beer out of the cans in their hands.

All those memories felt like a lifetime ago.

* * *

It was nearly three in the afternoon when Lori and Carl finally arrived. They arrived with warm "good morning"s and "Dad, we're back"s, still wearing their church clothes, Lori's long, dark hair flowing down her shoulders and back, dressed in another loose-fitting, flowy dress and flats. Carl's short brown hair looked like it had been combed nicely when the morning began, but that wasn't the case anymore, and there was an orange stain that looked like thousand island dressing on the collar of his white button-up, but Lori had dressed him in new jeans and his shiny, black dress shoes. His eyes lit up all over again when he entered the room and spotted Rick, and he rushed over to his dad's bedside to wrap him in a tight hug.

Lori was carrying two Starbucks cups in her hands, her purse slung over her shoulder, and she approached Rick's bedside with a smile on her face, holding one of the cups out for him to take. As soon as he finished hugging Carl, he reached out and took the warm cup carefully, returning her smile. His chest suddenly felt lighter at the sight of his wife and son, and Carl was quickly climbing up to join Rick on the bed. Rick scooted over, grunting and focusing on not spilling his hot drink.

"One good thing about wakin' up when you did – your favorite Starbucks drink is back," Lori joked, pulling a chair over and taking a seat beside Rick's bed.

Rick turned the cup in his hands and checked the Sharpie scribbles to find that it was, in fact, his favorite drink: the Peppermint Mocha. He would be happier, but momentarily, it had felt like a harsh reminder of how much time he'd missed out on.

"Oh, nice," he commented, putting on a smile and looking over at Lori. "So you got yer Pumpkin Spice, right?"

Lori chuckled and nodded, raising her cup briefly and answering, "You already know it, baby."

He glanced at the Sharpie scribbles on her Starbucks cup and saw the familiar " _PSL_ " written there, partially covered by her fingers. But there was another box checked beneath it – the Decaf box. He furrowed his brow but didn't say anything as he watched her take a long drink.

He raised his own cup to his lips and carefully sipped. It was his first taste of caffeine in over a month and he could definitely tell. The warmth slid easily down his throat and spread all throughout his body. There were so many things he loved about life that he didn't appreciate nearly enough, and this sensation was certainly one of them.

Lori pulled her purse off her shoulder and reached inside to pull out a smaller black bag. She set it on the small table beside Rick's bed and explained, "Brought yer shower an' shaving stuff."

He glanced at the bag and gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks, babe."

"Dad, I um, I went an' slept over at Cody's house last night! And then today, church was awesome! The _whole_ church talked about you," Carl said excitedly, grinning as he got comfortable beside Rick on the bed.

"Oh yeah? Tell me everything," Rick urged him, leaning back and exchanging a look with Lori as his son went on to tell him all about their Saturday night and Sunday morning.

Carl talked all about his sleepover with his friend for several minutes. And then he talked about what he'd learned in Sunday School and some of the things Pastor Craig had said during the last half of services, including how the pastor had been very happy to hear about Rick's recovery and had announced it to the whole congregation so they could all pray to have him back in church soon. Hearing this made Rick's heart soar, and he smiled and asked for more details about Carl's day. Carl went on to tell him about talking to Craig after services, and how almost everyone in the church had come over to give Carl a hug and tell him how good of a boy he was, how strong and "like his father" he was growing up to be. Rick beamed proudly when he heard this, and glanced over to share a smile with Lori.

Carl finally ended his story with telling about how he and Lori had gone to lunch at Waffle House with their neighbors, Fred and Cindy, before coming to the hospital. Rick raised his eyebrows and turned to ask Lori how the Drake's were doing, since the last time he'd seen them had been nearly two months ago. She told him a few small stories about what was new with them, and Rick nodded, eyes drifting down to gaze at her belly curiously before quickly flitting back to Carl, who had turned to pay his attention to the muted football game on TV. But she didn't seem to notice as she went on about more neighborhood gossip and Rick listened, sipping his mocha thoughtfully.

Once he was caught up on all the latest gossip and news about their friends and neighbors, Rick glanced over to make sure that Carl was still watching the game on TV. He was, his small head tilted back as he stared at the screen silently, watching the players trying to run the ball and getting tackled. Rick sat up a little straighter in bed, clutching his warm cup between both hands and leaning in slightly closer to Lori.

"Saw Edwards gettin' into it with somebody earlier – think it mighta been a reporter," he explained, giving her a slightly confused look.

Lori's face fell and she rolled her eyes in exasperation, taking a long swig of her latte before responding. " _Great_. Sounds like I'll have ta have another talk with him – "

"No," Rick stopped her. "He said he's got it under control. 'S just – I didn't think it was that _bad_. With the media. I didn't find a whole lotta articles about what happened, but it don't seem like they've got journalists waitin' outside for me or nothin'. Is it one in particular? Is somebody _harassing_ you an' Carl? I keep hearin' people mention some reporter lady, but I dunno if it's the same one or…"

Lori's face had become concerned as he spoke, and slightly angry, and by the time his voice had trailed off, she was leaning forward in her chair and chewing on her lower lip. Then she said, "You were lookin' up news articles? What for?"

He paused, narrowing his eyes as he studied her expression and replied, "Why _wouldn't_ I? The last thing I remember is seein' Shane laying on the ground next to me – I didn't even know I'd been hit over the head. I wanna find out as much as I can about what happened, I gotta make sense of this thing."

"The media doesn't report the facts, they just publish the shit they think will draw people in," she said bitterly. "I already _told_ you what happened, what d'you think yer gonna find out from a third party that you couldn't find out from me? Or Lerner? Haven't you talked to her yet?"

He shook his head. "No – they said she called every day when I was asleep, but she ain't been by yet. An' I keep hearin' that she ain't even my boss anymore. What's all that about?"

Lori sighed and sipped her latte before replying, "I don't _know_ , Rick. I mean, we both know how she handles high-stress situations. But she should've already come by t'talk to you. I'm sure she'll visit soon – and she wasn't the _only_ one worrying about you every day. Just so you know." There was an edge of resentment in her tone that made Rick's stomach clench.

"Right," he muttered, hand tightening around his soft Starbucks cup. "But you weren't callin' every day ta check up on me, or stoppin' by…"

Lori scowled and said, "You don't know that. I was worried _sick_ – we _both_ were," she gestured to Carl, who was still zoned in on the TV. She lowered her voice to add, "How many times do I have to apologize for not being here when you woke up? Is this gonna be your new reason not to trust me?"

Rick furrowed his brow and hesitated. Then he said quietly, "It's not _about_ that, Lori – you realize what I read in one a those articles?"

She paused, lips parted like she had a retaliation prepared but had been caught off-guard. She raised her eyebrows expectantly, mouth forming a thin line.

"That kid we interrogated – the one that dated the Beth girl – he _died_ in jail a few nights after the bust," Rick said. "How come you didn't tell me? You _knew_ me an' Shane questioned that kid."

Something that resembled relief crossed Lori's face, but Rick was almost sure that he was misinterpreting the expression. She looked down at her feet, clutching her drink between her hands, and shook her head. "I – didn't wanna worry you, baby. All that stuff, everything about the bust and the Greene case, it's all _work_ related. It's just more stress for you… It wasn't on my list of priorities when you woke up." She raised her head and met his eyes again with an apologetic expression. "I thought it'd be better if you heard it from Lerner. It's not like you can _do_ anything about it right now, anyway."

He let his defenses lower, silently scolding himself for jumping at the chance to get defensive. He knew she was right. It made him wonder if he was half the reason for most of their arguments – maybe he'd picked up Shane's bad habit of growing aggressive and defensive at the slightest hint of conflict. He made a mental note to work on that, reminding himself that Lori deserved the benefit of the doubt. She was his _wife_ , after all, and the mother of his child… _Children_. Or could that possibly be a lie from the media? One of these exaggerations she'd mentioned? Maybe he was assuming the worst without probable cause.

He licked his lips and looked away from her for a moment, a pang of guilt ringing through his bones. He took another sip of mocha, letting the mint spark to life on his tongue and tingle all the way down his throat. Like a long forgotten sensation. Waking from a coma was one _hell_ of an experience.

"I – I'm sorry. I understand that," he said softly, still not meeting her eyes. "But I found out somethin' _else_ , too – and I understand why you wouldn't wanna tell me right away. Jus' know that I ain't – _upset_. I get it. But – "

Lori interjected before he could finish, her voice still hushed as if Carl were across the room and not sitting feet away, "You found out about the pregnancy."

So it was true. And she _hadn't_ been trying to hide it. In a way, that relieved him. Well, she'd been _hiding_ it – but he could actually see and understand the reasons right in front of him. The day after waking from a coma was definitely up there with the top ten worst times to tell a man that he had another child on the way.

Rick nodded weakly, locking eyes with her and gauging her reaction. He muttered quietly, "A _baby_? Lori, I don't…" He couldn't suppress the smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth, tears pushing up to pool in his eyes. "That's _fantastic_ – it's the best news I coulda gotten, sweetheart. How – how far along are you…?"

He was waiting for the smile to appear on her face, anxiously anticipating it. But her eyes dulled and her gaze drifted away from his, down to the cup grasped between her hands. He saw her chewing on her bottom lip. He kept waiting for her to speak, to sit up straight and look him in the eye.

And then he saw it: the dread perched on her shoulders, hunching her over with uncertainty and fear. The familiar expression that creased her forehead and set her mouth in a hard, thin line. That look that suddenly clicked in his head.

And his stomach felt like it was dropping down to his feet. A knot was forming in his throat and the tears that had pooled in his eyes were quickly drying.

 _Shit,_ he thought. _Goddammit. No. She's barely showing. Had morning sickness for the last month. She can't be more than four months along, five at the most. When was the last time we had sex? I don't… Well, when was the last time we so much as_ _ **cuddled**_ _, or kissed more than a quick peck? Maybe… April… early April. It was spring time, we had a good Easter together… But we didn't make love. The last time we did_ _ **that**_ _was…_

"Carl, I think we uh – well, c'mere, honey," Lori's voice interrupted Rick's train of thought and he watched her quickly stand up, stepping over and reaching out to grab Carl's arm.

"Mom, what – we're not leaving, are we?" Carl asked quizzically, glancing back at his dad as he allowed his mom to help him climb down off the bed.

"No, I just – me an' yer dad need ta have a grown-up conversation," she explained, turning away from Rick so he couldn't see the expression on her face, though he heard the tense clip to her voice. "C'mon, I brought your Nintendo DS, you can sit in the waiting room an' play for a little bit."

Rick could hear Carl faintly arguing as he held Lori's hand and crossed the hospital room, slipping out into the hallway and disappearing from sight together. The door fell shut and Rick closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and trying to steady his pounding heart. The only thing he had to be grateful for at the moment was the lack of pain in his head. It seemed Dr. Edwards' timing had been impeccable.

But his mind was still racing. He didn't want to think about this right now. He didn't want to have to face it or deal with it. This is why he'd felt that dread, why he'd found himself numb rather than ecstatic. Because deep down, he _knew_. Even if he didn't specifically remember at first, it was hitting him like a ton of bricks now. The look on Lori's face had told him everything he needed to know. The way she'd nervously worried her lip had been the signal that snapped him into realization. Something clicked between his head and his memory, and the final remnants of his foggy coma brain were fading away.

He remembered. How could he not? His brain wasn't _that_ fucked up.

 _The last time we had sex was Valentine's Day… seven months ago,_ Rick thought, his stomach twisting and clenching painfully. He stared down blankly at the Starbucks cup still clutched in his hand, lukewarm and half-empty. _That baby isn't mine._

Lori returned and as soon as she stepped into the room, Rick's entire body tensed. He reflexively clenched his jaw and locked his eyes on her face, though she was staring down at her feet as she crossed the room and took her seat again. He inhaled deeply through his nose and willed himself to relax, to contain his emotions and bite back the first twenty things he wanted to say.

Maybe there was an explanation. Maybe… there was _something_. Could they fix this? Or was this it? Was their marriage ending in a hospital room?

She shifted in her seat and wrung her hands together in her lap. He could see her bottom lip tremble for a brief second, but then she was forcing her face into a stern and stoic expression and lifting her head to meet his gaze. He stared back expectantly, watching the tears brimming in her brown eyes, glistening and watery. Her nostrils flared and then she was leaning back and placing a hand over her stomach.

Her fingers pulled the fabric of her dress taut over the visible bump. It was like a flashback from eleven years ago for Rick, seeing the familiar roundness on his wife. His heart leapt and his stomach twisted harder as he glanced at her belly, suddenly noticing all the changes in her body at once. The wider waistline, the swollen breasts, the fuller cheeks and slight glow to her porcelain skin. Even her hair seemed to be shinier and thicker. The right side of his head throbbed lightly. How had he missed it? He'd been so utterly oblivious all those weeks before the bust.

"It's… Rick, I _love_ you, and this _isn't_ how I wanted to tell you," Lori's voice came out shaky and hesitant. Her hand slipped away, letting the dress fall back into place and hide her small bump. "I-I can't even _begin_ to explain to you… how _terrified_ I was to tell you. To try to explain how – _why_ this happened. But then the bust went horribly wrong and I… _Jesus_ , baby, I'm _so_ sorry. I understand if you don't ever wanna see me again, I know that I – "

"Whose is it?" Rick stopped her abruptly, his voice deep and stern. He couldn't break away from their intense eye contact long enough to glance at his heart monitor, but he was almost positive that his blood pressure was through the roof right now. The throbbing in his head was getting worse every second, but it was nothing compared to the twisting pain in his gut, or the hollow chill inside his chest.

She stared back with wide eyes, lips barely parted, fingers fidgeting together in her lap. Every second of silence made Rick angrier, and he began to wonder if he'd _ever_ known this woman sitting before him. This complete stranger disguised as his wife.

"Answer me," he said flatly. "Whose is it?"

He could see her swallowing hard, and her eyes flicked away from his momentarily. She licked her lips and met his gaze again. Then she finally answered, with a tone far too soft for the solid punch to the gut that her words delivered.

"Shane's. I'm th-thirteen weeks along."

It was like someone had stolen all the air from Rick's lungs. A deep ache echoed through his chest and he thought he might have a heart attack right here, right now. He'd never realized just how many thoughts could race through your head at one time until now – every little piece was falling into place, all the clues, the little signs, every single thing he'd _ever_ second-guessed or slightly questioned. There were dozens of memories flashing through his mind, all at once. At first, he thought, _Shane who?_ But he knew. In his _bones_ , he fucking knew. He didn't have to ask.

His head began to throb so hard, he thought his eyesight might give out. There were black spots around the edges of his vision, and he blinked rapidly, shaking his head and looking away from Lori's cold, empty gaze. He'd never known a pain so intense. His lungs were still struggling to fill with oxygen. His hands began to tremble until the cup in his hand was visibly shaking, the liquid inside sloshing around. Nausea was building in his throat and he felt the bile beginning to rise.

"You were fucking my _best_ _friend_ for the last two _months_ he was alive?" His voice was nearly a growl, ground out through gritted teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will away the pain overwhelming his body, forcing back the rising bile. It felt like every single one of his major organs was on fire, or in severe distress. He'd never, in his entire life, experienced a sensation like this. Being betrayed by the two people he trusted most in the world…

Briefly, he wondered if this was the kind of thing that made a man snap and tumble over the edge, into insanity.

Whatever thoughts had been in his head about fixing this, or fixing their marriage, were quickly flying out the window. He couldn't even fathom a way to fix _himself_ right now. He began to think that he'd much rather have been literally bashed over the skull again than to have _this_ dropped on him.

Lori hesitated again, and she spoke quieter than before, weakly answering, "The last _four_ months… We-we were gonna tell you. After the Greene bust, after things calmed down – "

Rick felt his blood pressure spiking all over again. Even if his machines were beeping in warning, he couldn't hear it over the pounding in his ears, or the throbbing in his head. Her voice was making it worse, and her words – _why_ would she tell him this? Was it supposed to make things _better_? He wanted to throw up. It was taking everything he had to force back the vomit.

He sat up in his bed, eyes opening and anger overtaking him, and let out a yell of frustration, " _AGGHH_!" He pulled his arm back and chucked the half-empty cup in his hand across the room. It hit the white wall with a _plunk_ - _splash_ as the cup broke apart and the Peppermint Mocha spilled everywhere. Lori jolted in surprise, eyes widening in fear as she shrunk in her seat. Coffee and chocolate dribbled down the white walls, soaking a few of the Halloween paper cut-outs.

Rick let out another angry yell, " _FUCK_!" It echoed off the walls and he turned his head to glare at Lori. She was trembling, tears sliding down her cheeks and bottom lip quivering. Her hands were wringing together frantically in her lap.

"Fucking _Shane_?! Are you _kidding_ me?! _FOUR_ _ **MONTHS**_?! How the _FUCK_ did you plan on tellin' me _that_ shit?!" He was no longer in control of his words. They poured from his mouth in bursts of anger, and he slammed his hand against the railing of his bed in a fit of rage. He'd never known a fury quite like this. He'd never felt it burn so purely, so intensely, throughout his entire core. Lori jumped again, but it only made him angrier. "You fucking _whore_! You _fucked_ him, you let him come _inside_ you?! How could you fucking _do_ this to us?! Of all the fucking men in the _world_ that you could've – "

"We were in _love_ , Rick," Lori cut him off, sitting up straighter and mustering the strength to stare back at him with defiance, despite the tears pouring down her cheeks. Her words sent an icy chill through his veins and a whole new pain blossomed in his chest and his head simultaneously. He froze, mouth gaping as he stared at her indignantly. She swallowed and added, "I – I'm so _sorry_. I didn't wanna _tell_ you like this, I never meant for – "

"You're _evil_ ," Rick spat, and her mouth snapped shut as a fresh batch of tears pooled in her eyes. "You are the most horrendous _fucking_ person I've ever had the misfortune of knowing, and you _wasted_ eleven years of my _fucking_ life – I'm _leaving_. This is _over_ , you need t'pack yer shit, get the _fuck_ out of my house an' stay _away_ from me an' Carl – yer never gonna _fucking_ see him again, you realize that?!"

He didn't wait for her reaction. He could barely stand to look at her. He wanted to wrap his hands around her neck and _squeeze_ until she stopped breathing – until she stopped _lying_. Which was a scary urge in itself, because he'd never had such violent thoughts about another person, let alone his wife. But now they were flooding his brain like maggots.

He began yanking the tubes and wires from his body, pulling out the IV in a frantic rage. He was panting, black spots still fading in and out of his vision. Lori jumped to her feet and leaned over to grab him, trying to stop him from what he was doing.

"Rick, _STOP_! I didn't – I _knew_ you'd react this way, that's why I couldn't _tell_ you!" She cried, grabbing desperately for his arms and hands, fighting with him to stop him from pulling out the rest of the wires. " _Jesus_ – Nurse! _NURSE_! Somebody _**HELP**_!"

Rick elbowed Lori away from him, turning his body so she couldn't stop his hands from yanking at the tubes and wires. When he was successfully disconnected, heart monitor beeping long and loud, he shoved the blanket off himself and threw his legs over the edge, pushing Lori away the whole time as he fought to climb out of bed. But then he heard the door opening and looked to see Nurse Alden entering with a curious expression on his face.

"Hey, what's goin' – oh shit, what're you _doin'_ , dude?!" He cried, throwing the door wide open and rushing inside, yelling over his shoulder on his way in. " _PAGE EDWARDS_!"

Rick's feet had barely touched the cool floor when Alden reached him, grabbing his arms and struggling to keep him from standing up. "Get the fuck outta my way!" Rick yelled, anger rising as he realized how weak he'd become. "I want my son – _Carl_! Where's Carl? Get my son, I don't want this _fucking_ woman anywhere _near_ us!"

The anger was blinding, overwhelming – it was encompassing every inch of Rick's body. He couldn't fight it, he could only fight the enemies in front of him, struggling to swing wildly at a blurry group of adversaries. Alden struggled but he proved to be stronger than Rick for the time being, fighting to keep him on the bed and contained until back-up could arrive. The door opened and a couple of other nurses rushed in, and Lori stepped back, hand covering her mouth as she watched with teary eyes, her chest shuddering with sobs.

"What the hell _happened_?!" Alden asked, turning to Lori briefly as he allowed the other nurses to help him contain Rick.

Lori lowered her hand and tried to explain, "I – "

Rick cut her off, "She's a fucking _WHORE_ , is what happened! This lying _slut_ fucking _betrayed_ me, she _lied_ to my face an' single-handedly _destroyed_ our family!" The words burst from his mouth in a fit of uncontrollable rage, his arms still struggling against Alden and the other nurses.

Lori began sobbing again, turning away from Rick and shaking her head. Alden grunted as he struggled to fight back against Rick's newest outburst, and the other nurses were clamoring to find all the wires and tubes that had been pulled out to replace them.

Then Dr. Edwards entered the room. He stopped just inside the door, taking in the scene before him. His eyes drifted from the coffee thrown against the wall, to Rick fighting and struggling with the nurses in his bed, and finally to Lori.

"What the _hell_ is going on in here?!" Edwards asked, stunned.

Lori choked out another sob and rushed from the room, slipping out the door before it fell shut.

"Wife just revealed her affair," Alden grunted, holding down one of Rick's arms while the nurses struggled to maintain control over his other limbs. "Havin' a little tantrum, I think."

Rick yelled out angrily, " _ **AGGHH**_! Get the _fuck_ off me! I need outta here, _NOW_!"

"God dammit, I _really_ wish these people would keep their Jerry Springer shit outta my hospital," Edwards remarked bitterly, rushing over to Rick's bedside to help the nurses get him under control and reinsert his IV. "Mr. Grimes, can you _calm_ the hell down, please? This kinda stress is _really_ not good for brain trauma like yours – "

" _FUCK_ YOU!" Rick spat, glaring up at Edwards and continuing to fight the nurses, even though it was a losing battle. He was letting his pure rage take the wheel, directing his every action and word, letting out all the hateful, bitter thoughts he'd been holding in. "Yer a fuckin' _JOKE_! Get the hell away from me, you ain't _ever_ touchin' me again, you crock fuckin' _hack_ of a doctor!"

But Edwards didn't return his anger. He simply sighed and helped one of the nurses to keep Rick's arm steady while he pulled out a syringe from his pocket and uncapped it.

"Looks like you get another nap. You're _cranky_ ," Edwards said simply, injecting something into Rick's IV.

Rick growled in anger and tried to lash out again, but every last ounce of strength in his body suddenly disappeared. Momentarily, he wondered why he'd ever been so upset in the first place.

The last thing he remembered was the smug smile of satisfaction on Dr. Edwards' face, and hearing him comment snidely to Nurse Alden, "And that's how we deal with _that_. Let's get 'im fixed up again, another dose of sedatives and antipsychotics just ta be safe – get that wife outta here, too…"

Rick's eyelids grew impossibly heavy and the next thing he knew, the deep, black numbness of dreamless sleep was swallowing him up again. As he fell down, deep into the pit of unconsciousness, he heard an echo of a familiar voice ringing in his ears.

Was he standing there again, at Rick's bedside? Or was Rick recalling a conversation from a long-forgotten memory? It was Shane's voice. Almost taunting in its confidence. So conversant, so callous.

" _C'mon, man, don't act like you didn't see this comin'._ "

* * *

Rick's eyelids fluttered open and he looked around without moving his head. His entire body felt droopy and melted, and he was almost sure he could drift right back to sleep if he simply closed his eyes again. But he didn't want to. Too many hours had already passed, and he'd lost more time to unwilling unconsciousness. The TV was turned off and the room was silent except for the steady, constant sounds of all the monitors alongside Vegetable Jim's respirator. There was no longer afternoon sunlight shining in through the window. The curtain was still pulled back, but outside, the sky was dark and speckled with stars, and Rick could see the bright lights of the blurry Atlanta skyline. He couldn't tell if it was eight at night or three in the morning. The hallway outside his door seemed quieter, but he could never tell for sure from his limited view through the rectangular window and the indiscernible sounds that drifted in through the thick door.

His head ached lightly, and it grew more intense as all the memories flooded back to him. He could remember the blackness clouding his vision – it was gone now, but it felt like it could return at any moment if he let himself think about Lori for too long. He'd always heard people describe that kind of rage as "seeing red," yet he hadn't seen _any_ colors. Only black. Deep, dark, endless _black_. The same black that threatened to swallow him up whole for all of eternity, threatened to consume everything he'd ever thought he was. It nearly blinded him, nearly stole his breath as well as every last trace of logical thinking left in his brain. He'd never felt such an uncontrollable burst of emotion in his life. In a way, it terrified him.

His pulse quickened and he focused on steadying his breathing and remaining calm. But the anger was returning without much provocation, and Rick thought he might actually vomit this time. He swallowed back the bile and shook his head, flexing his fingers and toes and trying to concentrate on reactivating all his tired muscles. His throat burned and he lifted his head to look around, only to find that the nurses had cleared away all of his remaining dinner while he was sleeping. They hadn't even left his extra juice carton. And now that he was becoming fully conscious, he could feel the heaviness of his bladder.

He gathered up all his strength and managed to climb out of bed, dragging along the IV stand in his still-hazy fog. Of course, they'd reconnected him to all his tubes and wires, and now that he was thinking back on it, he felt a little ridiculous for reacting the way he had. But he'd been completely unable to control it. When had that ever happened before? One of the things Rick prided himself on was his ability to maintain a calm attitude under pressure – to contain his anger, control his outbursts. He'd never been one to throw things or break stuff during angry outbursts. He'd always been vocal, and he could argue for days, especially when it came to Lori. But lashing out like that? _Never_. And he'd always been the voice of reason when it came to him and Shane. Rick was the level-headed, well-maintained cop, while Shane had been something closer to what might be described as a "loose cannon."

Had Rick picked up on Shane's worst traits? Had Lori finally pushed him over the edge, into a mindset of uncontrollable emotional outbursts and unbridled rage? Was Rick going to find himself ending up just like all those men who destroyed property and hurt people just because they were upset? Or was his brain damaged from the lamp that Maggie Greene had slammed into his skull? And if it was… what if Edwards saw the outburst and recognized it as brain damage? What if he decided that Rick needed to stay in the hospital longer? Or endure more intense treatment of some sort?

No matter what any of it meant, Rick knew one thing for sure: he'd have to hold it in. All of it. He had no choice but to stow it away deep down and lock it up. He could keep it under control, he'd just have to put extra effort into maintaining his composure, and then covering it up when it grew uncontrollable. He knew that if he let all this shit come out, it could impede his progress. It could prevent him from getting out, from getting back to work and helping bring justice to the Greene Family. To Shane.

 _Fucking Shane,_ he thought. _Should I even give a shit about justice for that lyin' asshole anymore?_

There was a prevalent throb in the right side of his head as he left the bathroom – having avoided looking in the mirror – and walked to the sink to get himself a small cup of water. He hated thinking about this new revelation that had been dropped on him. Finding out that Lori had betrayed him was one thing. But finding out that Shane had betrayed him, too? What was Rick supposed to fight for anymore? Carl was his only remaining purpose at this point. Could he keep it together long enough for his son? Or would everything overwhelm Rick and _force_ him to succumb to his weaknesses? To his inevitable _madness_? Would Lori try to take Carl away? Surely no court would allow her to do such a thing. But then again, he knew from years of observation that courts tended to favor the mothers. So maybe he could somehow try to get past it? Maybe they could possibly work through Lori's huge mistake and find a way to be a happily married couple again?

But no sooner than those thoughts had entered Rick's head, he scowled and thought to himself, _'S more likely that Hell will freeze over._

He ignored the aching in his head and walked back to bed, finding the photo of Lori and Carl lying in the middle of the white sheets. It had been moved during his struggle earlier, and he quickly snatched it up and shoved it under the pillow. Just catching a glance of it had made his stomach turn. Then he climbed carefully back into bed and lay down, still fighting the foggy feeling that wouldn't leave his mind. He suddenly remembered that his cell phone was nearby and looked around for it, wondering what Edwards had given him to make his brain feel so similar to scrambled eggs.

Rick finally found his phone sitting on the bedside table, pushed behind the black shower bag that Lori had brought. As he leaned over the bed railing to reach out and grab his phone, he saw something from the corner of his eye. He turned his head, arm still outreached, to look across the room at the wall that was still stained with coffee. For the briefest moment – almost too brief to even notice – Rick saw Shane leaning against the wall. He was wearing the same clothes as when he'd appeared the night before, but the expression on his face seemed different. However, he disappeared before Rick could focus or take in every feature, and it was so quick that he was sure it had been a trick of the light. Or, more likely, another side effect of his disorientation. He told himself it was delirium, from all the sedatives and the emotional exhaustion he'd experienced already.

With his phone in his hands, lying back against the slightly raised top half of his bed, Rick unlocked the screen and discovered that it was nearly eleven p.m. His jaw clenched at the realization of how many hours he'd lost. It was too late to try calling and talking to Carl on the phone, which was all he _really_ wanted to do. Then he found notifications waiting for him. None of them were from Lori, which made him both disappointed and thankful at the same time. However, his brother, Jeff, had tried to call around seven p.m., and there was a text message from Dawn Lerner. Rick knew it was too late to call Jeff back tonight, but Dawn's text had arrived less than two hours ago. He quickly opened it and read:

 _Feeling up to talking? I can stop by the hospital tonight. If not, let me know when._

His heartbeat picked up as he recalled what Edwards had told him hours before, about Dawn stopping by. Rick quickly typed out a response, struggling to squint down at the tiny letters on the screen and tap the correct spots. It made his head throb even harder. But he finally managed to send a response that said, " _Is it too late? Just woke up from nap._ "

He set his phone down and closed his eyes, focusing on breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to will away the pain in his head. But the beeps of the machines and Vegetable Jim's incessant respirator were beginning to sound annoying in his ears and grate on his nerves. He gritted his teeth and opened his eyes, searching around the for the remote. When he found it, he quickly turned on the TV and turned up the volume until the sounds of an infomercial were drowning out the beeps and mechanical breathing. Then he flipped through the channels until he found something that wasn't screaming at him to _buy, buy, buy_.

But Rick hadn't settled in and focused on the television for more than five minutes when he heard the door opening. He expected a nurse, maybe that Alden guy or someone new. But he was surprised to see Dr. Edwards enter the room, walking slower than Rick was used to. The doctor appeared tired and worn-down, and when the men looked and met each other's eyes, Rick could see the exhaustion in his face. Nevertheless, Rick's jaw clenched, and he was already studying Edwards' lab coat, trying to figure out which pocket the syringe would emerge from.

"So – are those outbursts normal for you? Have you always had anger management issues, or is this new?" Dr. Edwards asked, speaking loud enough that Rick could hear him over the TV.

Rick remembered how he'd lashed out at the doctor before – and he wasn't about to apologize for it. It wasn't like he _regretted_ what he'd said. It was just something that he wouldn't normally let slip out. His nostrils flared and despite his quickly growing aggravation, he turned down the TV. But only because Edwards' voice was even more annoying when it was loud. Rick followed the doctor with his eyes, watching him move to check the chart at the end of the bed before bringing it with him over to the bedside.

"'Course they ain't _normal_ fer me," Rick snapped, unable to suppress the scowl on his face. "Ain't ever been told that my wife's pregnant with my dead best friend's baby. How d'you think _you'd_ react?"

Edwards' eyes briefly widened and he quickly cleared his throat nervously, avoiding Rick's eyes and looking around at the monitors and the chart in his hands instead, jotting down notes. He replied uneasily, "Right, well… I suppose there are exceptions." He paused and scribbled something else down, then flicked his eyes up to meet Rick's glare through his glasses. He cleared his throat again. "However, if you find yourself feeling _rage_ , or experiencing inexplicable outbursts that don't have anything t'do with your failing marriage, you need ta let me know. It could be a sign – "

"Why?" Rick interrupted. "So you can keep me here longer? Pump me full a more mystery drugs an' rack up my medical bills even higher?"

Edwards frowned and sighed lightly, glancing down and making another note on the chart. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "No, Mr. Grimes. So I can make sure you don't end up _killing_ someone – or _yourself_ – due to untreated brain damage. I don't work on commission, by the way. Having you here longer than you need t'be isn't my goal. You're not exactly the most _enjoyable_ patient I've ever had."

Rick tried to ignore the surge of panic that briefly washed over him. _Kill_ someone? He would _never_. He'd thrown a coffee – it wasn't like he'd _hit_ Lori or something. What the hell kind of brain damage had this doctor seen during his career, anyway? The kind that turned a mild-mannered, level-headed family man into an enraged murderer? Rick was having a hard time believing that was even possible.

His scowl deepened. "Right. So, what – you think that lamp did enough damage ta make me inta some kinda mad man? Like I could snap at any moment?" He bit back the taunting tone that wanted to emerge in his words. As much as he hated Edwards, he also needed answers. _Real_ answers. He needed to know what he should be prepared for… and what he should keep to himself when it came to symptoms or side effects.

Edwards shrugged and tucked his pen back into the pocket of his lab coat, stepping over and returning the chart to its slip at the end of the bed. He talked as he moved about and double-checked the monitors and Rick's IV. "Not necessarily. Sometimes it's a slow build-up. I've seen people wake up from brain trauma with completely opposite temperaments – sweet, kind, adventurous people who became anger monsters, or depressed hermits. I've also seen people recover and leave the hospital, smiling and happy and completely healthy. Only t'find out that they went home and killed their families a month later, or hung themselves in their kids' closet… The brain is a _fickle_ organ, Mr. Grimes. Even the slightest amount of damage can have life-altering consequences."

A chill ran down Rick's spine and he fought the urge to visibly wince. There was a fear forming in his core, slowly growing and spreading through his body. Could Edwards be right? What if Rick was going to end up as one of those cases? What if that edging blackness eventually won and swallowed him up whole, leaving only a shell of the man that Rick Grimes used to be? He would have to do everything in his power to fight it.

"Either way – you shouldn't be trying t'deal with so much emotional and mental stress this early in your recovery," Dr. Edwards continued simply, reaching a hand into one of the pockets of his lab coat and rummaging around for something. "It's not gonna help you any. And as far as _mystery drugs_ go – they're just sedatives. You can relax. I gave you the same thing today that I gave you last night, just different doses. Trust me, you _needed_ them." He arched an eyebrow smugly. "Now, how's yer head feel? I'm about t'head home, so if you want something for the pain, it's yer last chance for the next eight hours."

Rick swallowed back the angry retort that wanted to pour from his mouth, clenching his jaw and watching the doctor pull a syringe from his pocket. He was waiting for a response before uncapping it. Rick shrugged and looked away, gazing blankly at the TV mounted on the opposite wall. "Might as well. Long as it ain't any more a those _sedatives_."

Edwards made a sound in his throat that might've resembled a half-chuckle if he hadn't nervously cleared his throat halfway through to cover it. Then he shook his head lightly and uncapped the syringe, focusing on Rick's IV as he carefully injected the medicine. "No – it's not. But you'll probably get drowsy in the next hour. Morphine tends to have that effect. And I can't really give you anything else besides acetaminophen, which won't do much for that headache I _know_ you have."

Well, at least this guy knew about the pain without having to be told, and was acknowledging it. Rick stared up at the TV and pursed his lips as he felt the injection enter his bloodstream and course through his veins. Almost instantly, a wave of relief was washing over him and the pain in his head was gradually subsiding, as were all the sour retorts he'd wanted to make. He took in a deep breath and felt his jaw unclench, muscles relaxing. Edwards disposed of the used syringe, then checked the monitors once more before stepping away.

"Phyllis comes back tomorrow and, as much as this might upset you, I'm barring your wife from visiting for the time being," the doctor said simply. "You need to rest, and I don't just mean physically. As far as any other visitors go, _especially_ Lerner – the first sign of heightened stress, and I'll have a nurse in here ta escort them out. It's gonna be the _epitome_ of _zen_ in here, Mr. Grimes. See you tomorrow."

And with that, Edwards was briskly striding across the room and leaving, before Rick even had the chance to process what he'd said and form a response, let alone get upset about it. The morphine injection had already relaxed him to the point of slightly delayed reaction, and by the time he found the willpower to open his mouth, the door was falling shut and Dr. Edwards had disappeared out into the hall.

And he was right – that news _did_ upset Rick. But for the time being, there was no attainable motivation to help him voice his grievances. Besides, the doctor was already gone, on his way home for the night. So Rick would only be bitching to Vegetable Jim. And understandably, Jim didn't give a shit about Rick's problems. He had more than enough of his own.

With his newfound relief from the throbbing in his head, Rick picked up the remote and began flipping through the channels on the TV. He searched for news reports, and when he didn't find any, he searched for football scores. Once he'd grown bored with that, and once the residual aching in his head had become practically non-existent thanks to the morphine, he turned the TV off and reached over to grab his phone, unlocking the screen and checking for notifications.

There was a new text from Lerner waiting for him. He hadn't heard the vibration of his phone over the sound of the TV and Edwards' annoying voice. Rick quickly opened it and read:

 _Be there in thirty minutes._

His heart sped up momentarily and he double-checked the time stamp. If Dawn's estimate was correct, and she didn't get held up by traffic or whatever else, then she'd be arriving in about fifteen minutes or less. He quickly typed out a response, " _See you soon_." And pressed Send.

The next twenty minutes were spent in giddy anticipation. Rick was eager to see Dawn, to hear what she had to say, to get some real fucking _answers_ for once. He was also eager for a distraction from his "failing marriage," as Edwards had so eloquently put it. The way Rick saw it, once Dawn visited and gave him more information, he could get back to focusing on work; focusing on the things that _really_ mattered, like the Greene case and what part he would have to play in the upcoming trial. And maybe he could get some clarity on what happened that night, and start searching for clues as to where that horrid Beth girl could have run off to.

He'd already decided that if she wasn't caught by the time he was released, he'd just do it his damn self. He'd never been able to rely on his fellow members of law enforcement to really get things done, anyway. They couldn't even find a missing kid most of the time, let alone a runaway fugitive wanted for murder.

 _If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself,_ Rick thought.

The age-old adage that his father had always preached. It was one of those things that ingrained itself into Rick's mind at an early age, made him want to be a leader of other men and a guiding light for the lost. It affirmed his silent assumptions that no one really _got it_ like he did, and that if he wanted real answers and real solutions, he would have to pursue them himself. Because not everyone cared the way he cared. And not everyone saw what he saw. It was one of the things that made him such a good cop, as well as a good father. He'd thought it made him a good husband, too. But apparently, he'd been wrong about that part.

While Rick waited for Dawn to arrive, he occupied himself with looking up the scores for the football games he'd missed while he was sleeping. He was disappointed, but not surprised, to find that the Falcons had indeed lost to the Bills. But he told himself it was still early in the season and there were plenty more games to see. There were also a few months left for them to make the play-offs. It wasn't entirely impossible. But damn, what he wouldn't give to be sitting in a bar and watching a football game with Shane again.

 _Fucking Shane,_ he thought bitterly. The bursts of emotion swirling in his chest were so confusing, because he couldn't stop himself from reminiscing and missing his best friend and partner. But at the same time, he wanted to _hate_ Shane for what he'd done. Rick felt impossibly betrayed and wronged. Yet he couldn't push back the aching that formed in his chest when he thought about Shane lying on that floor, cold and lifeless. He was _dead_. And the worst part was that Rick couldn't even confront him about having an affair with Lori. He was gone forever, never coming back. And all the secrets he'd been keeping were gone with him. No explanation, no reasoning, _nothing_. Just gone.

At the same time, Rick felt that he should probably be more angry at Lori. _She_ was the one that had taken the vows, after all. _She_ was the one that had stepped out of their marriage, gone searching for solace in the arms of another man. And his best friend, no less. Who _was_ this woman? Rick was officially shaken to his core by the realization that he didn't know Lori at all anymore. She definitely wasn't the woman he'd married. But then again, Shane was his best friend. His _partner_. Shane had been the best man at Rick and Lori's wedding. Maybe Rick hadn't really known _him_ , either.

Had he really been surrounded by strangers this _whole time_? Had he been sleeping next to, riding next to, confiding in a bunch of wolves dressed in sheep's clothing?

He couldn't help but begin to wonder who _else_ could be betraying him. What if Lori's infidelity was only the beginning? What if Rick had the wool pulled over his eyes for so long, remaining oblivious to what was going on around him, that everyone else had found ways to take advantage of him, too? Of his trusting nature? Of his natural penchant for giving people the benefit of the doubt?

 _No fucking more,_ he thought to himself, a slight scowl tugging at his upper lip from the foul ideas forming in his head.

Rick had just begun scrolling through more Google search results for news articles on the Greene case when his door opened. He quickly looked up and set his phone aside, watching Dawn Lerner cross the hospital room and approach his bedside silently. She glanced at Vegetable Jim in passing, frowning lightly at the sight, but her face went back to its usual stoic expression by the time she reached Rick's bedside.

She looked exactly as she always did – dark brown hair pulled back in a tight bun, moderate but flawless makeup, and an impeccably cleaned and ironed pantsuit in a dark shade of gray. Despite her mild OCD, Lerner couldn't hide the heavy bags under her eyes, or the light pink rash on the top of her left hand that meant she was under extreme stress. Rick immediately spotted all the little details he'd grown used to searching for to give him a clue as to how Dawn was feeling, or what she was thinking. She had a terrible habit of letting her frustration or aggravation affect her work performance, and he'd always tried to be a step ahead. This time, he hoped it would give him a clue as to what kind of things she might be about to tell him.

Or what kinds of things she _wasn't_ telling him.

"Wow. You're really awake," Dawn marveled, staring at Rick as if transfixed. She was one of the only people close to Rick who didn't have a southern accent due to the fact that she'd grown up in a small town in Colorado, and sometimes, it still sounded slightly foreign to his ears. Her voice was clear and steady, despite the fact that he knew she was still trying to process the fact that he'd actually _survived_ , and Shane hadn't. She crossed her arms over her chest and rested her weight on one foot, refusing to tear her eyes away from him. Wide, slightly bloodshot, azure eyes.

It was exactly the reaction he'd expected from her. She wasn't one to get emotional or openly express herself. But he could see the shock in her face. And the relief. He also saw the tension in her shoulders. The exhaustion in her stance.

Rick shrugged. "Kinda wish I wasn't."

Dawn furrowed her brow but then she glanced over at Vegetable Jim's bed behind the navy curtain pointedly and asked, "I see they gave you a roommate. Doesn't look like he's much company, though."

Rick shook his head. "Persistive vegetative state. Family's workin' on pullin' the plug, I guess."

She shook her head and _tsk_ ed, eyes lingering for a moment on the bed across the room as she muttered flatly, "Damn shame."

"Coulda been me," Rick said casually. "Hope you got some kinda good news for me. 'S been a rough day."

She creased her brow and asked, "Rough day in the hospital? What, they wouldn't let you _sleep_?"

He smirked weakly and shook his head, muttering, "If only it was that simple." Then he gestured toward the chair sitting nearby. "Get comfortable. Stay awhile. We got a lot ta catch up on."

Dawn glanced at the chair and shrugged, then looked over her shoulder toward the door before meeting Rick's gaze again. "I dunno. Nurse didn't seem too happy that I was here after visiting hours. I think flashing the badge only bought me about ten minutes."

Rick frowned. "Yeah. Asshole doctor ain't lettin' me have many visitors. Said he doesn't want me havin' so much _emotional and mental stress_. Whatever the hell that means…"

Dawn scoffed and shook her head. "I think asshole is the _nicest_ word I'd use to describe Edwards. But I can't say that I don't agree… You took some serious damage that night. I wasn't even sure you'd wake up."

Rick blinked and swallowed, watching a shadow of fear cross Lerner's face. She really _had_ been worried that he wouldn't wake up. He understood, though. She didn't handle loss well. As was evident in her appearance, even now. "Yeah, well – I did. I'm here, an' I'm alright. But I don't remember anything useful. An' I feel like I'm bein' kept in the dark."

She arched an eyebrow and asked, "About what?"

" _Everything_. Lori barely told me shit about what's goin' on with the case, an' I couldn't find hardly any information in the news reports. Like – that Jimmy kid _died_. The one me an' Shane questioned. What the hell's goin' on with that? And do we even have anybody on Beth Greene's trail? Are they doin' _anything_ to find the girl that _killed_ my partner?"

Dawn pressed her lips tightly together and glanced down at her shoes for a moment, appearing to be thinking about what she wanted to say. Then she met Rick's gaze again and sighed. Her voice matched the exhaustion on her face. "It doesn't matter, really. None of it matters anymore. We're off the case entirely. The DEA and FBI swooped in and took it out of our hands as soon as we got the cuffs on."

"I figured," Rick said. "But that don't mean we can't _do_ somethin'. _We_ were the ones workin' this case fer all those months, _we're_ the ones that investigated the murders and got all the leads. Shit, I could prob'ly track that Beth girl on my own faster than all those government goons _combined_."

Dawn shook her head and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "It doesn't _matter_ , Grimes. It's out of our hands. It's not my case anymore, and it's _definitely_ not yours. You know there's nothing we can do."

The morphine coursing through his system was the only thing keeping him calm at the moment. He wanted to argue and get defensive, he wanted to call Lerner out for being a spineless bootlicker. But he didn't. The blaze of anger that would normally be coming to life in his belly just wasn't burning tonight. He was frustrated, but he could tell that he wasn't going to get any help from Dawn. She'd always been a strictly by-the-book type of officer. He respected her for it. But he also knew that it wouldn't get results, especially in a situation like this.

He should've known better than to expect any kind of support from her. He still wasn't sure that she wasn't keeping something important from him, or lying about something.

She sighed and spoke softer, "I'm not happy about it, either. _Believe_ me. As soon as the feds rolled up, I knew it'd be a disaster. But I didn't expect all _this_." She glanced away almost nervously and licked her lips, hesitating. Then she met his eyes again and explained, "They took the case from us, all the suspects, they even took our _clearance_. And they shut the crime scene down way too early. There's no way they got every piece of evidence. They didn't even look into the connections with the Greene murders – I haven't seen Simon since he was bailed out. _No one_ has. Still absolutely zero trace of Randall. The feds don't give a shit about the murder case. They cleared out the drugs and the paraphernalia, all the money, and whatever paperwork they could find. Everything else is just _sitting_ there. Waiting t'be picked over by all the media vultures. Those government assholes have _no_ _idea_ what they're in for with this case. And they won't let us _near_ it… I've been transferred. So has Nelson, Chavez, Bellman – anybody with so much as half a horse in the race."

Rick sat back, stunned, trying to absorb all the information. Finally getting some answers was both relieving and upsetting. It was also a bit overwhelming. He furrowed his brow and studied Dawn's expression, saw the frustration and anger in the faint lines on her face. Transferred? So it _had_ been true – she really was his former boss. They would no longer be working together. " _Transferred_? Where?"

Dawn's arms tightened across her chest and she cleared her throat before answering, "Savannah."

Rick's eyes widened. " _Savannah_? Jesus – are you at least gonna be Sergeant down there?"

"No. It's just a transfer."

"What – I thought you were s'posed ta get Sergeant once we had the Greene's in custody. What happened ta that?"

Dawn pursed her lips and glanced down at her shoes for a long moment, mumbling a reply, "Yeah, well… guess there's a lot more red tape than we thought."

Rick's head was racing with a hundred different thoughts at once. He had so many more questions now. And it was frustrating because he'd wanted answers, but now that he had them, it only left him wanting _more_. And he could tell she wasn't up to explaining much else. He'd worked with her long enough that he could nearly read her like a book. He'd also worked with her long enough to know that there was absolutely no use in pushing Dawn Lerner to do what she didn't want to do, or to discuss what she didn't want to discuss, because she was stubborn as a damn mule. Worse, even. Especially since she'd been gipped out of the promotion that he _knew_ she'd poured endless hours of work into attaining. Understandably, she was upset, maybe even hurt. So he would have to choose what was most important to him for the time being, while he could still get anything out of her.

"They shut the crime scene down? How? It's only been a month – that farm's _huge_. Did they even search the church? Or the woods north a the farmhouse?" He asked, unable to stop the stream of questions pouring from his mouth in his slight morphine haze.

Dawn pressed her lips together tightly and exhaled through her nose. One of her hands fidgeted with the seam of her shirt sleeve as she replied, "The farm, the church, the whole property – they left it. Said they got everything they needed. I dunno. Eastman told me he wanted to take more samples for forensic testing, but his team could only get so much done in the little bit of time the feds gave them." Eastman: the lead forensic investigator on the Greene case. Rick briefly wondered if he was being transferred, too. Dawn continued, "And we don't have any access to whatever they collected. Not that it's much – Eastman also said he wanted to inspect all the barns and stables, but he didn't have time, and from what he told me, the feds didn't even _touch_ anything outside of the farmhouse."

Rick chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek. His blood pressure would probably be through the roof right now if it weren't for the morphine in his system. It didn't allow him to become heavy with emotions just yet. All he could do was think and think and think. His mind was racing. He wanted to talk to Eastman himself, but in all honesty, Rick barely knew the guy.

"So, what – they _closed_ the Greene murder case? Completely? An' Simon's disappeared now, too?" Rick asked, blinking in bewilderment as he tried to comprehend everything that was being pieced together in his head. "So they could be out there, together, killin' more people? An' the feds don't care, as long as we got the Greene operation shut down…"

Dawn glanced down at her shoes and nodded grimly. "That's the government for you. The _War On Drugs_ and all that. You know how it is, Grimes."

Rick scoffed and shook his head, waiting for Lerner to meet his eyes again before he asked, "An' you don't think that's strange? A little more'an suspicious? With everything we know, everythin' we found out over the last six months – you really think that's just how the system _works_?"

He saw the flicker of recognition in her gaze, but as soon as it appeared, it faded away. Her jaw clenched slightly and she replied stiffly, "Maybe not. But there's nothing we can do about it now. Whatever theories we might've had are _irrelevant_. Let's just be grateful that the Greene's will be locked up."

Rick furrowed his brow, his frustration growing so intense that even his morphine haze couldn't keep it numbed. "What – you an' I _both_ know those Greene's are guilty of a helluva lot more than they're bein' charged. After all the goddamn work we put into that case, after all the incriminating evidence we collected, you really think _nobody's_ gonna care? If Simon disappeared like that Randall kid, then maybe he was _killed_ for gettin' caught. Maybe _Hershel_ caught 'im an' killed him! Or maybe it was whoever sent 'em to the Greene house in the first place, and – "

"Rick, _stop_ ," Lerner cut him off abruptly, voice rising to an almost strict-mother-like tone. He stopped and stared back at her indignantly to see her lips pressed into a thin line, jaw muscles tensing, eyebrows raised. "There's _no one else_ out there… Look, you've got way too much time on your hands to be sitting here in bed, thinking about all those crazy theories you had before the bust. It's not _healthy_. You need to _move on_."

Rick gritted his teeth. The morphine prevented him from raising his voice angrily, though his tone was sounding more agitated as he argued, "That's bullshit. Y'all _knew_ I was onto somethin'. Why the hell wouldn't the feds wanna track down the guy Hershel was workin' for? What if it's a-a whole other operation? What if Hershel was just – "

"I am _not_ discussing this! I _told_ you to stop, and I've _been_ telling you to stop since we arrested Simon," Dawn snapped. "You have to let it go. Even _Walsh_ tried to tell you to stop – why would you keep reaching for something that none of your colleagues think is credible? It's reckless and _foolish_."

He bit his tongue and glared back at her. _That's right, Shane didn't believe me either. Told me my instincts were off,_ Rick thought sourly. _An' he was sleeping with my_ _ **wife**_ _behind my back. So what are_ _ **you**_ _coverin' up? Why are you suddenly acting like you never believed me, when I_ _ **know**_ _you did? When I know you_ _ **do**_ _. But you won't do nothin'. 'Cause yer spineless._

She continued, voice heavy with exhaustion, "There's no one else, Grimes. Hershel Greene is a greedy, evil, old man who used his family, friends, and resources to operate a multi-million dollar meth operation. He was a kingpin, and we _got him_. Our work is done. It might not feel satisfying now, but maybe that will change once the family is sentenced – or maybe not. Whatever happens, you need to learn to live with the outcome. Just like the _rest_ of us have."

"You sound just as vague as all the goddamn news reports – spewin' that line like you been rehearsin' it fer the last month," Rick said, scowling. "Like you actually _believe_ it. You're nothin' more than an _enabler_ if yer really pretendin' not ta see it, Lerner. I know you got better instincts than that."

 _And to think… I used ta respect you,_ he thought.

Lerner glanced away briefly and cleared her throat, and Rick wasn't sure, but he thought he could see her blinking back a tear or two. Yet her voice came out flat and bitter, "' _Enabler'_? You must not have had time to read much news, because _you_ sound like that reporter bitch who can't keep her nose out of confidential business. What's next? Are you gonna try to tell me that the Greene girls were just sad, defenseless kids who had no choice but to _kill_ one officer and assault another?"

He furrowed his brow, thinking back to the news articles he'd read. But he couldn't figure out what she was referring to. He stared back with a quizzical expression, his frustration disappearing momentarily. "What – what 'reporter bitch'? Why the hell would I _ever_ think somethin' like that? I want that _whole_ Greene family behind bars, I jus' think there's somebody above them that we need ta be goin' after, too. All that shit didn't add up, an' you _know_ it. What if there's somebody else that could lead us ta findin' Beth?"

Dawn sighed and rolled her eyes, arms tightening across her chest and weight shifting from one foot to the other. She shook her head and said, "It's not likely. But all I _know_ is that you're _wrong_. Don't waste your energy or talents on something that's just gonna turn into a dead-end. You can't even get back to work anytime soon, anyway, so there's no point in worrying about it."

"I'm only gonna be in here fer a week," Rick said, assuming she was referring to the fact that he was laid up in the hospital.

"That's great," she said, arching an eyebrow. "But I already recommended that my replacement put you on paid leave. Indefinitely. Once the Greene case wraps up and you have the proper medical clearance, you can get back to work. You can start putting your efforts toward a _new_ case. Until then, you need to stay out of it. Sit at home and wait for a subpoena. It's all you _can_ do."

 _You fucking cunt,_ he immediately thought. But, admittedly, he didn't have the energy to fully express his discontent.

The scowl remained heavy on his lips, and he grumbled in response, "'S a _lot_ more I can do. Paid leave ain't gonna stop me."

Dawn's frown deepened and she gave him a stern look. " _Don't_. The paid leave is purely for your own good – don't endanger yourself or your family by going rogue or trying to be some kind of _vigilante_. Edwards might be a prick, but he's a good doctor. Follow his orders and take some time for yourself. Maybe look into some grief counseling or something."

A wave of morphine washed over him and he swallowed back the sudden rise of bile in his throat. His head swam momentarily and he blinked away the edging blackness in the corners of his vision. Then he quickly shook his head and looked away, toward the window. " _Counseling_? Didn't help you none. Why would I bother."

She sighed in frustration. "Then don't. Whatever. I was hoping our first conversation in over a month would be a little more _pleasant_ than this, but I really don't know what else you expect me to tell you, Grimes."

Rick scoffed and continued gazing blankly at the open window and the blurry city lights behind it. "Shane's dead an' I was almost right there with him. What part a this coulda possibly been pleasant? Nobody wants ta give me a straight goddamn answer about _nothin'_. That's all I'm fuckin' asking for."

"Like what? I just told you _everything_ I know," Dawn said. "I've been off the case for weeks, Grimes. What else do you expect you're gonna find out? From _any_ of us?"

"How the _fuck_ did a teenaged girl _kill_ my partner and then _disappear_?!" Rick burst, sitting up in bed and turning to see Dawn's surprised expression, caught off-guard by his raised voice. "Why the hell ain't that _shit_ all over the goddamn news? Why aren't we out there _lookin'_ for her? Why aren't we usin' every _fuckin'_ thing we found out about that family to _find_ that evil little bitch?! Why doesn't anybody _**CARE**_?!"

Lerner's mouth fell open and she took half a step back, clearly taken aback by his angry outburst. Rick took in a deep breath and realized his hands had balled into fists at his sides. He made a conscious effort to relax his muscles, tried to will the morphine to wash over him again and still the rage that was blazing to life in his belly. But he was at the end of his rope. He was sick and tired of the mind games and the vague answers, the excuses everyone was making about the entire situation. He was fed up with talking in circles and coming back to the same questions over and over _and_ _over_ again.

"They _do care_ ," her voice was shaky but she quickly retained her composure as her back stiffened, gaze unflinching from his. "They're looking for her. It takes time, Grimes. She's smart – she was _bred_ for this kind of thing. Remember what we saw and what we learned; we _know_ that family is cunning. So is Beth Greene. Her father _raised_ her that way. They trained her to be _lethal_. But we will find her. She's just like them – she'll slip up. She'll make a mistake. There's no _way_ she's escaped the country yet. There's still time. Once it goes national, and her face starts showing up on people's TVs and Facebook feeds, it's only a matter of _days_ until she's caught. But it's not _your_ problem to worry about. I know Walsh was your partner and your best friend, but it's _out_ of our hands. _All_ of our hands."

A knot formed in Rick's throat and he saw a flash of movement outside the small rectangular window of his door from the corner of his eye. A sense of panic struck him and he realized the nurses would probably be entering any moment, prepared to make Lerner leave after hearing his little outburst. _Fuck_ , why couldn't he contain his anger anymore? He still had so many goddamn questions.

Dawn glanced toward the door and shifted uncomfortably where she stood, but before she could say anything, Rick asked, "An' how do you know it'll happen that way? It's been a _month_. If it ain't caught onto national news yet, what makes you think it will? How're they gonna spread out their search wide enough ta find her before she's gone fer good?"

Lerner shook her head. "Trust me, it will. Sometimes these cases don't pick up attention until months into the court proceedings, once people have a trial to watch and a recognizable face to put on the front of it. And now that you're awake, you're gonna wanna _prepare_ yourself. They can keep the media out of the hospital, but once you're home, the journalists and paparazzi will start swarming you like buzzards, trying to dig up every little ounce of dirt they can get their hands on. Whether it pertains to the Greene's sentencing or _not_."

Rick's head swam with this information, confused by the ominous assurance in her voice. How could she be so confident about it? What did she know that he didn't? He still wasn't convinced that the case would pick up steam, let alone enough to constitute swarms of journalists and _paparazzi_. Honestly, he never had been. Shane had been so sure that the Greene bust would end up being some kind of media sensation, and every news station in the state of Georgia would want interviews with the two detectives who so bravely crossed enemy lines in the name of justice. But Rick had just never been convinced. He knew that, without a scandal of some kind, the general public usually didn't give a shit. And so far, he was being proven right. Because a cop getting killed and another cop being assaulted wasn't so much a scandal as it was an everyday occurrence.

"An' that reporter bitch? Who's that?" He asked, the sounds of voices outside his door drifting into the room.

Dawn heard them, too, as she glanced toward the door again. She quickly replied with an arched eyebrow, "Jenny Jones? You didn't read her articles yet?"

Rick furrowed his brow. "Nah – ain't had much of a chance ta read everythin'. What's the big deal? Why's everybody talk like she's harassin' my family? She the one that's been showin' up outside my door every day?"

Dawn appeared surprised at this news, but then her face fell with slight disappointment and she shrugged, frowning. "She probably is. She's already making _all_ of us look bad with the bullshit she's said about that Cline kid. She's trying to drag all of us through the mud, Grimes. Don't give her the time of day if she corners you. She's bad news, and she's got a shady record to prove it."

Rick opened his mouth to ask her to elaborate, but then the door opened and a nurse entered the room, interrupting. "Okay, time ta go! It's very late, an' Mr. Grimes doesn't need whatever kinda nonsense is goin' on in here."

He ignored the nurse approaching Lerner as he asked, "What does that even _mean_? What the _hell_ happened with that Cline kid? I need more ta go on than this, Lerner. Me an' Shane _questioned_ that kid!"

Dawn shook her head and held a hand out when the nurse approached and tried to reach out to grab her arm. She turned to Rick and told him, "Don't _worry_ about it right now. Just prepare yourself for when you get outta the hospital, okay? This case is gonna bring a lot of pressure with it, and some people are _not_ in it for the greater good, they're just trying to benefit _themselves_."

The nurse stepped in between Lerner and Rick's bed, interrupting, "Okay! Time to go, Detective. Whatever y'all have ta talk about can wait until _after_ he's released."

Lerner rolled her eyes and stepped away from the nurse, flashing a look of disgust. The nurse reached out and gently took her arm, but Dawn quickly shook it from the nurse's grasp with a scowl. "I'm _going_. Don't touch me."

Rick tried to protest but he was ignored as the nurse led Dawn to the door, urging her to leave. He felt like a child by the way he was being silenced and overruled.

"I'm leaving in the morning, Grimes," Dawn called over her shoulder. "I don't know when I'll see you again, but call me when you get released. Just listen to Edwards and _don't_ endanger yourself over something you have _no_ control over!"

Rick tried to respond, but he was cut off by the door falling shut as the two women left the room. And then he was alone again, with a million more questions forming in his head and a deep pit of dissatisfaction opening up at the bottom of his stomach. The pain in the right side of his head was making a reappearance, starting out as a dull ache and slowly progressing into its usual throbbing.

He reached over and grabbed his phone, immediately opening up the browser app and returning to the list of news reports about the Greene case. He entered a new term into the search bar: _Jenny Jones Greene family._

His heart sped up as the results produced a list, and the first listed were articles specifically about Beth Greene and the case that had taken the life of Rick's partner and best friend. But before he could press his finger down on one of the links, he heard the door to his room opening again, and he looked up. A different nurse entered, a blonde woman he'd never seen before. She crossed the room briskly and silently, reaching his bedside before he could so much as blink.

"No more of _that_ tonight, Mr. Grimes," the nurse told him sternly, reaching out and grabbing his hand to pull it closer so she could access his IV. "I knew I shouldn't've let her in here. Edwards told me ta make sure you rest - an' that's _exactly_ what I'm gonna do."

Before Rick could protest or fully comprehend what the nurse was doing, he saw her pull out a syringe and swiftly inject it into his IV. He immediately panicked and jerked his hand away, but it was too late. She was finished, and though she gave him a disgruntled look when he pulled away, she didn't seem to care since she was pulling the syringe out anyway. Then she disposed of the used needle and stepped away.

"Get some damn _sleep_ already," she muttered, leaving the room just as suddenly as she'd entered.

Rick wanted to protest, wanted to yell at her or call after her. But she was gone before he had the chance, and he was already feeling the injection coursing through his system. He could only guess it was another dose of sedatives. Which would've sent him into a whole other fit of panic and rage if it weren't for the fact that all his muscles were suddenly very weak, and just keeping his eyelids raised was exerting more energy than he possessed.

He looked down at the phone still resting in his hands, the screen displaying the Jenny Jones news articles that he'd searched for, and possibly the answers he so desperately craved. But his hand was lying useless and numb in his lap, phone loosely clutched in his palm, and his vision was quickly growing blurry. As was any sense of motivation to find answers. Or even to be upset.

What _had_ he been so upset about, anyway? He suddenly couldn't remember.

His eyelids were drooping, growing heavier and heavier by the second, and he struggled to grasp onto consciousness. He was also struggling to grasp reality, his mind filling with fog and confusion. But then a sound filled his ears – a familiar laugh, low and chuckling. He found just enough energy to turn his head and look toward the direction that the sound seemed to be coming from.

Despite his blurry vision, and the familiar blackness that was slowly creeping up around the edges of his sight, Rick could see Shane leaning against the wall. Standing in the same place he'd been the night before. But he was dressed differently this time: dark jeans, Nike sneakers, and an Atlanta Falcons jersey. Rick immediately recognized it as Shane's "lucky" jersey that he wore every Sunday during football season.

" _What'd I tell ya, Rick? If I've said it once, I've said it a million times: Don't be an overachiever. Jus' stay in yer lane, man._ "

Rick furrowed his brow, eyelids falling shut. His mouth made a vague mumbling sound that resembled something like, "Why would I ever listen ta you, ya lyin' sack a shit?"

Shane's voice filled his ears again, so palpable and real that Rick was sure his dead best friend was standing right next to him. " _Because – where the hell would you_ _ **be**_ _if it wasn't fer me?_ "

His smug laugh echoed out in the wake of his statement.

Before Rick could argue, or even feel an ounce of anger in response, he lost his final grasp on consciousness and slipped into the warm, comforting embrace of sedative-induced sleep. He was no longer able to fight it. The blackness swallowed him up once more.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the late update, but I participated in Bethyl Smut Week 2k18, so if you didn't see, I posted a Bethyl one-shot for the day one prompt "Breathe." Also, this chapter ended up super long, so hopefully those make up for the lack of an update last week.  
Next week will be back to Beth and the camping trip. I also have another Bethyl one-shot (maybe two) coming up for Bethyl Smut Week. Because I'm awful with deadlines. As always, this chapter includes a photo that you can find on AO3 or the comprehensive _Most Wanted_ pinterest board.

So Lori is an awful person, but she DID tell Rick the truth when he asked instead of beating around the bush, so how does that make you feel? Also, what do you think of Rick and Lerner's conversation? And what do y'all think of Edwards?

 _RIP Scott Wilson. The news of our very own beloved Hershel passing has broken my heart._


	61. to comprehend this curse that i call lov

**Warning:** this chapter contains explicit sexual content.

* * *

 _ **to comprehend this curse that i call love**_

Beth's terrifying dream left her trembling when she returned to consciousness. But as soon as she opened her eyes, it fled her mind, and she couldn't recall the details or why she'd even been scared in the first place. Her face was wet and she quickly reached a hand up to wipe at it, realizing it was her own tears. She rubbed her eyes and lifted her head to glance around, still disoriented.

The light and warmth of the campfire was almost completely gone, and the night seemed to have grown darker and colder around her. Then she remembered that Daryl had been next to her when she'd gone to sleep, and she sat up to look around for him. The absence of his body heat and his warm embrace sent a tiny jolt of fear through her chest, and for the briefest moment, she was afraid that Daryl himself had been a dream entirely.

Dwight and Sherry's tent was dark and silent, and there were only a few of the solar-powered lights left on around the small campsite. The fire had burned down to a barely flickering flame, surviving on the remnants of ashes. The only sounds were crickets and other nocturnal critters calling out into the night from the surrounding woods, rustling trees and the occasional owl hooting. The moon was shining dimly from the dark sky, cumulonimbus clouds disappearing and leaving wisps of stratocumulus in their wake to lazily float through the star-speckled blackness. Daryl and Beth's tent was dark and silent, too, and Beth wondered if Daryl had retreated inside and left her out on the blanket. She didn't know what time it was, but she knew it had to have been at least a couple of hours since she'd been asleep.

Then a loud rustling from the tree line caught her attention and she turned her head to look. A shadowy figure approached, and at first she'd panicked, but she quickly recognized the familiar gait and silhouette, and then Daryl was stepping close enough that she could see him faintly in the light. When he met her gaze and realized she was awake, he walked a little faster until he'd reached the blanket.

"Ya alright?" He asked, gazing down at her with a furrowed brow.

Beth nodded, slowly pushing herself up on the blanket until she was standing on her feet. "Jus' woke up an' you were gone, got a little confused. What time is it?" She hoped he hadn't seen the tears on her face or felt her trembling while she'd been asleep.

He shrugged and glanced up at the moon. "Little after midnight, I reckon. Jus' got up ta go take a piss. You wanna go sleep in the tent?"

She quickly found her boots and slipped them on, becoming very aware of her full bladder now that Daryl had mentioned it. "Yeah, I'm gonna go pee, too."

He nodded and went about rolling up the blankets and tarp while she walked away toward the tree line to relieve herself. When she returned, he was stamping out the last remaining embers of the campfire, having packed away the blankets and tarp already. Beth went to the cooler and got a bottle of water, which she nearly emptied within seconds, chugging the cold liquid and finding instant relief from the dry mouth and horrible beer after-taste that she'd woken up with. Thankfully, her head didn't hurt – for now.

They slipped into their empty, quiet tent together and changed into warm sleeping clothes, moving together in silence. As usual, it took Daryl about five seconds to strip down and get comfortable, and then he was snuggling into the large sleeping bag and sliding over to leave an empty spot for Beth. When she finally turned around, she found him gazing up at her with sleepy eyes, waiting patiently for her to join him. She smiled eagerly and slipped in beside him, wriggling around a bit and finding the right spot. His large frame took up most of the space inside the bag, but there was just enough for her petite body to squeeze in comfortably. Then she let out a deep sigh of content, their combined body heat filling the sleeping bag and enveloping them while they pressed close against each other. Daryl slid an arm beneath her and wrapped the other around her middle, pulling her in closer.

"Feelin' okay? You was squirmin' a lot in yer sleep," his low voice rumbled out next to her ear, his breath hot on the side of her neck.

She lay on her back, both hands grasping the arm that he'd wrapped around her. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn't very tired anymore. She replied quietly, " _Mmhmm_. Bad dream – I don't even remember it now."

He grunted softly and then she felt his head moving against the pillow until his breath was right against her neck and his chin hair was tickling her skin. She smiled as she felt his lips lightly pressing to the most sensitive spot on her neck, planting a series of small kisses. He grunted again, but it was more like a sigh as the remaining tension in his muscles disappeared and he relaxed against her.

"Don't remember, huh? Too much beer?" Daryl's voice was breathy and husky.

Beth continued smiling to herself, recognizing the slight hesitation in his tone. "No… I remember everythin' from when I was _awake_."

" _Hmm_ ," he grunted, kissing her neck softly again.

She leaned her head away just enough that she could turn and look at him through the darkness of the tent, watching him lift his heavy eyelids and gaze back at her from inches away. She wasn't sure if she'd become really good at reading him, or if she was just seeing something she _hoped_ to see. But she had a feeling that she knew what direction he was trying to go with his questions and curious grunts. And admittedly, it was one of the first things that had popped into her head, too. Mostly because she was beginning to feel a little foolish for letting herself open up the way she had after a few beers. Part of her hoped he'd forget it and let it go, especially if he didn't feel the same. But now she was getting the sense that he wasn't completely turned off by the idea of her being in love with him. _Actual_ love.

She'd been afraid that it had scared him, spooked him away from how close they were getting and how quickly things had been moving. But now she could see, that wasn't what scared him. He'd never admit it, but he feared the same thing she did: allowing himself to love someone who wasn't going to stick around. Allowing their feelings and their relationship to spiral into something neither of them had any control over. Allowing themselves to need each other. Mostly, she could see that he was afraid of _admitting_ it. Because if he acknowledged that it had grown into a beast of its own, then he'd be admitting that he allowed himself to lose control, and that she had at least _some_ sort of power over him. And that's how you set yourself up to get hurt.

So what did she have to lose at this point? She knew how she felt. Maybe he did, too, and if he wasn't ready to admit it, then she'd understand. But it was pointless for her to deny it, or to try and act like Daryl didn't have just as much power to hurt her as she did him. Because he already knew – he _had_ to. So he already knew how much she was trusting him.

Besides, there was just no way she could keep it to herself – her feelings for him, the way he'd deeply affected her in such a small amount of time. And the last thing she'd want would be for Daryl to think that she only loved him when she was drunk. She wanted to make sure he knew that she meant it, and that even if he didn't feel it, she was positive of what it was and confident in what she felt.

"I do," Beth whispered. "I didn't say any a that 'cause of the beer. I said it 'cause I _mean_ it."

She saw his lip twitch and then he was blinking, crease forming in his brow as he stared back at her, seemingly trying to study her expression and figure out if she was joking or not. She could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. His eyes flickered with doubt and she could sense the hesitation and the slight fear. And then he asked, "How can you be so sure?"

There it was: the cloud of doubt that constantly plagued him. His silent conviction that there wasn't anyone alive who would ever love him in that way, no one that he could ever trust not to leave and shatter his entire world.

Her smile faded and she stared into the swirling depths of his dark blue eyes, watching as a hundred different thoughts and self-conflicts passed through them. She suddenly felt a sadness so deep that it penetrated her bones. To think that someone like Daryl could be so unconvinced that they were worthy of love or appreciation. She wanted to change that, even if it took her entire life and every shred of energy she had left. Even if it made her a hypocrite for being unable to believe it for herself.

She chewed lightly on her bottom lip for a second, then replied with a slew of words that had been floating around in her head for weeks. They spilled out of her like the lines of poetry she used to write in her journal. "'Cause it feels like somethin' in my soul recognizes you. Like I was waitin' for you to come along… And because I know you in a way that I've never _wanted_ ta know anybody else before. And yer not like _anybody_ I've ever met before. You're _better_."

A shadow of uncertainty crossed Daryl's face and he continued staring back at her, brow furrowed and lips pressed tightly together. Beth paused and studied his expression. It felt like he might be close to believing her, but she couldn't be sure. At this point, all she _cared_ was that he believed her. She wasn't thinking about whether or not he felt the same – she just wanted to make sure that he knew it was possible, and that he was fully deserving of any ounce of love or good that she might be capable of giving him.

She wanted him to know that he _had_ it. He had all of it. If he wanted it.

When a few long seconds passed and he didn't say anything, she ignored her quickening pulse and continued, "I know it's kinda soon. An' I didn't say it 'cause I expected ta hear it back, an' definitely not 'cause I was drunk. I just wanted you ta know that… that's how I feel. That I mean it and that it's… _real_."

She could see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, and before the silence could settle between them and she could start second-guessing everything she'd said, he rumbled, "Not like anybody ya ever met, huh? Must not a met many people before."

A playful smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and Beth smirked, heart skipping inside her chest and butterflies coming to life in her stomach. The air of tension between them immediately lifted.

"You really don't give yerself enough credit – even if I ain't known many people, yer still one a the _best_ men I've ever known." She'd said it before, but she felt it was worth saying a million times over, until he finally believed her.

Even in the darkness of the tent, she could see the bright red blush creeping up Daryl's neck and into his cheeks. His eyes flicked away from hers bashfully and her smirk grew into a grin. She rolled over in his arms until their chests were pressed together and she was leaning up against his arm, facing him directly while they were still inches apart.

She watched his eyes slowly focus in on hers again, pupils wide in the darkness, and continued grinning as she whispered out light-heartedly, "They really broke the mold when they made _you_ , Daryl Dixon."

He rolled his eyes but before he could disagree or even grunt in response, Beth closed her eyes and pressed her mouth to his, kissing him longingly. It only took him about half a second to kiss her back, his hand quickly reaching up and grasping the back of her head. She felt him smiling against her lips.

When they broke apart, she opened her eyes and met the same swirling pools of cerulean, but every trace of doubt had disappeared. Instead, there was admiration and longing, and a little amusement. Maybe even a bit of the same thing she felt when she looked at him: _love_.

He was smiling, hand still loosely grasping the back of her head. "I don't believe that," he mumbled. "But since _yer_ sayin' it – I won't call ya a liar."

A pang of guilt throbbed in her gut and she ignored it, leaning in to steal another kiss.

She kept her eyes closed and barely pulled away, whispering softly against his lips, "Well, believe it. I done went an' fell in love with you." Then she pressed her mouth to his again, kissing him deeper this time.

His grasp tightened on the back of her head and she heard him groan softly in his throat. She wrapped an arm around him and closed every tiny space of distance between their bodies inside the sleeping bag. Their kiss deepened and the blood began to rush between her thighs, pooling in that deep spot just below her stomach, sending familiar shivers of anticipation through her arms and legs. Beth flicked out her tongue and swiped it across Daryl's lips, but instead of parting and allowing entrance, he broke the kiss and pulled back.

She opened her eyes and looked at him quizzically to find him gazing back at her with a curiously thoughtful expression. There was a flicker of exposed vulnerability in the blue depths that stared back at her. Then he opened his mouth, gaze growing intense.

Her breath stuttered in her chest when his deep, husky growl of a voice filled her ears, barely more than a low whisper, "Think I'm in love with you, too."

Beth couldn't suppress the grin that formed on her face as the butterflies flapped wildly in her stomach and her heart raced with excitement. A warmth and satisfaction she couldn't remember ever feeling before began rushing through her body, and she had the sudden urge to jump out of an airplane or climb a mountain. She was filled with an indescribable strength that made her feel like she could do _anything_ right now. And the glow in Daryl's eyes was only feeding it, making the feeling stronger until it was a blazing fire in her belly.

She wanted to take his hand, grab Malachi, and flee into the woods with them, never to be seen or heard from again. She wanted to hop on a plane and fly across the ocean with them. She wanted to run far away from all the pain and heartache in her past, and Daryl's, and plant roots somewhere entirely new, where she and the boys could grow their own garden of fresh, new, unconditional love. Without lies or hurt or mistrust. Without police interference. Without all the ghosts that had hitched themselves to the notches of her spine.

Without the painful ball of guilt that had embedded itself deep within her intestines.

Instead, she kissed him again. Desperately, hungrily. His grasp tightened on the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, and he pulled her closer, groaning in his throat. Beth slid her tongue past his lips to explore his mouth, their chests pressed flush together, body heats merging as they scrambled to get closer, tugging at each other's clothing and digging fingers into flesh. Daryl's words echoed through her head, replaying on a loop and sending more electricity straight between her legs. Their breathing grew heavier, chests heaving against one another, lips desperately scrabbling while their tongues battled passionately.

Within seconds, all the other thoughts had faded away. The primal need throbbing between her thighs was taking over, fogging her brain and erasing every single worry. She could think of nothing but his deep voice whispering out to her. She could focus on nothing but his soft lips, his roaming hands, and the closeness of his warm body to hers.

For a moment – until her mind jumped in to plant the seeds of doubt. Until she momentarily felt overly aware of where she was, who she was with, and what she was doing.

 _Goddammit,_ Beth thought. _It's so easy to get lost in you._ _ **Too**_ _easy._

It was almost a silent accusation – even though she knew it was all her own fault. _She_ was the one lying to him, seducing him, falling in love with him. Daryl was just her hapless victim, blind to the truth and following her lead, letting her rip down all his defenses as his vulnerability slid out from beneath his skin like blood seeping from an infected wound. She was in too deep now, drowning in it; the lust, the love, the _need_. She couldn't swim her way up and away from his encompassing grasp if she wanted to. The surface wasn't even visible anymore.

"You _think_ …?" Her voice tumbled from her parted lips, ghosting across his, on the same breath as a light whimper.

She couldn't open her eyes, couldn't bring herself to meet his penetrating gaze. She didn't know where the question had come from, just that she suddenly _needed_ an answer – needed to feel a surge of reassurance. She needed to know that he wasn't undecided. That he was as sure as she was of what had formed between them. That he was submerged just as deeply as she was, and that they could sink down farther hand-in-hand.

He huffed, like a humorless laugh. His fingers dug into the back of her head and she could feel his face heating up as he whispered back, "I _know_ … I am."

Beth had to press her mouth harder against his to stop herself from spilling any more confessions, pushing her tongue past his lips and finding his teeth, nibbling lightly on his bottom lip. Daryl pulled her even closer, grasp tightening on the back of her head as he urged her against him. Her thigh brushed across his rapidly growing erection, sending a rush of blood between her legs. He groaned into her mouth in reaction and she shivered lightly, wrapping her arms tighter around him and slipping her hands beneath his shirt to find the soft skin of his back.

 _What if you knew that I was a murderer?_ She wanted to ask. _What if you knew that I was nothin' but a coward, living in fear and lying to you? Fooling you into thinkin' I'm strong? Into thinkin' I'm_ _ **good**_ _? Would you still be sure? Could you still be_ _ **able**_ _to love me?_

She kissed Daryl more fervently, pressed her body against his with more need and persistence. He mimicked her motions, rough fingers searching for skin contact amongst the layers of clothing. A few moments later, he'd managed to slip off her shirt and expose her bare torso, the cool chill of the air causing goosebumps to form all over her skin. Her nipples hardened and peaked and he quickly found them with one hand, squeezing and rolling them between his fingers intermittently. His other hand worked to slip down her pants, and then she was helping him to pull them off her feet and shove them aside. His cock was hard and twitching beneath the thick cotton of his longjohns, and he rolled his hips up into hers, searching for friction.

There was something more intense in his movements, in the way he pressed himself to her and visibly ached for her touch. Like she was seeing a raw, cracked-open Daryl lying beneath her. The fire in Beth's belly was no longer being fed solely by the words that had slipped so effortlessly off his tongue, but also by the inescapable need that seeped from every pore of his body as he grasped at her desperately and pulled her impossibly closer. He was silently crying out for her with every slight motion of his hips, with every finger that tangled itself into a tendril of dyed-black hair, with every throaty groan that vibrated against her swollen lips.

And she was swallowing it all up, absorbing it into herself, trying to remember it as some form of muscle memory that she could recall later on, when she was inevitably alone again. She was sure he could feel her returned need, especially since he was beginning to pant heavily and his lips were struggling to capture hers, his muscles tensing as he resisted taking control and allowed her to writhe against him. He groaned again. He was constantly groaning – in the most delicious way. She smiled against his lips and dug her fingers into the soft, warm flesh of his back.

There was something else between them that was _different_. This time was somehow unlike any others – even though _every_ time with Daryl had been unlike any others. But this wasn't like the love she'd experienced with Jimmy, naïve and full of hope and first times and pipe dreams. And it wasn't like a frenzied night in the dark after hours of overthinking, or a kiss on the couch after a few too many drinks, or a physical bandage for an emotional wound. It was natural and primal and somehow, there was a deeper emotion behind every slight movement. An emotion that was so palpable, it invaded her senses just like his musky scent and husky growl. He was telling her something with his movements and his tongue in her mouth, something important and strikingly honest.

 _He means it,_ Beth thought. _Jesus Christ, he_ _ **loves**_ _me._

Her hands roamed the expanse of his bare back while his fingers disentangled from her hair and quickly found their way to her lower back. His palms were hot against her pebbled skin, and she pressed her bare chest against the soft fabric of his shirt once his hands had abandoned her breasts. More shivers and goosebumps ran the length of her limbs as his calloused hands slipped beneath the waistband of her pants, completely bypassing her panties to grasp handfuls of her bare ass.

And then the guilty thoughts were dissipated in her mind – or at least, pushed to the back for the time being. The warmth and roughness of Daryl's hands on her bare skin was enough to stoke the flame already blazing inside. She giggled softly against his lips and kissed him harder, eliciting another groan from his throat as he squeezed her ass and his fingers found purchase at the spot where her thighs met her butt.

A wave of pleasure washed over her and gathered between her legs, and she reflexively rolled her hips into his. He returned the motion and, in response, dug his fingers in deeper to the fleshy part of her ass. She swallowed back a quiet moan and teasingly scraped her fingernails against his back. Which only caused him to buck up into her, brushing his throbbing cock against her inner thigh, lips grappling hers with need.

Daryl palmed her cheeks, massaging them in his hands while simultaneously pulling her into him, closer and tighter. His fingers reached a little closer towards the apex of her thighs each time he massaged the fatty flesh, and Beth arched her back to allow easier access, pressing her ass up into his hands and urging him to stretch his fingers just a few inches farther. The heat between her legs was building rapidly, pooling and intensifying as she reveled in the feel of his calloused hands on her skin, his hot chest pressed against hers, his rough fingers slipping smoothly around the contours of her ass to reach between her upper thighs.

The way their bodies fit together, she could've swore they were _made_ for each other. Every curve and jut of her own body seemed to interlock with every crevice and nook in his, and she alternated between arching her ass into his hands and grounding her hips against his, small breasts still pressed close against his broad chest. He groaned every time she made contact with the hard bulge in his pants, and after a few seconds of sweet torture, he was cupping the bottom of her ass and digging his fingers into her upper thighs. Then he rolled them both over, until he was on his back and she was lying atop him inside the sleeping bag. And he pulled her down against him, hard and insistent, a grunt escaping from his throat that melted into a groan of desire as he explored her mouth with his tongue and rolled his hips up into hers.

Without any more urging necessary, his fingers quickly slipped below the cusp of her ass and between her thighs to find the warm wetness. Beth shuddered and groaned into his mouth, kissing him hungrily and digging her fingernails into his back. She felt his lips curving into a mischievous smile and then his fingers were tracing through the wetness that had pooled, finding the lips of her labia and tracing through them until he found her pulsing clit. When he pressed down onto it, a small squeak escaped her throat. She arched her back and pressed her aching cunt up against his hand, and a surge of anticipation rushed through her when his throaty groan filled her ears and she felt the pressure between her legs.

Their breathing quickened, mouths barely pulling apart to gasp for air as Daryl's fingers continued to tease Beth's clit, tracing through the gathered juices, fingertips brushing past the entrance to her pussy and sending uncontrollable shivers down her legs. She felt his stiff cock grinding against her leg again, and she slipped one hand from his shirt and reached down to bury it into his pants, grasping blindly beneath the thick fabric of his longjohns. The hand that was still cupping her ass gave a firm squeeze when she found his cock and wrapped her small hand around it, eliciting another groan from his swollen, parted lips.

He kissed her again, hard and desperate, and his groans vibrated through her mouth as she gave his cock a few light, teasing strokes. Then she withdrew her hand from his pants and grabbed the hem of his shirt with both of her hands, pulling it up. She suddenly craved the warmth of his bare skin against hers – _more_. She wanted to feel every arc and dip of his body, every scar, every piece of flesh that was stretched taught against toned muscle.

And he didn't object, pausing his motions in order to help her take his shirt off and toss it aside. Then he was frantically yanking his longjohns down his hips and off his legs while Beth pulled off her own pants. When they resumed their heated kissing and his firm grasp on her ass, she could feel his body heat even more intensely, and it seemed to grow hotter as it joined with hers to fill the sleeping bag. Feeling his bare chest and stomach against hers sent the blood rushing through her veins at high speed all over again, a blush creeping its way up her neck and to her cheeks.

His fingers traced their way back through the ever-building wetness between her thighs, and then he was teasing her clit and her aching cunt at the same time. She quickly reached down to grasp his hard cock in her hand, breaking their kiss and burying her face into the crook of his shoulder to softly kiss his neck as she began to stroke his throbbing dick. He shuddered against her and let out a soft growl, and half a second later, he was slipping his finger inside her dripping wet pussy.

Beth let out a gasp against the skin of Daryl's neck and the groan he bit back vibrated through his chest, then he slipped another finger in and grasped her ass tightly with his other hand, holding her in place as her thighs shook atop him. Her lips were hovering over the spot she'd been kissing on his neck, breath stuttering out involuntarily. Then he wiggled his fingers inside her and slid them in farther, pushing past her tight entrance and slipping between the aching, swollen walls. Her hand briefly tightened around his cock, nearly forgotten in her hand but still twitching and throbbing, and she swiped her thumb over the head, slick with precome. His fingers jerked inside her in response and she moaned softly before kissing his neck with desperation.

A mumbled slur of words escaped his parted lips as he explored her wet cunt, finding his way to the most reactive spot, slipping in up to his knuckles as her juices leaked out and down his hand, "Shit, babe – "

But she quickly raised her head and covered his mouth with hers, kissing him hungrily and cutting him off. A wave of pleasure washed over her when his fingers curled inside her, pressing against the back of her clit and making her thighs briefly tremble. She pulled her lips from his just enough to let out a shaky breath, her hand giving his cock a squeeze before she teasingly stroked it a few more times. His fingers pressed harder up into her and she heard the breath hitch in his throat, his hips bucking up toward her hand.

Beth writhed atop Daryl's large, sturdy body, perspiration forming on their skin. His cock was stiff and twitching in her hand, begging for more contact, and her pussy pulsated around his long fingers, begging for more as well. She slid her hips over just slightly, enough that he could feel the heat from between her legs on his thick, waiting erection. She heard him let out a shuddered groan, then felt his hips bucking up toward her again. His fingers worked faster inside her, sending another wave of pleasure through her muscles and forming faint stars in the backs of her eyelids.

His hand released its firm grasp on her ass and slipped around, squeezing between their bodies and reaching down to rub her clit. He continued his motions inside her cunt, and her entire body tensed over him, a moan trapped in her throat. Her lips were frozen against his as she barely rolled her hips into his hand, gaining just the right amount of friction on her damp, swollen clit.

Daryl growled from his throat and she felt his cock brushing against her labia, precome mixing with her juices. She ground down into his hand while his fingers moved rapidly inside her, curling and finding a steady rhythm, syncing with the pressure of his fingers against her clit. Her breathing came in desperate gasps and light pants, and he captured her lips in another kiss before nibbling lightly on her lower lip.

When he pulled back and brushed his throbbing dick more intently against her cunt, combining with the feeling of his fingers deep inside her, he growled, "Grab the condom – from m'pants."

His fingers and hand paused their motions and Beth's eyes opened to find his deep, blue pools staring up at her, pupils wide and eyelids heavy in the darkness. Only because he'd stopped did the logical part of her brain begin to work again, and she quickly nodded and released his thick, stiff cock from her hands. She heard a small breath of disappointment escape his lips as she struggled to sit up and reach over for the pair of jeans abandoned on the floor nearby.

A few moments later, still hovering on the hazy precipice of orgasm and desperate to resume as soon as possible, she planted soft kisses along Daryl's jawline while he struggled to slip a condom on over his painfully swollen erection. And then it was on and he was grunting in satisfaction and turning his head to meet her lips, kissing her hungrily and wasting no time slipping his fingers back inside her and pressing the palm of his other hand against her clit, massaging her most sensitive areas from the inside out.

She moaned into his mouth and rolled down against him, urging his fingers deeper until he was finally resuming his position from earlier. He maneuvered his hips until his thick cock was resting between her thighs, twitching against her wet lips as his fingers worked the back of her clit, picking up speed until her legs were trembling and her breathing had become gasps and pants into his mouth. Despite the thin layer of latex, she could still feel his dick pulsing and quivering with need and anticipation, enveloped in the heat radiating from her soaking cunt.

Beth braced herself against Daryl's broad chest, hands pressed to his bare skin, his heart hammering away beneath her palms. The rest of her body worked of its own accord, and as she craned her neck back and away from his face to take in a deep breath, her muscles went rigid around him and her walls contracted and clenched around his fingers. His lips pressed to the skin of her throat, groaning softly as he leaned up into her. His cock grazed past her dripping wetness and they simultaneously moaned.

She felt her climax mounting, building and about to burst as his fingers continued massaging her clenched walls, palm ground down against her aching clit. She gasped out breathlessly, "Oh, _baby_ , I'm gonna – "

He grunted, husky voice rumbling against the soft skin of her exposed throat, " _Hunh-uh_ – not without me."

Her breath hitched in her chest and she was still frozen, inches away from tumbling over the edge as he withdrew his fingers and abandoned her clit. She let out a small whine of protest, but it had barely filled the air around them when she felt him grasping her hip with one hand while his other hand guided his twitching cock to her entrance. Her cunt was sensitive and swollen, begging to be filled, and his dick slid inside effortlessly as his other hand guided her hips down onto it, until she'd eagerly taken his entire length inside. She didn't let out her breath until she felt him exhaling beneath her, contracting walls enveloping his long member and a sharp tingle running all through her body as he filled her to the brim.

She sat up just enough to plant the bottoms of her feet on either side of Daryl's waist, hands still placed firmly on his muscular chest for balance. He used one hand to grasp her hip and keep her steady while the other moved between her legs and worked her clit. Then he was guiding her into a rhythm, and as she gained momentum, she began to take over, leading the motions as she slid up and down on his throbbing cock.

She sped up quickly, finding the pace they'd previously reached and feeling the climax rapidly returning and mounting even higher than before. The tent was filled with their gasps and pants and muffled moans, deep groans of pleasure and the slapping of skin against skin. The cover of the sleeping bag had slid down to Beth's waist, leaving their torsos exposed to the cool air. But it didn't faze them because they were already damp with sweat, skin flushed and pink with excessive blood flow, filling the tent with the smell of sweat and sex.

Beth rode his cock faster and faster, slight whimpers escaping her mouth. Daryl grunted and cursed under his breath, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hip while the other massaged her clit relentlessly. Her tight walls contracted around him, urged him in deeper. His hand released her hip and moved up to grasp her breast, tweaking her hard nipple between his fingers, thrusting up into her as he massaged the tender skin and she moaned in response.

"F- _fuck_ – c'mon, girl, come with me," he gasped out, his gruff voice hitting her ears and sending fresh jolts of arousal straight down to the building explosion between her legs. Almost like he was finally giving her permission.

As if she needed any more reason beside the way his cock was convulsing and quivering inside her, hearing him beg for it was the last push she needed to allow herself to finally be consumed by the edging submersion of orgasm.

"I'm – I'm coming, baby," she squeaked out, eyes squeezed shut as her entire body tensed and shuddered, walls clenching with a death-grip around his cock. Her fingers dug into the rippling muscles of his chest.

His hands froze on her body and he grunted softly, hips bucking up into her and a heavy shudder racking his muscles as he spilled inside her. " _Fuck_ , babe – !"

Beth rolled her hips down into him, milking him for every last bit he had, and he shuddered again. An after-shock coursed through her stomach and legs and she moaned, digging her fingers into his chest briefly, riding out the last waves of pleasure before relaxing against him. She exhaled a deep breath of relief and blinked away the fog and stars in her vision.

Before she could lean down and kiss him, or release his wilting cock from the soft, sensitive grasp of her swollen cunt, Daryl was wrapping his arm around her waist and leaning up. Then he'd sat up, still inside her as she sat in his lap and her legs wrapped around his waist. He reached his other hand up to cradle the back of her skull, kissing her softly from the top of her chest, across the tender skin of her neck, along her jaw and cheek, and finally meeting her lips. He silently worshipped her body with his mouth. She kissed him back hungrily, her arms over his shoulders, peaked nipples brushing against the warm, damp skin of his bare chest.

She smiled against his lips, hearing every unspoken word as he kissed her harder and more meaningfully. And when they parted for air, she opened her eyes and gazed down at him from beneath heavy eyelids, still smiling. His eyes slowly opened and he gazed back with wide, yawning pupils and a hazy smirk.

The urge was bursting and blooming in her chest, more irresistible than ever, and before she had a chance to hesitate, she whispered out, "I love you."

His face seemed to relax, as if she'd just given him the final bit of release he'd really been needing. And she had a feeling that if she hadn't said it, he wouldn't have either. The corner of his lips tugged into a more prominent smirk.

"I love _you_ ," he quietly mumbled, and quickly pressed his mouth to hers in another deep kiss.

She closed her eyes and kissed him back, and her hand found its way to the back of his head to tangle in his thick hair. She pulled him a little closer, kissing him harder, then pulled away. Her eyelids fluttered open and watched as his tongue flicked out and across his lower lip, like he was still tasting her. She felt his cock twitch reactively inside her.

"You mean it, huh?" She asked, barely loud enough for him to hear as her breath wafted across his lips.

His lips tugged into another smirk and he grunted softly. "Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."

Beth covered his mouth with hers in another ravenous kiss, trying her best to swallow his words and his intentions and his feelings. Trying everything she could to memorize them and hold them close, keep them somewhere that she could always refer back to when needed.

Because this, hands down, was one of the best feelings she'd _ever_ experienced in her short life.

Several minutes later, after cleaning up and finding all their discarded clothes and redressing, Beth crawled back into the sleeping bag and got comfortable with her head on the pillow. Daryl followed, slipping in and snuggling close to her side in the warmth of the cocoon-like bag. To her surprise, he slid down to rest his head on her chest and wrap his arms around her waist, curling into her in an almost cat-like fashion. She got a warm tingle all through her body as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer. They fit together like human puzzle pieces once more.

He let out a long breath, relaxing into her, the side of his face resting on the small, cushiony area of her breast. Her heart quickened at first, but then it steadied and her breathing gradually matched with his. They seemed to melt into their private cocoon. Her hand wandered up and her fingertips traced along the stubble on his jaw, causing him to shiver. Then she began absent-mindedly carding her fingers through his shaggy hair, gently massaging his scalp. He groaned in satisfaction and nuzzled his cheek into her breast. She could feel all the remaining tension draining from his shoulders and jaw. His hands slipped beneath her shirt and he placed his palms against her warm skin, sending chills up her spine until his fingers were the same temperature as her back.

As relaxed as Beth was, the pull of sleep had left her for now and her eyes wouldn't stay closed. She hummed in contentment as she continued playing with Daryl's hair, reveling in the warmth of his body and the way he clutched her close to him, like he thought she might float away while he was asleep. A smile tugged relentlessly at the corners of her mouth and she breathed in his musky scent, mixed with an air of sex and campfire smoke.

His voice caught her off-guard, gruff and sleepy and cutting through the heavy blanket of silence abruptly. "Sure you don't wanna leave?"

A foreboding sensation stirred in her gut and drifted up to fill her chest, heart skipping. She swallowed and the smile faded from her lips. But her response was completely honest. "That's the last thing I'd _ever_ want."

He grunted softly and nuzzled his cheek into her breast again, and she felt him take in a deep breath. Her fingers massaged his scalp and weaved through tendrils of dark hair.

"Promise ya won't?" He asked, a mumbled whisper.

The raw honesty and palpable vulnerability in his voice sent a painful pang through her stomach. Beth swallowed back a knot that threatened to form into tears and shut her eyes. The only ounce of confidence she could find was in the thought of running away with Daryl and Mal – _far_ away. Disappearing together.

And that's what she thought about as she responded, " _Promise_."

His hands flexed against her bare skin and his arms held her a little tighter. He exhaled a long breath that resembled relief. She wondered if he could hear how fast her heart was beating.

Even though she most certainly was not lying this time. She meant it. _All_ of it. She wanted to give Daryl every last bit of good that was inside of her, wanted to show him the happiness and love that he'd always deserved and still wasn't convinced of. And if that meant risking her life, her freedom, and nearly everything about life that she thought she'd known, then so be it. It was the least he deserved for the way he'd made her feel over the last month, for the way he'd practically saved her from self-destruction.

Maybe it was reckless and foolish, maybe it was more selfish than selfless, but she no longer cared. This scarred and cracked man in her arms was the most honest, compassionate, and loyal person she'd ever fucking met, and between him and his son, she knew that she'd never stood a chance. It was inevitable that she'd fall in love with them and become attached in a way that was impossible to forget. Impossible to walk away from.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid. Maggie would be so disappointed in me. Everything was supposed to be_ _ **temporary**_ _. Everything was supposed to be_ _ **detachable**_ _,_ she thought briefly.

But then she felt Daryl stir against her, snuggling in closer, resituating his arm beneath her so that he could hold her tighter and feel more of her bare skin on his palm. And every single ounce of regret melted away, just like everything else had melted away when they'd cuddled up together inside the sleeping bag.

She closed her eyes and breathed him in again, forced herself to focus on the feel of his soft hair between her fingers, the warmth of his face against her chest and the heaviness of his arms around her. The sounds of the woods around them drifted in from outside, faint and muffled. For a long moment, she convinced herself it was all a dream. There was no way this could be real, that _Daryl_ could be real.

But he was. He was real and solid beside her, beneath her hands, his pulse thumping in tune with hers. She pressed her lips to the top of his head, felt how _real_ he actually was. And before sleep even had a chance to wrap its welcoming arms around her, music was filling her head – like it usually did during moments of incomparable contentment or satisfaction.

Sometimes it felt like her soul wanted to burst out into song, like the only way she knew to express herself was with a pen or with music. Like there was something trapped inside her, begging to be let out, and it escaped piece-by-piece in lines of poetry and flowing harmonies.

" _I hear the clock, it's six a.m. I feel so far from where I've been…_ "

Daryl's muscles tensed momentarily when her voice began filling the tent, barely breaking the silence and echoing out around them softly. But then he realized she was singing and he seemed to relax and sigh into her.

She followed a tune that was playing clearly in her head. A song from the nineties that her sister had liked. The words flowed from her lips without much effort, making her chest swell with an indescribable happiness, lips wrapping comfortably around each syllable.

"… _I never put wet towels on the floor anymore, 'cause dre-eams last so long, even after you're gone. I know that you love me, and soo-oon you will see… You were_ _ **meant**_ _for me. And I was meant for you…_ "

Beth's fingers raked through Daryl's hair, and she gazed up through the darkness at the top of the tent as she sang. The music was playing in her head like a clear memory or a dramatization. Even though she wasn't thinking of the farm or her family. All she could focus on was Daryl beside her, his arms around her.

"… _So I picked up the paper, it was more bad news. More hearts being broken, or people bein' u-used…_ "

She kept her voice soft and quiet, barely breaking through the silence in the tent. She felt him humming in contentment against her chest, nuzzling into her again. She thought about mornings spent in his apartment, and how it had felt like finding home in a wasteland. And she thought about nights spent in his arms, wrapped up in his warmth, sinking deeper and deeper.

"… _I pick a book up and then I turn the sheets down, and then I take a deep breath and a goo-ood look around. Put on my PJs and hop into bed, I'm half alive but I feel mostly dead. I try an' tell myself it'll all be alright, I just shouldn't think anymore tonight, 'cause dreams last s-oo long, e-even after you're gone…_ "

The final chorus faded out around them and she planted another soft kiss to the top of his head as his whole body stilled beside her, his breathing becoming steady and his head resting heavily against her breast. Her chest felt lighter, filled with mountain air and blooming sunflowers rather than the anvil of guilt that normally occupied the space.

And a few minutes later, Beth had closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep as well, still wrapped up in Daryl with her cheek resting atop his head and his on her chest.

The dreams stayed away this time.

* * *

The tent was still dark when Beth awoke a few hours later. She drifted into consciousness at the sensation of soft, warm lips against her cheek and the tickle of stubble grazing her chin. A smile formed on her mouth before her eyelids fluttered open. Daryl's smell encompassed her and she expected him before he came into view, blurry through the sleep clouding her eyes.

"What're you doin'? It's still dark," she mumbled, turning her face to meet his lips and kissing him.

He smiled against her lips before they parted, and his deep voice rumbled, "Good time ta hunt 'fore the kid wakes up. Didn't ya say you wanted ta see me use that crossbow?"

Beth furrowed her brow and tried to recall what he was referring to, but it was either the half-sleep haze or her poor memory, because she couldn't remember saying that to him. Though she'd certainly thought about it several times.

"Huh?" She asked, smirking up at him quizzically.

He huffed in amusement and replied, "Yeah, you was 'bout four beers deep so you might not remember, but I heard ya say you wanted ta _'see me in action'_ – somethin' like that." He was smirking light-heartedly, half-teasing her.

She was grateful for the darkness of the tent because a blush was rising up her neck and into her cheeks and she giggled bashfully, reaching a hand up to rub the sleep from her eyes. She mumbled back, "Oh – yeah." He was probably right. There had been a time or two during the previous evening when she'd been talking rather animatedly to Sherry after drinking a good amount of beer.

"I can let ya sleep," he muttered, beginning to inch back and away from her.

She quickly wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him back in. "No – I really do wanna see you in action. We goin' now?"

He grunted sheepishly and pecked her lips with a quick kiss. "Yeah. If ya get up an' get dressed."

It took some serious pushing and self-motivation for Beth to drag herself from the warmth of the sleeping bag, but the excitement certainly helped. She kept thinking about how she'd hoped for a chance to go out and see Daryl in nature, to see what Dwight saw when they were together, to experience what he was like in his most natural state. It was obvious that Daryl felt more at home out in the wilderness than anywhere else, and she already knew that once he was in the trees, a weapon in his hands and an animal in his sights, it would be a moment she'd want to witness. Everything about him fascinated and endeared her, and she wanted to absorb as much as she could. She wanted to know as many sides of him as he would let her know. She wanted to understand him the way Dwight and Sherry and Carol seemed to understand him. Maybe better, if that was possible.

The air was crisp and damp, a cold breeze blowing through every few seconds, and the stars were still bright in the sky. There were hints of sunlight beginning to brighten the horizon, but based on the position of the moon, it would still be a couple of hours until sunrise. Dwight and Sherry's tent was dark and silent, assuring Beth and Daryl that Mal was still inside, sleeping soundly.

Daryl gathered up his crossbow and Beth volunteered to carry the rest of the equipment – a small bag of necessities and first aid supplies, as well as a game stringer to bring back whatever they might kill. He'd made them a couple thermoses full of instant coffee, which tasted terrible but Beth drank gratefully nonetheless. And then they trekked into the woods together, flashlight in Beth's hand as she illuminated the path that Daryl guided her towards.

The woods that surrounded their campsite were dense and dark, and they went a different route than they'd taken to reach the river. It brought them through thicker forestation, green shrubbery and undergrowth, and dark moss as far as Beth could see. She and Daryl trekked lightly and carefully, watching every step they took and staying mindful of all the obstacles beneath their feet. Daryl was nearly silent in his movements, and Beth tried to mimic him, but she found it nearly impossible to stay as quiet as he did. He was practiced in it, a natural tracker. The only thing she knew how to do that well was run. And hide.

She asked a few questions at first, like what kind of crossbow he had and what kinds of animals they were looking for. He answered briefly, explaining that it was a Horton Scout – nothing special, but he'd grown fond of it over the years – and that they were looking for anything small enough to quickly kill and cook up for breakfast. After that, she mostly remained silent, following his cues and finding herself not needing to ask more questions. Though the words eventually left her altogether because he was the only thing she could focus on.

Watching Daryl move with nature, blend into his surroundings, and focus in on nothing but the ground beneath him and the weapon in his hands was an indescribable sight for Beth. She stared, marveled, admired his every movement and stride. The way his arms flexed when he lifted the Horton, the way the muscles in his back stretched taught and threatened to burst through his thin shirt and vest. The way the beam of the flashlight momentarily caught the distressed wings on his vest and illuminated them, filling her chest with an inexplicable weightlessness. She couldn't help but think of her palms on his bare chest, her fingers carding through his thick hair, the way that this solid pillar of a man had melted into a puddle of veracity and vulnerability in her arms mere hours ago.

And now he was glancing back at her, flashing a knowing smirk every few moments, meeting her enthralled gaze with confident azure eyes. His face took on a new glow that only the misty darkness and the bright moonlight could bring about. And when he spotted a rabbit in the distance, and his hand reached out to halt her movements, she didn't even think twice about it. She immediately reacted, stopping dead in her tracks, keeping her flashlight completely still. It barely lit the path ahead, but it was enough to cast light over the rabbit peeking out from behind a bush about a yard away.

Daryl crouched down silently and brought his crossbow up to take aim, muscles flexing and tensing and body going rigid. She could see him reacting with pure instinct, the movements so ingrained into him that they had become second nature. And she could see the deep breath entering his lungs, holding in his chest as he steading his finger, sight locked on his target.

Then it released, and all his muscles went slack as he fired a bolt. Beth's eyes immediately followed and watched as the arrow entered the rabbit nearly dead-on, penetrating its tiny skull and sending it crumpling to the ground in a small, fluffy heap. A pang of guilt clenched her heart until she looked over and saw Daryl straightening his back and lowering the Horton, turning to look at her with a proud half-smile on his face. Then he leaned back a bit and his chest subtly puffed out, pectorals bulging beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

When their eyes met, it was hard for her to feel anything but immense pride and joy. And adoration. She was sure she could watch him do stuff like that forever and never get tired of it. The whole experience was everything she'd hoped it would be and then some. His motions so fluid, his nature so instinctual and organic. Like all those documentaries she used to watch, like seeing a tiger being released back into the wild after months in a wildlife hospital. It just looked and felt _right_ , and she couldn't help but share in the happiness that emanated off his entire being.

She briefly thought to herself that the world could end tomorrow and this man wouldn't really mind. It would just be a reason for him to retreat into the wilderness, to return to the place he so obviously belonged. And for just a second, she wondered to herself if he really _would_ consider retreating into the wilderness with her. Away from society, away from police and media and murderous kingpins. But that idea was quickly pushed from her mind.

They approached the kill together and Beth kept the flashlight focused while Daryl retrieved his bolt and attached the small carcass to the stringer hanging from her bag. No words were exchanged, but they shared a handful of meaningful gazes and it felt like they were communicating silently.

Her heart fluttered and she smiled to herself as they turned and continued trekking through the woods, and she watched the way his legs carried him forward and his feet effortlessly navigated the tricky terrain. There was a small part of her that was also kind of enjoying the view of his butt from where she trailed behind him, the toned muscles moving just as fluidly as the rest of him. She had to pull her eyes away before the flutter made its way down to the spot between her legs and conjured up _more_ memories of what they'd been doing mere hours before.

As they traveled together through the dense trees, Beth realized they didn't _need_ to talk. Daryl was able to accurately convey everything he needed to through gestures and facial expressions, and she paid close attention, following his every lead and doing her best to keep the flashlight on what was important. There was an inescapable synergy between them that was growing more prominent with every synced step they took. She'd learned how to read him, despite their short time together. And they worked together well. She was even beginning to allow herself to think that they made a pretty damn good team. She felt a small burst of excitement and pride in her chest whenever he would give her a brief head nod, or flash her a flirtatious smirk. It was almost like he was impressed at how well she could decipher his wordless language, and how naturally they were able to cooperate with each other.

For a little while, as the darkness of the Catskill woods enveloped them and the stars struggled to peek through canopies of tree leaves, Beth began to think that maybe she _did_ know Daryl. Maybe she had already learned to understand him in a way that most people didn't. Maybe, despite their short time together, they'd managed to find something that connected them far deeper than anyone else. Deeper than either of them could've ever expected or imagined, or prepared for.

And then, for a brief moment, she wondered if she was just fooling herself because she'd fallen so head over heels for him. What would Maggie say? Would she call it naïve, a symptom of infatuation and a whirlwind romance? Or would she see what she'd seen with Glenn – a man who finally _got_ _it_? A man who filled that empty space like it had been waiting for him, like it had been molded specifically for him? In every unexpected way imaginable?

Beth knew the answer. She knew what her big sister would really think, what she'd really say. Especially considering the circumstances. And it was too disappointing – too _painful_ – to think about.

So she didn't. She pushed it from her mind instead.

And then she focused in on Daryl: watched him gazing down at the disturbed leaves in front of him, watched him zoning into that space that only _he_ could access. Watched him getting lost in it. Whether it was a trail left from a squirrel or a skunk or goddamn Sasquatch himself, she didn't know. Nor did she care. All she cared was that _he_ cared. That he was willing, and predisposed, to following a trail, even though he had no idea _what_ the trail would lead to.

And then she watched him turn his head and invite her inside that inaccessible space that he occupied, silently asking her to join him in the moment. With nothing more than a look; he conveyed every offer that he would never actually speak aloud. She could feel him slowly and tentatively pulling her in, welcoming her to a place that had been occupied by a very select few before her, silently asking if she'd like to stay a while.

She could hear him wordlessly asking her to take his hand, to trust him and follow his lead, to let him guide her toward a _real_ purpose.

So she did.

During a momentary wave of self-doubt, Maggie's voice echoed through Beth's head from a memory she could barely recall anymore: _"You think he's really worth riskin' all our lives?"_

And the only response Beth could conjure, the only answer that reverberated around her skull as she watched Daryl intently and followed him closely, was a statement she'd never been able to voice. Never even had the opportunity to defend. That she would never have the _need_ to explain to Maggie or Daddy or anyone else. Nobody but God Himself.

 _I do._ she thought. _I really do think he's worth risking_ _ **all**_ _of it._

* * *

 _It was early spring in Georgia, and after two solid weeks of afternoon temperatures reaching the mid-seventies, Beth's momma decided it was time to start saving on the electricity bill again. She sent Beth and Maggie out to the long pair of clotheslines in the backyard to hang the freshly-washed sheets and blankets. The whole family was in the midst of their yearly spring cleaning, and Annette was commander-in-chief in their war on dust and clutter. Which meant washing every single piece of bedding in the house, including everything from the guest rooms. Beth and Maggie had grown used to it – it was a tradition, at this point. And they were more than happy to have an excuse to be outside, enjoying the warm sun and the crisp spring air after a long, cold winter._

 _Maggie had been seeing Glenn for nearly eight months and Beth couldn't help but notice how much happier her big sister had been lately. The prior year, she'd trudged around the backyard and mumbled angrily while helping Beth hang the wet laundry on the line. But this year, she was nearly bouncing everywhere, a smile on her face and the radio playing full-blast nearby while she sang along happily. She even grabbed Beth's hand and urged her to dance along a time or two. Not that Beth didn't like it, but it was just kind of_ _ **odd**_ _for Maggie. Even though she knew exactly what had brought it about._

 _Not only had Maggie's relationship with Glenn been going well, but he'd also been around a lot more often. He was even beginning to stay the night sometimes – when Hershel wasn't around to express his displeasure with "pre-marital sleepovers." Beth had a feeling that Maggie's boyfriend was quickly becoming an integral part of the family, and that he might not be a pizza delivery boy anymore. Though she didn't ask because that was none of her business._

 _The Beach Boys were blaring from the radio nearby while Maggie bounced around, clipping clothespins to the corners of sheets on the clothesline. Beth hummed along and watched her sister from the corner of her eye while she worked, smiling._

"… _Wo-ouldn't it be nice if we could wa-ake up! In the morning, when the day is new-w-w!" Maggie sang, her short brown hair fluttering in the breeze, sun-tanned face glowing._

 _When the song eventually ended and the radio went to a commercial break, Beth leaned down to pull out another wet sheet from the basket. She looked up at Maggie with a teasing smile while doing so and asked, "So when's the wedding?"_

 _Maggie finished pinning the corner of a sheet and turned to face Beth, laughing and shaking her head. "Oh, whatever – don't be a dick."_

 _Beth chuckled, her back straightening as she pulled out a wet sheet and stretched it out before her. "I'm not! I'm serious – you sure weren't this happy ta be hangin' laundry_ _ **last**_ _year."_

 _She saw Maggie roll her eyes and turn back to hang a large blanket. "What, I gotta have a reason ta be happy? Can't I just…_ _ **enjoy**_ _life?"_

 _Beth laughed. "You know that's not what I mean."_

 _Maggie shrugged but the broad smile wasn't leaving her face, even as she struggled to keep the heavy blanket in position while attaching clothespins to it. "Well – I love 'im, Bethy. What else can I say? It just_ _ **does**_ _somethin' to ya. It's hard to explain."_

 _Beth briefly furrowed her brow, stepping back and leaning down to retrieve another wet sheet from the basket. "Y'don't_ _ **gotta**_ _explain it – that's what all those movies an' books are for. I get it. Just seems weird fer you. I didn't think you liked him much, but then you started throwin'_ _ **love**_ _around, an'… I dunno. Seems weird, s'all I'm sayin'."_

 _Maggie scoffed and shook her head with a smug smile. "What – you think it's too soon? You think I'm bein' dumb an' lettin' myself get infatuated or somethin'?"_

 _Beth stood up, wet sheet hanging limply in her hands, and met her sister's eyes with a frown and a nod. "Yeah. Kinda."_

 _Maggie's smile faltered and she quickly turned away to busy herself with a separate basket. "Don't be stupid. When you know, you_ _ **know**_ _. An' I'm plenty old enough ta know – yer not. You don't get it yet."_

 _Beth rolled her eyes and continued hanging the sheet in her hands, her big sister's words entering one ear and immediately exiting the other. "_ _ **Right**_ _. Yer not even that much older, it's not like yer_ _ **so**_ _much more mature than me – "_

" _Except I_ _ **am**_ _," Maggie interrupted, her voice becoming agitated. "You do_ _ **a lot**_ _of growing between sixteen an' twenty-two – trust me. I think I'd_ _ **know**_ _. Yer still_ _ **very**_ _naïve. Just ask Momma – she'll tell you the same thing."_

 _Beth thought her eyes might roll all the way back in her head. She suppressed a loud scoff and merely shook her head, muttering, "Whatever."_

 _There was a frustrated silence between them for a few moments as commercials continued to play on the radio. Another song came on and the sisters continued hanging wet sheets and blankets, gradually moving their way farther down the parallel clotheslines. And even though Beth was frowning, Maggie had quickly gone back to smiling. Like she had her own personal oasis of happiness that she could access whenever needed. It made Beth wonder what the hell she was missing out on._

 _She silently stewed while the radio played more songs, the music incomprehensible to her at the moment as she got lost in thought. Maggie didn't seem to care because she was still working and had gone back to quietly singing along._

 _And Beth kept replaying the last eight months in her head, all the slight changes she'd seen in Maggie and the subtle differences that had slowly peeked through. It was mostly weird because Glenn was_ _ **so**_ _not Maggie's type. In fact, he'd seemed almost scared of her for the first two months that he'd started coming around. Like,_ _ **petrified**_ _. Especially when Hershel was around. But then something changed, and suddenly Beth was having to endure watching her big sister tease and flirt and make out with Glenn. And even Shawn seemed to approve of the guy – which had never been the case with any of Maggie's past boyfriends. Beth didn't understand what could've possibly changed between them, or what it was about Glenn that could've possibly endeared Maggie deeply enough to actually fall in_ _ **love**_ _with him._

 _Which made her skeptical – because she knew, better than most, how_ _ **stupid**_ _Maggie could actually be sometimes. No matter how much effort the eldest Greene sibling put into acting like she was flawless and all-knowing. Beth had been eyewitness to all the blatant mistakes and complete fuck-ups that Maggie had committed over the years._

 _When another commercial break came on the radio, Beth glanced over and watched Maggie for a moment. The brunette was nearly to the bottom of her last basket, digging around in the small bag on her belt for another clothespin. Still smiling to herself, like she had some kind of constant inside joke. All the frustration and aggravation had disappeared._

" _So – what is it about him?" Beth asked, careful not to sound like she was trying to provoke another argument, her brow creased in curiosity as she quickly focused her gaze on the sheet in her hands. "That makes you so sure it's_ _ **love**_ _?"_

 _Maggie turned her head and gave Beth a knowing smile, shrugging bashfully. "'S just different._ _ **He's**_ _different. I don't even know how I got by so long without 'im – now that I know what life is like_ _ **with**_ _him. I can't imagine it any other way anymore."_

 _Beth sniggered and muttered, "What's that term you always use –_ _ **codependent**_ _?"_

 _Maggie shot her a glare, smile disappearing. Her eyebrows arched with self-assurance as she accentuated her statement, "I don't_ _ **need**_ _him. I_ _ **want**_ _him. There's a big difference. He's done nothin' but improve my life, an' add to it. He supports me, wants ta_ _ **grow**_ _with me. That's not codependency… that's_ _ **love**_ _."_

 _Beth swallowed and furrowed her brow. "Just like that, though? Ain't even known each other a whole year."_

 _Maggie arched a brow and frowned, and Beth knew that she felt at least a_ _ **little**_ _ashamed of how quickly things had moved with Glenn. Especially when she had always been swift to spout her beliefs in 'taking it slow' – despite all her actions that had always exemplified the exact opposite sentiment._

 _Beth wasn't fooled by her big sister's bullshit. Maggie might have Momma and Daddy convinced, but she couldn't hide it from Shawn and Beth. And she knew that._

 _She sighed, still frowning as her defensive expression softened. A breeze ruffled her brown hair as she spoke, "I dunno how to explain it. There's a lotta things. I know – I_ _ **know**_ _it could be temporary. I know it could_ _ **change**_ _…" Any hint of doubt had completely left her tone as she continued, "But that don't mean I gotta hold myself back. I mean, what if this is the man I'm s'posed ta spend the rest of my_ _ **life**_ _with? Am I gonna ruin it by convincin' myself that we don't know each other well enough ta tell if we're actually in love? I've pushed a lotta good guys away by doin' just that, and I'll be damned if I let myself ruin things with Glenn the same way… I_ _ **love**_ _him."_

 _None of these things answered Beth's questions. She was still skeptical of her big sister, doubtful as usual. Even though Maggie would never admit to it, she was just as blindly guided by selfish urges as anyone else in their family. No matter how confident she acted, or how carefully she'd articulated the mask that she so often wore._

" _So," Beth said slowly and thoughtfully. "Like, unconditional, pure, Corinthians-style love?"_

 _Maggie let out a soft chuckle and shrugged. "I guess so."_

" _But still… how do you_ _ **know**_ _? I mean – are you_ _ **sure**_ _it's not just really good sex or somethin'?" Beth asked, eyebrows raised expectantly as she gazed at her older sister._

 _Maggie rolled her eyes and visibly suppressed a smirk. "That's_ _ **definitely**_ _not the case… It's – I dunno. It's stupid little things, but also really_ _ **big**_ _, little things. That matter_ _ **a**_ _ **lot**_ _. Stuff you'd never realize you're missin' till you have it – stuff you never realized you_ _ **needed**_ _."_

 _Beth mulled over her older sister's words, reaching down and pulling out the last wet sheet from her basket and going about hanging it on the line alongside the others. Unsure of what else to say, and trying her best to avoid more frustration or arguing, she asked tentatively, "Like what?"_

 _She saw Maggie shrugging from the corner of her eye, then the brunette paused and struggled with the final pin on the corner of her last wet blanket. At first, she replied, "I dunno…" And Beth thought that might've been all she had to say._

 _But then she finished her task and went about collecting her share of empty laundry baskets, stacking them together. As she held the last basket in her hands, she paused and Beth turned to face her. There was a thoughtful expression on Maggie's face, eyes narrowed and mouth set in a thin line as she worried her lower lip. She finally met Beth's quizzical gaze and a small smile formed on her mouth, celadon eyes lighting up with realization._

" _It's – the way he_ _ **talks**_ _to me. The way he talks_ _ **about**_ _me. The way he makes me feel an' how we can tell what each other's thinkin', or how we're_ _ **always**_ _in sync. The way he treats me an' all the stuff he does for me – an' not 'cause I expect it, but just 'cause he_ _ **wants**_ _to do it. It's… the way he treats_ _ **you**_ _guys, how he already loves you an' Shawn an' Mom an' Dad like they're his own family. And just… the way he looks at me. He treats me like some kinda_ _ **goddess**_ _or somethin' – no guy has_ _ **ever**_ _felt that way about me. Glenn wants ta see me_ _ **happy**_ _, and I wanna be the one who_ _ **makes**_ _him happy."_

" _Oh." Beth stared at Maggie, perplexed, unsure of what to say as she tried to fathom all the emotions being described. She was also processing this new information – it was all the things she'd missed, or hadn't seen. The emotionally intimate details that only Glenn and Maggie would know about, but the details that made their relationship work. What had caused it to bloom and grow so suddenly and rapidly. It was beginning to make sense to Beth, and she never thought she would, but she was thinking to herself about how it sounded like Maggie had actually found_ _ **true**_ _love. What had even been the odds of that?_

 _A few seconds of silence passed as Beth leaned down to pick up her own empty baskets, and then Maggie was speaking again. Her tone was thoughtful and almost wistful, like she was voicing a sudden afterthought that might or might not pertain to the subject at hand._

" _Ya know, might sound stupid, but," she started, and Beth spun around to face her. She stared at Maggie's eyes, watched her glancing down bashfully at the baskets in her hands, a small smile on her lips as she hesitated._

" _What?" Beth asked, beginning to smile as well._

 _Maggie shrugged and muttered, "I had this weird dream a few months ago – about Glenn."_

 _Beth's smile quickly disappeared and she furrowed her brow. "About what?"_

 _She wasn't sure where Maggie was going with this, but she watched as her big sister met her gaze again and the wistful smile began to falter. She explained quietly, as if she were sharing gossip, "It was – well, I dunno what it was about. It was more like a_ _ **nightmare**_ _. I woke up all sweaty an' cryin'. But… I dreamt that I saw Glenn, and he was all-all bloody an' bruised. I dunno what was goin' on, but it felt like I was watching him_ _ **die**_ _. It was so…_ _ **terrifying**_ _. And the only thing I remember is bein' scared an' seein' 'im – and hearing him say, 'Maggie, I'll find you.' An' then I woke up." She paused as if the memory were causing her to wince._

 _Then Maggie shrugged and looked back down, finishing on a lighter tone, "And it sounds_ _ **really**_ _stupid, but I felt so –_ _ **different**_ _after that. Like, it made me realize how much I actually_ _ **care**_ _about 'im when I thought about how I'd feel if I lost him, or if anythin' ever happened to 'im. It's just… stuff like that." She smirked and shook her head, looking at Beth and adding, "It's kinda like God's tryin' ta_ _ **tell**_ _me somethin'. An' like Daddy says: you just gotta listen."_

" _Oh," Beth said, her brow still furrowed. "Well – yeah. That's not stupid. I think God talks to us in dreams sometimes. Momma thinks so, too."_

 _Maggie chuckled but Beth wasn't sure why because she hadn't said anything funny._

" _It's more than just dreams, though – don't go gettin' the wrong idea," Maggie said, gesturing for Beth to follow her back to the porch._

 _Beth rolled her eyes and gripped the stack of baskets in her arms, immediately recognizing the tone in her sister's voice. "I'm not_ _ **stupid**_ _, an' I don't believe in fairytales anymore. Ya don't gotta worry about any boyfriends a_ _ **mine**_ _anytime soon."_

 _Maggie flashed a smirk as she turned around and began leading the way across the backyard, between the lines of wet sheets and blankets fluttering in the breeze. "Oh yeah? What about Jimmy? I've seen the way he's been lookin' at_ _ **you**_ _lately."_

 _Beth's stomach clenched and she nearly tripped as she followed Maggie, thankful that the brunette's back was turned so she couldn't see the flush of red in Beth's face. "What?_ _ **Nuh-uh**_ _. He don't even_ _ **talk**_ _ta me…"_

 _Maggie laughed and turned her head to look back at Beth over her shoulder as they approached the steps to the porch. "Give it time. He'll grow some balls sooner or later."_

 _Maggie ended up being right, of course. Not long after that conversation, Jimmy wandered up to Beth on a sunny afternoon and stuttered his way through asking her out on a date. Everything else had fallen into place after that, and Beth had thought she'd finally found what Maggie had been talking about._

 _Except she'd never had a dream like that about Jimmy – she'd never imagined the deep, abysmal fear of losing him. Couldn't even imagine it if she_ _ **tried**_ _. In fact, she rarely dreamt about him at all. And for a long time, she told herself that it didn't mean anything. She told herself that love was more than being afraid of losing someone, and that it could be something other than wanting to put another's happiness before your own._

 _But deep down, she knew that was wrong._ _ **All**_ _wrong. It just took her a while to admit it._

 _When it came down to it, sisters had always meant more than blood relation. And she and Maggie weren't so entirely different._

* * *

The sky was gradually lightening and the sun was barely peeking above the horizon, flashlight stuffed into the bag as it was no longer needed, when Daryl offered Beth the Horton and asked if she'd like to learn how to hunt something. She'd watched him for nearly an hour, followed him for at least a mile or two, and synced with his subtle motions and discreet expressions. And she'd definitely thought about it. Shooting a gun and firing a crossbow were two completely different experiences, and her curiosity peaked with every arrow she watched rip through the air.

They already had two rabbits hanging from their stringer, and he could've shot a squirrel at one point, but Beth had stepped down on a stick and made a sound and the critter had scurried away. But Daryl didn't get upset, and he didn't even seem angry. He just gave her a disappointed shrug and moved on, silently gesturing for her to watch where she stepped more closely.

So when he gave her the opportunity to take his crossbow in her hands and carry its weight with her own arms, she eagerly accepted. A few minutes later, Daryl's front was pressed close against her back as his arms circled her and his hands guided hers to the proper placement on the heavy weapon. He whispered instructions and tips, his deep voice barely audible over the cries of birds and crickets around them. His hot breath on her neck and ear sent chills down her spine, but she forced herself to focus on what he was teaching her.

Within half an hour, he'd shown her the basic signs to look out for when tracking, as well as helped her to become familiar with the Horton. It still felt foreign and weighted in her hands, nothing like the Beretta or any of the guns that Maggie had taught her to use. However, Beth was determined to learn as much as she could, just like she'd always been. She listened intently to Daryl's every word and concentrated on stilling her muscles and slowing her breathing so that she was able to take proper aim on a squirrel in the distance.

Daryl's breath was hot against her ear and his voice was deep, gruff, vibrating through her skull as he whispered inches away. "Focus. Aim, breathe in. Picture where ya want the bolt ta go. Breathe out an' pull the trigger."

It was like a mantra, he'd repeated it several times already, and she was plenty familiar with it from perfecting the art of firing a handgun. But she still soaked it in like fresh information. Her muscles tensed, jaw clenching as she inhaled and focused in on the squirrel. Its bushy tail twitched, and briefly, she thought it might've looked up and spotted her. But then she was imagining the bolt penetrating its skull, or even its body, and the beaming smile that would surely appear on Daryl's face as a result. And she let out the breath she'd been holding slowly and evenly, pushing all her intent into the squeeze of the trigger.

And the arrow whizzed through the air and followed a straight course for the squirrel – hitting the tree half an inch to the left of the small critter's body. The squirrel jolted and skittered up the length of the tree, disappearing into the branches and leaves.

Beth groaned out softly, frowning and lowering the crossbow to turn and look at Daryl. He had leaned away and was gazing at the tree with disappointment, shrugging and turning to meet her eyes.

"Nice shot," he rumbled, one hand stroking the hair on his chin thoughtfully. "Helluva lot closer'an I expected ya to get."

She smiled and glanced back at the bolt protruding from the bark of the tree, her disappointment quickly fading. "Really?"

Daryl smirked and gave a brief head nod, eyebrows raising. "Yeah."

A warmth blossomed and spread from Beth's gut up through her chest and limbs. The Horton was no longer heavy in her hands, and as she followed Daryl over to retrieve the arrow, her eyes were drawn to his muscles stretching taught beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. He handed the bolt over and she took it carefully, sharing a coy smile with him at the same time. Their fingers brushed together during the exchange and that old, familiar fluttering came to life in her stomach.

For the next hour or so, he helped her track and hunt the small animals that inhabited the woods. She didn't manage to actually shoot anything, but when she kept making shots that were less than an inch short of making their mark, the expression of surprise never had a chance to leave Daryl's face. Nor did the feeling of warmth and pride that was quickly filling Beth's body. She was a quick learner, and that hadn't changed when it came to becoming familiar with the crossbow. She thought she might've been able to shoot every squirrel and rabbit she'd spotted, dead-on, if it hadn't been for the slight tremble in her fingers brought about by Daryl's close proximity.

Actually, she _knew_ she could've.

And there was one point where she nearly _did_ make a shot dead-on – when she'd crouched down and kept her eyes trained on a small fluff of brown fur peeking out from behind the bushes, and she'd willed her body to go rigid and still like Daryl's did when he had something in his sights. She'd clenched the Horton firmly in her hands, managed to briefly ignore Daryl's overwhelming presence. She'd peered over the weapon, eyes narrowed, gaze unflinching, and waited.

Then the rabbit had emerged, out in the wide open with nothing standing between it and Beth's arrow. It was large and fat, and Daryl made a faint grunting sound of acknowledgment from behind her. Beth had smiled to herself and moved her finger to hover over the trigger, setting the rabbit in her crosshairs and preparing to send an arrow directly through its head. She'd inhaled a deep breath, steadied her hand, and prepared to release everything simultaneously.

But then something else caught her eye – another small ball of fluff emerging from behind the bushes, hopping up to join the large rabbit. And then another, and another. Tiny versions of the large, fat rabbit that was sitting in her crosshairs.

A momma bunny and her three babies, Beth realized. As silly as she knew it was, she couldn't help but immediately think of her own momma. And then her finger was slipping away from the trigger and her grasp was loosening, baited breath exhaling from her lungs, and she slowly lowered the Horton. She continued gazing at the family of rabbits, watching as the mother waited for her babies to be at her side.

Daryl grunted softly to get Beth's attention and she turned her head to look at him, finding a quizzical expression on his face. He gestured questioningly toward the rabbit nearby. She knew what he was saying without having to hear it: _Why ain't you takin' the shot? It's_ _ **right**_ _ **there**_ _._

But she simply smiled back and shrugged lightly, turning her head to watch the bunnies as they slowly hopped away. She spoke softly, her voice a bit hoarse from not being used, "It's a momma an' her babies, Daryl. I can't kill 'er – they _need_ her."

She heard him scoff lightly and she continued smiling, watching as the brown fluffs of fur trailed happily after their large mother, spooked into moving faster by the sound of Beth's voice.

It was like thinking aloud when the next statement slipped from her mouth: "They're all a little family, it's beautiful… Don't you think that's beautiful?"

She wasn't sure what had urged her to say it, because she hadn't particularly been thinking that way for the last year or so. Maybe longer. But now, she was feeling it again, stronger than ever. And kind of like watching Shiva the tiger with her babies back in the Philadelphia Zoo, this was a moment that was too touching for Beth to ignore, or try to brush off as meaningless.

And for the first time, she was thinking of her momma and not feeling complete loss and sadness. All she really felt was a slight longing sensation, like she _really_ wanted to share the moment. With Daryl, specifically. Even though she knew he would probably think it was stupid and scoff at her, or admonish her for missing out on such an easy kill.

But when she turned and glanced back at him, she was pleasantly surprised to see a thoughtful expression on his face. He was stroking his chin hair and gazing at the bunnies as they hopped away, deep in thought, and Beth could've swore she saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Then his eyes met hers and he didn't nod, but he didn't shake his head either. And she thought… maybe. Maybe he saw it, too.

Or maybe he was actually the one showing her.

And then she wondered to herself how she could _ever_ doubt what she felt for him, no matter _what_ her family might say. Infatuation, naivety, love, immaturity, complete recklessness… at the end of the day, they were all the same thing in different disguises. Weren't they?

It didn't even matter, if she really thought about it – they were in prison. She _wasn't_. She was learning things that her family, and most of all, her sister, had never imagined she could _ever_ learn. She was doing things they'd probably never thought she was _capable_ of doing.

And at the end of the day, what did Maggie know anyway? _Beth_ was the one who'd made it out of the farm, who'd outrun the police and evaded authorities for over a month. _Beth_ was the one who'd killed a cop and fucking _got away_ with it.

So who was the naïve one now?

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the long wait on this chapter, but hopefully the other fics I posted - _Breathe. Please._ and _Crossing Galaxies_ \- somewhat made up for it! The flashback in this chapter takes place in spring of 2016, one year before Shawn and Annette are murdered. And everything else picked up right where we left off before _Detective Grimes IV_ , meaning it was late Saturday evening/very early Sunday morning.

The song Beth sang in this chapter was "You Were Meant For Me" by Jewel.

Huge thanks to **courtneyshortney82** , **arrowsandangels** , and **graciemae11** for the helpful input while I wrote this chapter! As usual, there is a companion photo to go with this chapter on AO3, my tumblr, and the _Most Wanted_ pinterest board.

I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Let me know what you think, as we'll be finishing the camping trip next Sunday!


	62. how will i break the news to you?

**Warning:** this chapter contains a deeply descriptive panic/anxiety attack.

* * *

 _ **how will i break the news to you?**_

Satisfied with two decent kills hanging from their game stringer, Beth and Daryl had trekked back within a mile's radius of the campsite, a comfortable lightness settled between them as Daryl continued teaching her how to track while they walked. Every now and then, they'd follow a small trail to find a rabbit or a deer in the distance, but they'd agreed not to kill more than they would be able to eat. Which left Beth kneeling low in the undergrowth and bushes each time they tracked an animal, peering down through the sight of the crossbow in her hands, imagining that she was lining up a kill shot. Daryl was occasionally helping to correct the placement of her hands and arms when she yielded the Horton.

They were still communicating mostly without words, and Beth was intent on picking up every bit of information she could before they made it back to camp. She knelt on the ground, crossbow in her hands, finger well away from the trigger as she peered through the sight at the large rabbit in the distance. The silence that surrounded them was suddenly interrupted by the sound of rustling leaves behind them, and they both turned their heads at the same time to see what it was. But there didn't appear to be any living creatures nearby – at least not any worth worrying about.

Daryl spoke softly for the first time in over an hour, gazing around cautiously, "Keep an eye out fer foxes – they're sneaky, they'll come right up an' snatch the kills hangin' off yer back."

Beth scoffed and gave him a smug smirk, raising her eyebrows and responding without a second thought, "Daryl, I grew up on a farm, I know _all_ _about_ foxes."

Her smirk immediately disappeared as she realized what she'd said and she watched Daryl's eyes widen momentarily before his face took on a thoughtful expression, deep blue eyes looking her up and down like he'd just learned something extremely interesting about her. Except it _wasn't_ that interesting – it was just a fact that she would've much preferred to keep private. Another one of those identifying factors that she'd been lying her way around.

She pursed her lips and quickly looked back to the crossbow in her hands, focusing on aiming at the rabbit again. But the rabbit was gone, and all she could think about was how she _really_ shouldn't have told him that she grew up on a farm. And what the hell was she thinking, letting herself get so comfortable with him that a statement like that could slip out so easily and without thought?

"A farm, huh? Didn't know that," Daryl's low growl of a voice barely reached her ears.

Beth nodded deftly, hesitating as she turned her head to meet his gaze again. He was smirking and as much as she wanted to admonish herself for being a blabbermouth idiot, she just couldn't feel bad about anything while he gave her that particular look.

"Huh – maybe there's some things _you_ could teach _me_ some time," he added.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and she asked quietly, "Like what? Seems like you know just about everything you need to out here."

He grunted, a humorless half-laugh. "Maybe. But everybody's got _somethin'_ ta teach… 'Specially a farm girl like you."

Beth giggled softly, her cheeks turning pink as she looked away and shrugged bashfully. The regret was ebbing away as she realized that she kind of enjoyed hearing him refer to her as a 'farm girl.' Even though she would need to figure out how that affected who "Rosie" was supposed to be.

They stood up and began walking on as quietly as they could, searching for a new trail to track, exchanging sparse words here and there. As she followed closely behind Daryl, she reminded herself over and over to watch what she said – to always second-guess every little thing that came out of her mouth. There was too much at risk now to be letting herself slip up so carelessly.

They tracked a little longer, circling a wide area that was still within a mile of camp, half-debating on calling it a day and heading back for breakfast. The sun was beginning to peek out from behind the horizon and bright, early morning sunlight was leaking in sporadically through the canopies of tree leaves. Beth's eyes were glued to the ground and she was concentrating on remembering and identifying all the tiny details and clues that Daryl had taught her to recognize.

Then they stopped abruptly. Beth didn't understand what was going on at first, lost in thought as she focused on the small trail that she'd been eyeballing. She stopped in her tracks as soon as she saw Daryl freeze and throw out his hand to silently halt her. She gazed around quizzically, heart beginning to pound in her chest, crossbow grasped tightly in her hands. The bag was still strapped to her back, fluffy carcasses hanging lifelessly from the attached game stringer – still untouched by any clever foxes. She wasn't sure whether to expect a particularly ferocious-looking coyote or maybe a bobcat, but she knew that whatever he'd spotted wasn't an animal they'd wanted to run into.

He turned his head and she saw his wide eyes and the serious expression on his face, causing her heart to thump even harder, afraid of what might have him so worried. Then she followed with her eyes to where his hand was gesturing and finally, she spotted it. In the distance, maybe two yards away from where Beth and Daryl stood, was a Black Bear. It didn't appear to be much larger than Beth, which meant it was probably young. And, Beth knew, that also meant that its mother was most likely somewhere nearby.

She couldn't suppress the gasp that escaped her lips, immediately slapping a hand over her mouth and meeting Daryl's intent gaze with wide, fearful eyes. He didn't look scared, though. His lips were pursed and he shot her a look, then nodded his head toward the left and turned around. He silently lifted his boots and stepped through the undergrowth and dead leaves, leading them away, toward a path that would take them _around_ the bears with plenty of distance between them.

She followed his cues and stepped lightly, more careful than ever, pulse thumping rapidly and stomach turning as she struggled to access the kind of calmness that Daryl possessed in this situation. But she just couldn't – she'd never even _seen_ a bear in real life before. Not out in the wild, with nothing to stop it from attacking her. And now she was a rock's throw from one, and the only thing she could register was the pure terror coursing through her veins… and all the thoughts of terrible scenarios that could play out.

What if a giant, momma Black Bear suddenly appeared and mauled Daryl to death right before Beth's eyes? She'd have no fucking _clue_ the first thing to do to protect him.

But Daryl appeared calm and composed, and though she could see the rigid muscles tensing in his neck and shoulders, he didn't seem nearly as scared as she felt. And if he was, he hid it very well. Beth figured he probably wasn't, though. He was experienced with nature, with the woods, and she was willing to bet this wasn't his first experience with a bear. Hell, she wouldn't have even _seen_ it if he hadn't pointed it out to her. She could only be grateful that he was so observant and at home in the wilderness.

As they trekked farther away and put more distance between them and the bears, and she continued watching him move and flow through the dense trees, the panic gradually dissipated. Daryl's head was on a constant swivel, searching for any signs of Momma Bear, but they seemed to have taken the correct path that led them out of the bears' territory. Beth searched around, too, slipping the strap of the Horton over her arm and letting it hang at her side as she trudged over damp moss and mud. Every little flash of black or brown caught her attention and made her repeatedly take second glances, but the only things she saw were more rabbits, squirrels, birds, and the occasional deer or raccoon.

Once the panic had faded away and they'd both walked long enough that it felt safe again, Daryl glanced over his shoulder at Beth and flashed a brief look of relief.

"Think we should be good now," he said. "Dunno where the momma bear was, but 'm pretty sure we won't be runnin' into her."

Beth sighed with relief. "That was jus' a cub, wasn't it? I've never seen a bear in real life before – at least, not without a fence around it."

Daryl shrugged, which didn't surprise her. It was somehow the reaction she'd expected. He slowed his pace until they were walking side-by-side, then he rumbled, "That's the closest I been ta one in a while, but don't worry – I wouldn't let nothin' happen to ya."

She smiled and looked over at him, spotting the flirtatious smirk on his mouth before he turned and went back to staring ahead. Her stomach fluttered, every trace of fear gone. "I know you wouldn't. But what if somethin' happened to _you_? Don't think I'd know what ta do in case of a bear attack – I might end up gettin' us both killed."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Good thing we live in the city then, huh?"

The sky was growing lighter by the minute, darkness and stars fading out to be replaced by sunlight and hints of bright orange and purple. More beams of sun found their way through the countless trees and the thick canopy of leaves. Beth and Daryl walked together quietly, enjoying the approaching warmth of morning, occasionally pointing out a fox or a raccoon that was skittering away into hiding and sharing a smile with each other. The crossbow remained hanging at Beth's side as they focused on more tracking, discussing little tips and new details, following faint trails just to see if they might lead back towards camp.

They were within eyesight of the tree line that would lead them back to the campsite when Daryl stopped in his tracks and glanced back at Beth. He was standing an arm's reach away on her left side, and she paused to give him a quizzical look. He smirked and she quirked an eyebrow in response.

"Ever had snake before?" His deep voice rumbled.

"Huh?" She asked, a hesitant smile forming on her lips. "Are you hittin' on me right now?"

Daryl's face quickly turned pink and he huffed out a breath, audibly suppressing a burst of laughter. He gave her a half-smile and shook his head. " _No_ – I mean, have ya ever eaten an actual snake? _Jesus_ , woman, get yer mind outta the gutter."

Beth giggled, quickly covering her mouth with one hand and shaking her head. She lowered her hand and replied, "Nah, can't say I have – why?"

He raised his eyebrows and gave her a look that she couldn't quite interpret, then reached down with one hand and unsheathed the hunting knife that was clipped to his belt. She watched curiously, surprised when he reached a hand out toward her and jerked his head toward the ground on her opposite side.

"Han' me that stick, would ya?" He asked, and she followed his pointed gaze to one particular stick lying on the ground beside her feet.

It was long and sturdy, and the end forked out to create a Y shape. She was still confused as to why he wanted it, and why he had his knife out, but she quickly picked up the stick and handed it over to him. Then she watched, intrigued, as he grasped the stick in one hand and the knife in the other and turned to his left, eyes narrowed and focused on one specific spot an arm's reach away.

Beth hadn't even realized there'd _been_ a snake there – not until she saw the forked end of Daryl's stick slamming down into the dirt and pinning the mud-colored snake by its small head. Her eyes widened as she watched the long brown serpent writhe desperately. Then, just as fluidly as he fired arrows from the Horton, Daryl was swooping down with his knife and penetrating the snake's head with his sharp blade.

"What – what kinda snake _is_ that? How'd you _see_ it there?" She sputtered, eyes wide and mouth agape. She'd never seen someone kill a snake so confidently.

He discarded the stick and wiped off the blade of his knife before shoving it back into its sheath, then grabbed up the long, limp body of the snake and held it up proudly to reveal its red-tinted underside. He smirked and replied, "Jus' a redbelly, ain't venomous. _Or_ poisonous. I been huntin' snakes since I could walk, don't _nothin'_ get by me."

Beth smiled and chuckled tentatively. "Yeah – I guess so, huh."

She tried not to think about what he'd said as he attached the snake to the stringer on her bag, right alongside the two rabbits. It was conflicting because this was the most assured and self-possessed she'd ever seen him. And she loved watching this side of him emerge, grateful for her chance to see him in his most natural state. But it was painful to hear him speak so confidently about the one thing he was truly skilled in… all the while knowing she was actually slipping something _colossal_ by him. And he had no idea.

Beth was determined not to let those thoughts ruin what remained of their small escape, though. She pushed them from her head, allowed them to settle in her gut with all the other guilt.

They made their way back to camp, emerging from the tree line with content half-smiles on their faces, quietly chuckling to each other over a joke they'd shared beneath the cover of leaves. As soon as they reached the open air and stepped out into beaming morning sunlight, the sound of voices reached their ears. Their paces simultaneously quickened to cross the small opening as the smell of a burning campfire filled Beth's nostrils.

Dwight, Sherry, and Malachi were gathered together around a small fire, sharing one of the logs. They were all dressed in warm clothes, though Sherry and Mal were sharing a heavy blanket that was slung over their shoulders. Dwight and Sherry sipped from steaming mugs of coffee while Mal held a juice box in his small hands.

Upon spotting them, Dwight smiled and announced happily, "There they are!"

And when the toddler's wide, blue eyes looked over and spotted Daryl and Beth approaching, he grinned and immediately jumped up from the log to rush over and wrap his arms around his dad's legs.

"Dad, Rosie! I missed you, where'd ya – _oh_! What'd you – is that _bunnies_?!" Mal exclaimed, staring curiously at the game stringer as Beth slipped it from her back with the bag and held it out.

Daryl chuckled and ruffled Mal's hair before reaching out and taking the stringer from Beth. "Nah, bud, they're jus' rabbits. There's still tons left out there, we seen a bunch. But these ones'll be our breakfast – you hungry?"

Mal's eyes lit up and he nodded fervently, still grinning. "Yeah, I'm hungwy, Dad!" Then he turned his attention to Beth, rushing up to wrap his arms around her legs now that she wasn't holding a stringer of animal carcasses. " _Rosie_! Did – did you hunt, too?!"

Beth smiled and leaned down to give the toddler a brief hug, then nodded toward the stringer in Daryl's hands as he was walking away with it. "Yeah, I did! 'D'ya see the snake?"

Mal's smile grew wider and he watched his dad curiously. "That's a _snake_?!"

She chuckled and nodded, watching with him as Daryl set the stringer down and began laying out a place to skin his kills. Mal immediately turned away from Beth and wandered over to get a closer look at what his dad was doing. His wide blue eyes were set intently on the dead snake now, anticipating the moment that he'd get to see Daryl laying it out for skinning.

"Rabbit fer breakfast?" Sherry asked, eyebrow quirked curiously as she glanced from Beth to Daryl.

Daryl shrugged, laying out a rabbit carcass before him. "Might as well eat what we killed, ain't really try'na take it back with us."

"An' what's the snake for?" Dwight asked, standing from the log and joining Daryl.

"Eatin'," Daryl replied simply.

Dwight grunted, smiling impishly. "I'll pass on that one – li'l too _phallic_ fer me."

Beth and Sherry both laughed, glancing over and sharing amused smiles and eye-rolls as the men teased each other.

"Bullshit," Daryl said. "You inhale bananas like they're goin' outta style."

Sherry laughed loudly and Beth saw Dwight smiling and shaking his head.

"It's true, babe," Sherry commented with a playful smirk.

Beth helped herself to a hot cup of _real_ coffee and took a seat near Sherry, casually watching as Daryl and Dwight worked on the animal carcasses. She listened to their brotherly banter, sharing jokes and laughs with Sherry, sipping coffee and glancing over to see Mal's entranced gaze still focused on his soon-to-be breakfast.

And for a short time, the heavy guilt on her back and the indescribable sense of dread in her gut were forgotten. Beth breathed in mountain air and campfire smoke, tasted black coffee and fire-cooked game meat on her tongue, and heard laughter – from both child and adults. She shared more flirtatious smirks and meaningful glances with Daryl. She even found herself laughing more often than not.

But their remaining time away from society and civilization was fleeting. Before Beth knew it, they were all packed up and heading back down the long, winding roads toward the New York City skyline. Back towards people and news stations and cell phone service.

* * *

The drive felt longer than the first time they'd made it, but Beth figured that was probably because she was so exhausted and ready for a shower. Mal fell asleep within twenty minutes of being on the road, and even though Beth had joined in on the conversations and jokes between Dwight, Sherry, and Daryl, she couldn't support the heaviness of her eyelids after an hour of driving. There was something about a long car ride down quiet, winding highways that almost always made Beth sleepy.

She drifted off into a dreamless sleep without realizing it and awoke when the Ford Explorer finally came to a complete stop. She opened her eyes and looked around long enough to see that they'd stopped at the storage facility, and Daryl was unloading his stuff from the back of the truck and returning it to his storage unit. But she drifted back to sleep almost immediately and didn't wake up again until Daryl was nudging her, telling her that they were home.

 _Home_ , Beth thought, faintly reaching for consciousness like it was a fond memory, momentarily confused and expecting to open her eyes and find herself sitting in the backseat of her daddy's truck with the farm outside the window.

But she quickly remembered where she was as the sleep gradually cleared from her vision and she looked around to see the inside of Dwight's Explorer and the New York City apartment building outside. She couldn't explain the sudden heaviness in her stomach, because it faded away as quickly as it arrived.

She _was_ home, though. It wasn't Georgia and it wasn't the farm, but it felt more like safety than anywhere she'd been in years.

It took a few moments to wake herself up, but once she did, Beth hopped out of the truck and gathered her things, throwing the guitar onto her back and the duffel bag full of her stuff onto her shoulder before jumping in to help Daryl unpack the rest of their belongings from the back of the truck. Mal woke up quickly and began jumping around with endless energy, eager to help the adults. Dwight and Sherry attempted to distract him, giving him small tasks, but he was persistent at his dad's side and under their feet.

They unloaded their stuff with Dwight's help as Sherry attempted to guide Mal over to the front door of the apartment building. He was chattering away about nonsense and Beth was focused on Daryl, standing by and offering to help when he needed, hands at the ready. As Daryl handed her a bag to throw over her shoulder, she saw Mal approaching, racing away from Sherry and straight to Daryl's side. The toddler jumped up and down, demanding his father's attention.

"Mal, go open the door fer us, that'll help a lot," Daryl said, giving his son a stern look.

Mal nodded, blue eyes growing wide. "Okay, Dad!

He turned and quickly raced toward the sidewalk, jumping enthusiastically over the curb. But he tripped and went tumbling forward onto the hard pavement, catching himself with his hands and knees. The sound of his fall caught everyone's attention, and Daryl was the first to whip his head around and look for the toddler.

Everyone froze as they watched Mal stand up, and Beth could see Daryl preparing to set down whatever was in his hands to tend to his son. But instead of beginning to cry, as everyone had seemed to be expecting him to do, Mal quickly brushed his knees off with a small whimper and examined the palms of his hands. When he turned around and looked toward Daryl and Beth, realizing that everyone was watching him, his eyes grew larger and filled with tears, bottom lip trembling.

"Ya alrigh'?" Daryl called out, freeing his hands and stepping away from the truck.

Mal shook his head and let out another whimper, then he dashed back over the curb and ran straight for Beth. She reflexively opened her arms and knelt down to Mal's level as he approached, and when he reached her, he held out his palms for her to see. A few tears were sliding down his pale cheeks.

"Wosie, I got a ouchie," he whined, bottom lip stuck out and blue eyes filled with tears.

Beth's heart dropped to her stomach as she gazed at the toddler and heard his soft, vulnerable voice. She couldn't ignore the painful twinge in her chest as she replied with sympathy and reassurance, "Aw, yer alright – see?"

Then she quickly reached out and took his small hands in hers, examining the scrapes on his palms. She gently brushed off the dirt before giving each hand a light kiss. Just like her momma used to do for her "ouchies" when she was little.

Mal watched her with fascination and his tears quickly receded, a small smile forming on his face as she met his gaze again and smiled softly.

"All better now, huh?" Beth asked, her smile widening right along with his.

He nodded eagerly and pulled his hands back before wrapping his arms around her neck and giving her an impromptu hug. He pulled back and grinned. "T'anks, Rosie! Are – can I help you now? I won't um – I won't fall again."

Beth looked over and up at Daryl, who was still standing beside them. She realized he'd been watching the interaction, and so had Dwight and Sherry. She thought she spotted Sherry nudging Dwight and giving him a knowing smirk, but she was too focused on Daryl's reaction to be sure.

There was something in his eyes that she couldn't quite identify, and for a second, she thought he might be angry. Had she overstepped the line and gotten too motherly with Mal? Was that a parenting moment that she should've stayed out of? Maybe Daryl didn't want Mal to be babied and she'd coddled him when she should've told him to walk it off. But then Daryl was half-smiling and she realized the look in his eyes was something that closer resembled adoration or pleasant surprise. Her heart skipped as she stood up and resituated the guitar and bags strapped to her back, attempting to hide the pink blush rising to her cheeks.

"Yeah, bud, here – carry this inside," Daryl instructed, holding out a small duffel bag for Mal to take. The toddler eagerly reached out and grabbed it, cradling it in both his arms, and turned around to carefully walk toward the front door of the apartment building.

"Looks like you got some competition fer yer kid's favorite person," Dwight commented light-heartedly, waiting for Daryl to pull out the last bag before shutting the rear hatch.

Daryl scoffed, shooting Beth a meaningful glance as the hatch of the Explorer slammed shut. "Ain't nothin' new – he already likes Carol more'an me, what's one more woman I can never match up to?"

Sherry and Dwight laughed aloud at the light-hearted remark and Daryl chuckled sheepishly, flashing Beth a playful smirk before leading the way to the front door of the apartment building. Beth smiled and laughed along with them, quickly following after Daryl. But she couldn't ignore the twinge of guilt this time.

It might've been a joke to Daryl, but for Beth, it sounded a little too honest.

* * *

Malachi gave "Uncle 'Wight" and "Aunt Sherry" long, heartfelt goodbyes, hugging and thanking them for taking him camping upon Daryl's gentle instruction in proper manners. Dwight and Sherry thanked Daryl and "Rosie" for joining them on the trip, all of them agreeing that they would have to do it again soon – even though Beth knew that those plans probably weren't likely to come to fruition. And then they'd parted ways with lots of smiles and hugs and waves and hearty pats on the shoulder.

And coy looks from Sherry, like she was excited to see Daryl's new little romance play out before her eyes. Beth tried not to think about the false confidence that the other woman currently had in her, all of her conclusions based on nothing more than fallacies and elaborate cover-ups. "Rosie" had certainly played her part well. Maybe _too_ well.

Beth was slipping farther and farther away each day – though she occasionally felt herself returning during moments with Daryl, it was more like brief spurts when she allowed her vulnerability to show through the disguise. She only allowed herself to do so because it was _him_. Still, it wasn't enough. Not enough to ever make up for all the lies she'd already told him, to justify the entirely fake persona he'd fallen in love with.

He loved "Rosie," but Beth doubted it was possible for him to love _her_.

Beth, Daryl, and Mal managed to lug their things up the three flights of stairs in one trip, the lobby and stairwell of the apartment building empty and quiet. It was barely past seven a.m. on a Sunday morning and the hall was quiet as they stepped onto the third floor landing. They moved slowly the whole way and Mal was the only one who wasn't out of breath by the time they reached the front door. Apartment 3A was just as they'd left it, dark and silent, undisturbed. Daryl unlocked the door and Mal was the first to shove his way through and rush inside. Eager for a hot shower and a long nap in her soft, warm bed, Beth had to admit that she was just as excited to be entering the stale air of the small space she called home.

Daryl gave Mal instructions to take his own things to his bedroom for unpacking, then Beth helped them both unpack and organize the aftermath. She unpacked her own bag in the privacy of her bedroom afterward, taking her time to sort out her dirty and clean clothes before returning her daddy's pocket watch to its safe spot under her pillow. She pulled out her phone and resisted turning it on as she set it on the bedside table and stepped away. There was still a hint of mountain air lingering in her lungs, and she didn't want to ruin the faint haze that remained in her head by reading news articles or validating the sense of dread that had been nagging at her all weekend.

Whatever bad news there was to be found, it would still be there in a few hours. And it would make no difference what time she read it, because she was still powerless to do anything about it. It might've been selfish of her, but she was giving in and fulfilling her desire for a peaceful Sunday morning with Daryl and Malachi. What was the point of being free if she couldn't enjoy it, anyway?

Daryl had been talking about giving Mal a bath as soon as they'd unpacked and organized, so Beth moved about her bedroom leisurely as she slipped off her boots and put her things away, expecting them to be occupying the bathroom for a while. After a decent amount of time, she gathered a clean outfit and headed down the hall, eying the bedroom at the end and half-expecting to find the boys still struggling to undress. But it was empty, and then she could hear the boys' voices coming from inside the bathroom, though the door was open and she couldn't hear the bathtub faucet running. She approached the open door and peeked inside curiously.

" – _ow_! Dad, that's a mole!"

"Huh? Since when ya had this mole? I need t'take you ta the dermatologist, boy."

Beth couldn't suppress the smile that appeared on her face when she spotted Daryl kneeling on the bathroom floor and Mal standing impatiently in front of him, wearing only his _Paw Patrol_ underwear, while Daryl thoroughly checked him for ticks.

"What's a derbatotajiss?"

"'S a skin doctor."

"Aww, man – 'nother doctor?!"

"Quit yer whinin', jus' be glad we got insurance. When I was a kid, all I got was soup an' cough syrup. Wasn't no such _thing_ as seein' a doctor."

" _Nuh-uh_!"

"Yeah-huh. Now hol' still, we're almos' done."

The toddler's back was turned to Beth and he didn't turn around as she stood and watched, smiling with amusement. But Daryl must've heard her stepping into the doorway because he turned his head and met her gaze through his dark hair.

He smirked at her and before she could make any comments, he announced, "An' yer next!"

Beth raised her eyebrows in surprise as Mal turned his head and spotted her. He grinned.

"Dad, yer gonna check Rosie fer ticks, too?" He asked, twisting around to look at his dad. "Are – are y'gonna take her to a um, to a derba-tong-a-fist?"

Daryl chuckled and Beth suppressed a quiet giggle as he replied, "Nah, bud, she's a grown-up – she's got 'er own doctor. But I sure am gonna check 'er fer ticks, jus' like I'm doin' with you.

Beth was still smiling as she asked from the doorway, "Oh – you are, huh?"

He glanced over at her and gave her a smile that made her stomach flutter giddily. He grunted assuredly in response, " _Uh-huh_."

She rolled her eyes, clutching the clean clothes in her arms a little tighter as Daryl gave Mal a light pat on the shoulder and ruffled his hair, instructing him to go pick out a clean outfit to wear after his shower. The toddler rushed past Beth and out of the bathroom, disappearing inside his and Daryl's bedroom.

"C'mon, then – yer turn," Daryl gestured for her to walk over, still kneeling on the bathroom floor.

Beth laughed and shook her head, "Yer serious? What, you think I can't check myself?"

He chuckled and waved her over once more. "'S just routine around here – ya can't see yer back, at leas' lemme make sure ya ain't gonna get Lyme Disease _this_ week. 'Sides, I need ya ta check _my_ back, too."

She giggled and felt a deep blush rushing up her neck and cheeks as she gave in and appeased Daryl's paranoia. She set her clean clothes aside and pulled off her shirt, allowing him to inspect the bare skin of her back and neck with his rough fingers, chills running down her legs as he teasingly fiddled with her bra straps. His touch left goosebumps down her arms as he moved her hair aside and checked her neck and behind her ears, then searched through her hair and peered down closely at her scalp. She couldn't help but think of the tent in the Catskills, the sleeping bag, the back of the Explorer, and the blanket beside the campfire.

When he'd decided she was all clear, she put her shirt back on and they switched places. And when Mal returned to the bathroom with clean clothes clutched in his small fists, Beth was carefully inspecting Daryl's bare back and neck for sly parasites. The toddler laughed and quickly ran over to join, which turned into a tickle fight between the three of them when Mal wouldn't stop poking Daryl in the armpits.

Daryl and Mal finally regained their composure and once Beth had set her clean clothes on the counter and left the bathroom, the boys hopped into the shower together. She wandered into the living room and opened up the windows to let in the cool, fresh air. Then she headed to the kitchen and and began brewing a pot of coffee with a relaxed smile on her face. She listened to the faint sounds of Daryl's and Mal's voices coming from behind the bathroom door down the hall, as well as the sounds of the city waking up and coming to life outside.

Once again, it was an unusual Sunday. But somehow it still felt more normal than any Sunday she'd had in a long time.

Sipping hot coffee and standing silently in the kitchen, she was tempted to retrieve her phone and turn it on, or to turn on the TV and check the news stations. But just as the urge was becoming too difficult to resist, she heard the shower being turned off. A moment later, the bathroom door opened and she stepped into the hallway to watch as steam rolled out and evaporated. The smell of bubblegum shampoo and Irish Spring soap filled her nostrils, mixing with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee to create an oddly nostalgic scent.

A few minutes later, the boys' voices louder as they drifted out from the open bathroom door, Beth watched with amusement as Mal raced excitedly down the hall. She didn't see much more than a flash of wet, blond hair and a black-and-yellow striped sweater, but then Daryl appeared. All the dirt, grease, and grime had been scrubbed away, freshly-washed hair plastered to his forehead and small beads of water still tracing paths down his bare chest as he paused in the doorway. He was wearing sweatpants and holding a T-shirt in his hand, and Beth's smile turned bashful as their eyes met, trying her best not to stare at his exposed torso.

He flashed her a flirtatious smirk and nodded toward the bathroom behind him, "All yers." Then he disappeared down the hall and into his bedroom after Mal.

The desire for a hot shower overshadowed any other desires that may have been crossing Beth's mind. She quickly finished her coffee before entering the bathroom and shutting the door tightly behind her. The floor was still wet and the mirror was fogged over, but there was plenty of hot water left and she wasted no time stripping off all her dirty clothes and tossing them into a pile on the floor. She untied all the braids from her hair and ran a brush through the dark, greasy tangles. Then she brushed her teeth vigorously before stepping into the shower.

She replayed the entirety of the camping trip inside her head as she went through a leisurely routine of washing, shaving, and exfoliating nearly every inch of her body. The particularly intimate moments with Daryl sent a pool of need rapidly gathering between her legs, no matter how many times she reminisced on them. The memory of his deep growl in her ear sent shivers down her spine, but that was nothing compared to the bursting fireworks she felt in her stomach as she recalled the palpable vulnerability in his low voice when he'd told her that he was in love with her.

She caught herself smiling over absolutely nothing at all as she stood beneath the hot shower, feeling a glimmer of confidence and assurance. Like maybe she'd finally figured it out – maybe she'd known more than Maggie ever had, maybe she'd always been destined to outgrow her big sister. To outgrow and overcome all the foreboding potential futures that had loomed over her family. To escape the path that had been designed for her. Maybe she'd always been meant to leave the farm and never return, because that was the only way she could find the determination to forge her _own_ path.

Would she have even been able to do it without Daryl, though? Maybe she wasn't anywhere near as self-sufficient as she was beginning to think she was. She could certainly admit that she wouldn't have been able to get this far without Dale and Irma, or Carol, or Dr. Dana… She was well accustomed to accepting the harsh truths by now, but it was difficult to admit that she was the combined, selfless, hopeful effort of several strangers, rather than the molded Greene girl that she was bred to be. When it came to facing reality, this handful of random people she'd happened upon had ended up helping her in more ways than her family ever could have. They'd ended up showing her more about pure love and self-acceptance than she would've thought possible. Somehow, they'd all gotten under her skin in a way that was difficult to escape.

But _fuck_ , what did it mean that they were all interacting with "Rosie" and not Beth? Just like Daryl, they'd all fallen for a fake persona. Even Mal had fallen for "Rosie." He'd never met Beth, and he would probably be terrified of her, anyway – messy blonde hair, scarred wrist, black eye, cut lip, smoking gun in her hand. _Anyone_ would run in the opposite direction if they met the real Beth. Especially Daryl. He'd know she was trouble just by looking at her.

The soap and hot water proved to wash away all the accumulated dirt and oil, but not even the soothing steam could clear the poisonous thoughts clogging up the inside of Beth's head. She managed to pull herself from the darker parts of her mind with the anticipation of spending the entire day with Daryl and Mal, who were just down the hall, waiting for her. But that deep sense of dread that had been haunting her all weekend was making its presence known in her gut again, and she didn't have the willpower to ignore her urge for an answer. She wouldn't be able to fully relax for the entire rest of the day if she didn't reassure herself of what to expect, or what was happening – what _could_ have happened while she was hiding away in the mountains.

Beth exited the shower and dried off quickly, running a brush through her damp hair and dressing in soft sweatpants and an oversized shirt. Then she gathered her dirty clothes and left the bathroom, heading directly into her bedroom and setting the clothes with her other dirty laundry before walking over and picking up her phone. It was still turned off, sitting on the bedside table where she'd left it.

She didn't bother sitting down on the edge of the bed as she stood beside the nightstand and turned the phone on, silently planning to do a brief check of national headlines – just to reassure herself. Just to silence that nagging, worrisome voice that had been at the back of her head for the past two days. It would only take a couple of minutes, she told herself. Just a brief skim of the headlines. Then she could go into the living room, where she could hear the boys watching TV and playing, and she could join them and have a peaceful Sunday in their safe bubble.

Her phone took a few long seconds to power up, the screen slowly coming to life as the service bars reappeared in the corner. Almost instantly, the notifications began to appear. The phone vibrated in her hand repeatedly and sent a jolt of fear through her body each time as she watched the bright red notifications appear: _5 new emails_ , _13 new Google Alerts_ , _2 new text messages_ , and _1 missed call_.

Beth's heart was racing and she fought to keep her hands from trembling as she tapped on the most important notification first. The text messages were from Clem and Tara, but the missed call was from an Unknown number. She opened up her email app and found that all five of the new emails she'd received were from Jesus. They began at 12:09 a.m. – mere hours before Beth had returned to the city. And the most recent one received had arrived in her inbox at 7:42 – less than two hours ago.

 _ **Oct 1, 12:09 AM**_ _  
Mary Magdalene_

 _ **Oct 1, 2:12 AM**_ _  
He is Risen. Answer the call._

 _ **Oct 1, 4:28 AM**_ _  
Refuge at risk ?_

 _ **Oct 1, 5:59 AM**_ _  
Have you forsaken Him?_

 _ **Oct 1, 7:42 AM**_ _  
Final chance. Respond by 12pm. All contact will be broken._

Beth fought to keep her hands from trembling as she realized that Jesus had tried to call her and she'd _missed_ it. And now he was about to cut off all contact. She checked the time and reassured herself that it was barely past ten a.m., but that didn't alleviate the fear spreading through her body as she frantically typed out an email in response:

 _Went out of cell service for 2 days. Call again, I'm still here. No risk. Still waiting._

And then she hit Send. Once she was positive that her reply had gone through, she didn't waste time opening her Google Alerts. Instead, she opened the internet browser and rapidly tapped her way to the national news sites. Her heart thumped so hard in her ears that she couldn't even hear the faint sounds of the boys in the living room anymore. The only thing going through her head was the image of Daryl waiting for her on the couch with the TV in front of him, a news station showing her picture while an anchor went into gruesome details about all the awful things she'd done. She was imagining the look of shock and horror that would be on his face, quickly followed by the look of absolute abhorrence. It made her stomach turn, threatening to heave up all the coffee she'd recently drank.

Cursing and praying under her breath, Beth scrolled through all the major national news headlines, searching for mentions of her family or herself or, more notably, Rick Grimes. She knew that whatever had happened _had_ to involve Detective Grimes somehow. Why else would Jesus have worded his email that way?

But there was nothing about the Greene Family or Rick Grimes or anyone else involved in Beth's case. It was all politics and foreign affairs and the usual nonsense that always seemed to be going on. She began to slightly relax, slowing her racing thoughts and pulse, forcing herself to think reassuringly. This was already good news – the fact that she hadn't gone national yet. That meant she wasn't about to walk out to the living room and find her senior photo being shown on every news network. However, it didn't mean she was out of the woods yet. There had to be a reason that Jesus's messages sounded so frantic.

She navigated her way to the Georgia news headlines, inadvertently holding her breath as she scrolled down the page. And just as she'd feared, Detective Grimes' name was glaring up at her in bold, bright red font. It was the fourth headline on the page, and one of the most viewed links so far. Beth's stomach dropped down to her feet when she saw the date and realized that the article had been published 'one day ago.'

Rick Grimes had been awake for an entire day and she'd had no _fucking_ idea.

She could feel the blood rushing to her face as she clicked the headline: " _Detective Rick Grimes Wakes From 34-Day Coma_." Any ounce of relief that Beth might've been grasping onto was rapidly slipping out of reach, and her muscles tensed in anticipation.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ she thought. _What does this mean – what does he know?_

She tapped the headline and began to read the article, trying her hardest to continue breathing normally:

 _ **ATLANTA (Sept 30 5:39 PM):**_ _According to various corroborating reports, Detective Rick Grimes has miraculously awoken from a 34-day coma. As we reported earlier this month, Det. Grimes was severely injured during an undercover operation to apprehend Hershel Greene and the entire Greene Family, ending a decade-long drug empire. On the night of August 26th, Det. Grimes' partner, Detective Shane Walsh, was killed instantly with a Beretta 92 fired by the youngest Greene Family member, Beth. The eldest Greene sibling, Maggie, left Det. Grimes with a traumatic brain injury courtesy of an antique lamp._

 _Earlier today, September 30th, Rick Grimes became responsive for the first time since his near-death experience on August 26th. According to numerous sources at Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta, where Det. Grimes has been recovering, Rick became fully responsive early in the morning. He has shown no signs of deterioration and his brain trauma seems to be healing miraculously, with reports of little to no side effects._

 _Wife, Lori, and young son, Carl, were spotted during a visit this afternoon, reportedly "very emotional." Det. Grimes remains under intense care and observation. When reached for comment, Dr. Steven Edwards, head of Grady Memorial Neurology Department and the physician assigned to Rick's case, was unavailable._

 _At this time, the Grimes Family has requested privacy and respect in their time of healing. Hershel Greene and daughter, Maggie Greene, remain in custody with no set bail while they await trial. Beth Greene remains missing and wanted by federal law enforcement agents for the alleged murder of Detective Shane Walsh. When reached for a remark on how Det. Grimes' testimony could affect the Greene's sentencing, the District Attorney refused to comment at this time._

 _Stay tuned to WSAV for updates as information becomes available._

Beth didn't stop to think about what she'd just read. She'd expected it, so it was more like watching a predictable movie play out. Of _course_ Detective Grimes had fucking woken up, of course they'd found something to get new interest in the case. Of course there was something else pushing the story closer and closer to national attention, pushing Beth closer and closer to being revealed. What else had she really expected?

She knew it was only a matter of time until the news began speculating and digging their claws into every theory that might pertain to how Rick Grimes' survival would play into the sentencing of the Greene Family. Would he go up on stand, head wrapped in bandages, and beg the jury to put Hershel to death? Would he wrap an arm around his wife and yell at the news cameras, demanding that they lock up the whole Greene Family for life? Either way, he'd be there, avenging his dead partner. Telling his heroic story, crying his crocodile tears about how the little blonde girl shot Officer Walsh dead right then and there without a moment's hesitation. Painting her as the ruthless killer they all thought she was. Beth imagined that Rick Grimes would probably want front row seats to her daddy's execution. Or his Life sentencing.

Because Hershel would be the only vengeance he _could_ get. Because he'd never get the satisfaction of seeing Beth in that position. She'd never _let_ him.

" _It's all part of God's plan,"_ her daddy used to say. Was he still saying it now, while he sat behind bars and waited to die?

Her jaw was clenching reflexively as she navigated to the Atlanta news site and scrolled through the headlines. As expected, " _Officer Wakes From 34-Day Coma_ " was one of the top updates. When she clicked the link and read the article, though, she found it to be much more vague than what the other news station had reported, even though both stories were posted around the same time and contained about the same amount of information.

And momentarily, Beth wondered what kind of "sources" the Georgia news station might have that the local Atlanta station didn't – or what sources they might have that the Atlanta station _disagreed_ with.

She read the brief article, the repetition of news in a slightly different delivery making it all seem that much more real as the apprehension set in:

 _ **September 30, 5:24 PM:**_ _Early this morning, Detective Rick Grimes of Atlanta awoke from a 34-day coma in Grady Memorial Hospital. As was reported last month, Det. Grimes and his partner, Detective Shane Walsh, were both injured in the line of duty late on the night of August 26th. While Det. Walsh did not survive his injuries, Det. Grimes was unresponsive but breathing when authorities reached them at the site of their undercover drug bust operation on the Greene Family Farm outside of Senoia._

 _After over a month in a coma, Det. Grimes is reported to be conscious and alert with little to no side effects. The staff of Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta is under strict orders to maintain privacy for Grimes and his family while under their intensive care._

 _The prosecution and defense working on the extensive Greene Family case has refused to comment on the news of Det. Grimes' condition, citing confidentiality in the upcoming trial. Meanwhile, kingpin Hershel Greene's eldest daughter, Maggie Greene-Rhee, and her husband, Glenn, have pleaded Not Guilty to multiple felonies, including Assault with a Deadly Weapon and Attempted Murder of an Officer of the Law._

 _The youngest Greene daughter, Beth, is still missing and wanted by federal law enforcement agents for the alleged murder of Detective Shane Walsh. She was last seen fleeing north or northeast of Senoia on the night of August 26th. Sources have disclosed that Beth Greene may be operating under a false identity or disguise. Authorities warn that she is armed and dangerous._

 _The FBI is currently offering a $50,000 reward for any information that could lead to Beth Greene's arrest._

Beth's eyes lingered on the final sentence of the article and she swallowed hard, struggling to process the realization. A thousand separate memories were silently playing, leaving her with fragments of warnings and veiled threats.

 _A reward?_ She thought. _Fuck. I'm on the FBI's Most Wanted list. Just like Jesus said I'd be. I_ _ **have**_ _ta be – there's no doubt about it now. Why else would they word it like that? Why else would they offer so much money just for a hint of where I might be?_

Her hands trembled but there was no use trying to still them. Her head was vying with dozens and dozens of contradicting thoughts, fears, and plans. She tried to focus on breathing in steadily through her nose and letting it settle in her lungs. But her heart was racing uncontrollably and it was the only sound filling her ears. They'd included her senior photo and a toll-free hotline at the bottom of the page, and her eyes began to blur with tears as she exited the browser and tried to force the image out of her head.

She let out a deep breath and checked her new text messages. Tara and Clem had texted her about the self-defense class while she was in the Catskills, which only gave Beth a very brief sense of relief. She couldn't stop herself from wondering how much longer she had before they would be texting and asking why her face was showing up on their TVs and social media feeds.

Beth braced herself and checked the Google Alerts: two of the alerts had been for the articles she'd just read. However, that left eleven others from outside news sources. She scrolled through the list and began clicking on links, navigating news websites and skimming over articles that were even more brief and inconclusive than the Georgia and Atlanta reports. There was one from a news outlet in South Carolina, one in North Carolina, two in Tennessee, two in Kentucky, two in Pennsylvania, one in West Virginia, and one in Washington, D.C. None of them seemed to have much information, and though it wasn't likely they'd garner a lot of attention, it was enough to keep her from _ever_ returning to the south or any of its slightly bordering states.

The farther north that the story seemed to reach and the more that she read about Rick Grimes' "miraculous" recovery, the more dread Beth felt building up in the pit of her stomach. And just when she thought her heart couldn't possibly beat any more erratically, she found that the final Google Alert was for a national news outlet that she hadn't thought to check during her initial frantic search – a news outlet that had never crossed her mind as a potential threat to her current disguise… Fox _fucking_ News.

At the bottom of Fox News' website, past a long list of right-wing political, overtly biased, and theocracy-driven news reports, was a highlighted link. It was the last link in a short list labelled "Editor's Picks" and categorized under "U.S.," for a headline that read: " _Undercover officer injured in Georgia drug bust wakes from 34-day coma while slain partner's murderer remains missing and wanted._ "

She clicked the link and fought to force back the bile that was rapidly rising in her throat as she skimmed through the article. It had no information that she didn't already know, though it certainly painted her and her entire family in a much darker light than most other news sources. The author didn't hesitate to put heavy emphasis on Grimes' "miraculous" recovery and Walsh's "untimely" demise, nor did they resist from mentioning the deep emotional turmoil that both officers' families were currently facing. There were even a few references to other similar cases in which officers were killed in the line of duty across the country and the murderers were never apprehended or "brought to justice." Despite the faux empathy resonating throughout the poorly-written article, Beth could clearly read the deep resentment and desire for her blood within the words. These people wanted to see her in an electric chair, or lying on a table with a needle in her arm. They didn't actually give a shit about Rick's family or Shane's itchy trigger finger.

What's more was the description of her family's business – their illicit activities were more than enough fuel for the "War On Drugs" fire that seemed to be burning under this author's ass. With scattered mentions of how the Greene Family had supplied the greater Atlanta area with top-grade meth for the better part of a decade, what good person in their right mind could read this news report and not want to see Beth apprehended and put behind bars? She could already picture the horrified faces of middle-aged white women all over America as they clutched their pearls and read about the terrifying and dangerous Beth Greene, the 18-year-old blonde girl who'd disgraced everything her religious beliefs and wholesome appearance had ever stood for. The little girl who'd obviously been raised as a cold-blooded killer by a heinous drug lord, following in the footsteps of her felon older sister while the trail of their mother's and brother's blood dripped behind her. The young woman with no moral compass, no sense of right and wrong, no _heart_.

The last line of the news article mentioned the FBI's reward for information, and below that was a high-resolution photo of Beth's senior portrait alongside a toll-free hotline, email address, and a link to a website that contained the full list of the FBI's most wanted fugitives. And, clutching the phone with both trembling hands, Beth scrolled slightly farther down and found a comments section that connected to social media.

She struggled to begin reading the first comment in a long list, but the tears quickly blurred her vision and filled her eyes to the point that she had to shut them tightly. Everyone wanted to see her head on a pike, _especially_ the general public. She couldn't bear to read more than two sentences of the stranger's comments. The guilt and dread and absolute fucking terror had somehow joined together and combined to form a hard, painful stone that nearly filled the entirety of Beth's gut. She couldn't decide if she was about to vomit or faint because both sensations were suddenly overwhelming her.

 _Fox News,_ she thought. Her head throbbed, sending a painful ache down the length of her spine as the nagging voices overtook her consciousness. _Fucking Fox News – the goddamn media. Eight states and one national network – which means it's basically the whole fucking country. I'm so screwed. I'm_ _ **done**_ _. Everyone will know. It's only a matter of time until it picks up and everyone is reporting on it. And then Daryl will find out, Carol will know, all the girls will find out. I'll never see Malachi again. I'll have to leave. Or they'll turn me in – and then the state of Georgia will execute me before I turn twenty-five._

Beth roughly wiped the tears from her eyes and struggled to keep her hands steady enough to continue grasping the phone. She managed to exit the news website and check her email again, praying that Jesus had responded so that she might feel the slightest hint of hope. But it had been nearly ten minutes and there was still no response. Still no call. Still no reassurance whatsoever. She refreshed her email inbox a dozen times for at least a full minute before she angrily locked the screen and slammed the phone down on her bedside table with a hard _thunk_.

She blinked away more pooling tears and looked up, her gaze drawn to the ornate crucifix hanging above the dresser a few feet away. The crucifix that resembled the same one hanging in the dining room of the farmhouse, and the stone-carved cross that marked Momma and Shawn's graves. An odd and slightly out-of-place thought crossed her mind as she felt her entire skull become inexplicably weightless and she silently wondered, _What the hell am I doing here?_

In the back of her head, she heard the echo of her daddy's faint voice: _"It's all part of God's plan, Bethy."_

And suddenly, her hands were trembling again – no, they were outright _shaking_ uncontrollably. Her heart had already been thumping hard against the inside of her chest, but now it was rabbiting erratically, as if it were trying to escape the confines of her sternum. An icy cold rush began at the top of her head and dribbled down the back of her neck, through her shoulders, like someone had just poured a cold glass of water into a hole at the top of her head. Or maybe all the blood was draining from her brain. She didn't have a chance to wonder because her ribcage was constricting inside her. An invisible hand was wrapping its long, spindly fingers around her lungs and squeezing tightly.

Beth quickly looked away from the cross and down at the darkened phone sitting on her nightstand, but the hand tightened its grasp on her lungs. She forced herself to remain still and draw in a deep breath, repeatedly told herself that she just needed to calm down and take a goddamn breath, but it simply wouldn't come. Her lungs wouldn't expand, her chest wouldn't rise, and the air wouldn't _fucking_ fill her body. She began to gasp, heart racing faster, head rushing with blood and fear and terrible thoughts. A million tiny needles formed beneath her skin, starting in her limbs and spreading upward, as if her entire body was losing blood circulation.

 _Fuck, okay – breathe, breathe,_ Beth told herself, looking around frantically, avoiding the cross on the wall. _This ain't the farm, I'm not in that closet right now, I'm not watchin' anybody die – but why's it_ _ **feel**_ _like I am? I made it out, I can keep goin'. No, but I can't. No, it's okay, I just gotta keep goin'. If Jesus –_ _ **fuck**_ _. He's done. He's given up on me. I'm all alone, I don't have_ _ **anybody**_ _. No one knows who I really am an' if they find out, they'll turn me in. It's over. I'm stuck in America, I'll never escape – shit, the cops are gonna find me. The news is going national. Daryl and Mal are probably in the living room watching it right fucking now. They're gonna_ _ **leave**_ _me and I'm gonna be alone with nowhere to go, no plan, absolutely no fucking_ _ **chance**_ _._

Black spots were quickly filling her vision. She tried to blink them away but they only intensified, creeping up from her peripherals until she was looking down a long, dark tunnel. She blinked again and then she was looking through the slats of a closet door. Her limbs grew lighter, more numb, tingling with a painful static sensation, and the more she gasped for breath, the worse it got. Her heart was beating so hard that it felt like a sharp stabbing inside her chest. The tears poured down her cheeks but she barely noticed them. Her hands were at her neck, grasping for the noose that wasn't there, desperate to rip her own throat out just for the _chance_ at a full breath.

 _This is it, I'm dying – it's over, I can't breathe, I'm dying, everyone is leaving me and now I'm fucking_ _ **dying**_ _and they'll all celebrate because I'll finally be fucking gone,_ she thought. The maniacal voices filled her head and effectively drowned out any other sounds around her.

She could feel herself slowly losing consciousness and was desperate to avoid it, silently telling herself that if she just _sat down_ , she'd be fine. But she was too frantic and weak to step over to the bed and sit down, and then she blinked and found herself on the floor, on her knees. She was so focused on her struggle for air that she hadn't fully realized how dizzy she'd become until her legs were giving out beneath her and she was collapsing beneath her own weight. Her head simultaneously weighed a million pounds and nothing at all, and the sensation of static and needles had filled her skull just like it had filled her limbs.

The panic enveloped her, swallowing Beth whole and pulling her down into its deep, dark, hopeless abyss. As she continued gasping for breath and clawing at her neck and chest, the abysmal thoughts grew louder and more intense inside her head, until they were all she could hear, all she could focus on. She was convinced it was the call of Death Itself ringing in her ears.

 _This is it. It's over. This is how it ends – and Maggie an' Daddy will be so goddamn disappointed. Daryl and Mal and everyone else will hate me. They'll spit on my grave. Daryl will be scarred forever, he'll never trust another person again. Everything Momma and Shawn died for was pointless. It was all pointless. My whole life lived like that jus' ta die of suffocation, or a heart attack, or whatever the fuck is happening ta me right now… an' I_ _ **deserve**_ _it. I killed a cop, I'm the reason Jimmy is dead, and I killed my unborn baby. This is it, this is the fucking ending I deserve._

She hadn't realized that she'd dropped to her knees so hard until she felt someone beside her, reaching out and grabbing her. But it must've made a loud sound when her knees hit the carpet because she'd attracted someone's attention and they had entered the room. She was confused and couldn't quite remember where she was or who she was with. She turned and looked up in bewilderment, still gasping for breath, waiting for the inevitable darkness of either death or unconsciousness to consume her.

And there was Daryl, crouching down beside her, reaching out and grabbing her wrists firmly, pulling them away from her throat. Her eyes wouldn't stop moving, searching around the room in panic, but when they found Daryl, she focused in on him and her vision cleared just enough that she could see his familiar face, the concern in his eyes. She could also see his mouth moving, and she could hear his voice, but the words sounded all mumbled together – like he was trying to talk to her underwater.

Beth gasped harder, hands shaking as Daryl grasped her wrists and stared intently into her eyes, urging her to focus on him. There were tears gathering in his eyes and the look of fear on his face sent a fresh wave of panic collapsing over her. She could see it in his expression – he knew she was dying, too. And he had no idea how to help. And now he'd have to watch her die and she would have to make him go through another horribly traumatic experience.

Finally, his words broke through the loud sea of rushing blood that had filled her ears – his low growl of a voice was frantic but much calmer and steadier than she'd expected. "Babe – babe, _talk_ to me, _please_! What's goin' on? Is it asthma? _Rosie_! Do you have asthma? D'you need an inhaler?!"

Beth's mouth had gone just as numb and tingly as the rest of her body and she didn't think she could form words when she was struggling so hard for air. But she managed to answer, her voice unrecognizable in her own ears as it came out breathless and frantic, "No, I – n-no, no asthma – I think – I-I think – I'm dying. Daryl, I'm _dying_!"

She'd tried not to, but a sob escaped her throat, stealing more precious oxygen from her struggling lungs. A fresh batch of tears poured down her cheeks and she suddenly realized she was grasping at Daryl's arms, digging her nails into his skin like he was a lifesaver in the open ocean.

As if her mind were retreating to a safe place locked far away in the back of Beth's head, she was suddenly overcome with the desire to go home. She was terrified and weak and completely alone. She was dying in a city where no one knew her real name, and this wasn't at all how she'd wanted to go out. She wanted to be back in Georgia, on the farm, in her own house. She wanted to be in her familiar bed, the blankets wrapped tight around her, with Daddy and Maggie and Glenn just across the hall. She wanted to feel her momma's comforting arms around her one more time.

She didn't want to _do_ this anymore. She _couldn't_ do this anymore. She wasn't _strong_ enough to do it all alone. She wanted to go _home_.

The tears continued to pour freely from her eyes as she blinked them away, gazing back at Daryl through blurred vision. He was furrowing his brow and studying her, searching for any signs of a physical wound that he could fix. His hands were still grasping her wrists, but Beth could barely feel them. She knew he was the only thing keeping her upright at this point, though.

"Babe – yer not _dying_ , yer having a _panic_ _attack_ ," he said firmly, leaning in close and staring intently into her eyes, enunciating his words slowly and clearly while audibly struggling to remain calm. "Listen t'me – _breathe_. Alrigh'? Look'it me – I'm _right here_. Jus' breathe, it's okay, ya ain't dyin'."

But his words didn't register properly in Beth's ears. He was talking nonsense and she knew he was wrong because she couldn't breathe, couldn't even get her lungs to expand enough to accept the oxygen she so desperately needed, couldn't seem to figure out how the hell to successfully perform the most natural instinct she'd possessed for her entire life. And her vision was going black and her heart was about to explode and she was fucking _dying_ right here in front of him. He had no idea what he was talking about, he was just being comforting because he didn't know what else to do. She was sure of it. It wasn't as easy as "just breathing" – she'd been fucking _trying_ that and it hadn't _worked_.

"No – I-I'm dying, I can't – I can't _breathe_ , it won't _work_!" She gasped, tears dripping from her chin onto her sweatpants and the carpet. "I-I wanna – Daryl, I wanna go _home_. I don't _wanna_ die, I'm not _ready_ t'die…"

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to force herself to inhale again, barely getting enough oxygen to sustain the sob that was escaping her throat. She was ready to let the darkness envelop her, ready to let the taunting voices in her mind have their victory. She could no longer feel Daryl's hands on her wrists or his skin beneath her fingertips.

His voice was pain-stricken, a tone that Beth had never heard before and could barely recognize. But it filled her ears and drowned out all the ominous thoughts crowding her head and pushing her closer to the edge.

" _Home_? Sweetheart, you _are_ home."

Then she felt a heavy warmth wrapping around her shoulders and his familiar smell filled her nostrils and she allowed him to pull her in close. His arms had encompassed her and were holding her tightly, sitting on the floor beside her, grasping her reassuringly and prying her death-grip loose from his forearms so he could pull her in against his body and hold her.

But she was shaking her head, every single nerve in her body on edge and sending pain through her muscles. She was still gasping for breath, fighting to inhale deeply like Daryl had instructed. Her head was so light she thought she might lose consciousness at any moment, and she was almost positive that she wouldn't _ever_ wake up. There was pure fear coursing through her veins, pumping straight into her heart and constricting everything within her sternum and ribcage.

"No – no, yer gonna leave me, yer gonna _hate_ me," she sobbed and sputtered uncontrollably into his shoulder between breathless gasps, the words pouring from her mouth in waves of grief. She faintly felt the warmth of his large palm against her back, his other hand grasping her upper arm. "I-I don't wanna die here, I wanna go _home_."

Then his hand was cupping the back of her head, tangling in her hair, warming the chill that had formed at the base of her skull and giving her a solid foundation to lean against. He carefully pulled her away, just enough that he could see her face. Her eyelids fluttered open and as she met Daryl's unwavering gaze through tears, the panic slowly began to recede. For the first time in what felt like forever, she inhaled and partially filled her lungs. The foggy blackness clouding the edges of her vision was gradually dissipating.

"Hey – 's alright, okay? I'm _right here_ , I ain't goin' nowhere, I promise," his voice was a slow drawl, calm and soothing, penetrating Beth's skin and seeping into her sore muscles. "I could _never_ hate you, an' yer _not_ dying – I _promise_. Jus' breathe, like that… it's a panic attack. Nothin' more'an that." His tone grew softer, quieter, and she could feel his fingers massaging the back of her head comfortingly. "Yer gonna be _fine_ , babe, I'm right here, yer okay. Everythin's okay…"

As Beth stared back at Daryl, she noticed the way he was accentuating the action of breathing in and out deeply, and reflexively, she attempted to imitate the motions. Within seconds, her lungs were filling with fresh air, inhaling and exhaling in a deep, slow repetition. The tears had settled in her eyes and were drying on her cheeks, and all the feeling was rapidly returning to her limbs. The most relieving sensation was the return of normal blood flow to her brain, which was immediately followed by the return of her balance and self-awareness.

And then she was finally accepting the fact that she was _not_ dying, and that it had been nothing more than a panic attack, just like Daryl said. But how was _she_ supposed to know that? To her knowledge, she'd never experienced a panic attack before. She'd never been unable to breathe, nor had she ever felt her heart beating so impossibly fast. It had legitimately felt like death was at her door.

Yet as quickly as it had come, it seemed to be gone. Her breathing steadied, her heart quieted, the aching pain receded, and the tears stopped forming. Daryl wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in closely once he realized she'd caught her breath and stopped shaking, and the warmth of his embrace seemed to anchor her back to Earth. As the fear and panic disappeared, it was replaced with embarrassment and shame. Beth buried her face into the crook of Daryl's neck and continued inhaling deeply, exhaling with insurmountable relief.

She felt like an idiot – a complete buffoon. She could only imagine that Daryl must think she was some kind of drama queen, or just a total nutcase. The nagging voices that had convinced her she was on the verge of death hadn't silenced, because now they were reminding her that Daryl had plenty of his own problems to deal with, and seeing her having a mental breakdown over seemingly nothing at all on her bedroom floor definitely wasn't the most appealing thing she could've done. They were also reminding her that he was probably doubting ever saying that he loved her because clearly, he hadn't realized how crazy and fucked-up she actually was.

And how much longer could she continue living this lie until it completely debilitated her with panic attacks and overwhelming anxiety?

Would it even matter once they all saw the news and recognized Beth's face?

She shivered when she felt Daryl's hand moving to stroke the side of her head, brushing the hair away from her face and ghosting his fingertips across her cheek. Then she felt him pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, keeping her held tightly against his body with her face buried in the crook of his neck.

"Ya alright now?" His low voice filled her ears and erased any remaining tension in her muscles.

She nodded against his shoulder, still hesitant to lift her head or face him. She was silently trying to make sense of what had overwhelmed her, but it was becoming a blur of fear and stress and unbearable pressure. It was terrifying. She'd never experienced anything like it – at least not that intensely.

She felt obligated to explain herself, to apologize for being so needy. She mumbled against his neck, "'M sorry – I'ono what happened. I've never – I only felt like that one time before, but not… like _that_. I thought – it really felt like I was gonna die."

She bit down on her lower lip and buried her face deeper into Daryl's warm shoulder, swallowing back the small confessions that wanted to pour from her lips. But she wouldn't allow herself to think about that 'one time before' right now. She refused to let that memory surface in her mind again, even for a second. That slatted closet door wanted to make an appearance in the blacks of her eyelids, but she quickly breathed in Daryl's comforting scent and leaned into him a little more. The haunting scene faded away before it could begin playing.

He stroked the side of her head meaningfully and hummed in reassurance, deep and low, the sound vibrating in his throat. Then he whispered, "Don't be sorry. I love you, okay? Don't matter what happened before, it can't hurt you here. Yer safe now. I'll make sure of it."

A knot formed in her throat and she quickly swallowed it down, along with the sparse tears that threatened to form in her puffy eyes. His words permeated her skin and sent the guilt reverberating loudly through every bone in her body. She sniffled and pulled her head back to face Daryl, meeting his concerned gaze.

"I… love you, too," Beth said softly, her voice cracking. "But I'm _not_ safe. I dunno if I'll _ever_ feel safe. Even with you."

Deep, swirling pools of blue were studying her, seeing right through her. His brow creased and his lips parted, and she could see that he thought she was still delusional or confused. He was growing more and more concerned. "Rosie, he ain't comin' ta _get_ you all the way out here. Nobody's _comin'_ fer you."

 _Yes, they are, oh God, they are – all of them, and you have no idea,_ she thought, inhaling deeply and holding it for a long second. She could see flashes of men in dark suits, sunglasses, and heavy boots. Men with faces that resembled Simon and Randall. Shiny black Dodge Chargers and brand new BMWs with darkly-tinted windows.

Another voice piped up from the back of her head: _Tell him. Tell him. Tell him._

But then it was silenced by a louder voice, screaming at her: _He'll leave you! He'll turn you in! You'll never see him again, you'll_ _ **never**_ _be free again!_

As Beth slowly exhaled, the words tumbled from her chapped lips and she watched the countless questions forming behind Daryl's confused expression. "Daryl, I lied about where I'm from – I'm not _from_ Alabama. I'm from Georgia, like you."

He smirked at first, like maybe he really _did_ think she was still confused, or maybe she was making some kind of weird joke. But then it faded when her stoic gaze didn't falter, and his brow furrowed. She expected him to reel back in disgust, and she was trying to prepare herself for the burst of anger that was bound to explode from him. Yet his gaze softened and he frowned, and then she felt his large hands wrapping around her wrists, settling in his lap comfortingly while he studied her.

"Ya are?" He asked.

It was a simple question, and his tone implied that he was looking for no more than a simple yes or no answer. But even the tiny bit of remorse that had been erased with her small confession couldn't compare to the larger mass that resided within her stomach. There was still a part of her that wanted so badly to pour it all out before him, right here on the bedroom floor. But her logical side told her that it would be too much at once, too overwhelming to process. Daryl could never handle it, he could never _understand_. Not yet, anyway.

She nodded, flicking her tongue out across her burning lips. Her voice came out quiet and hesitant, "I'm sorry I lied… I had to."

He blinked and shook his head, squeezing her wrists lightly. "'S alright… I mean, ain't hard ta understand why ya felt like ya had to, but…" He glanced away, down at his hands wrapped around her wrists. She felt his thumb stroking the soft skin of her forearm and watched him worrying his lower lip as he decided what to say. Then his eyes flicked back up and met hers, and something about the way he was looking at her sent a painful jolt of guilt through her whole body.

Yes, there were mountain-sized urges inside her that pushed and fought and _insisted_ on telling Daryl the truth – the whole truth, every last disgusting detail. But Beth had spent _years_ learning how to keep things inside, and she wasn't about to risk the only bits of good that remained in her life by forgetting that hard-earned lesson at the wrong time.

 _It's too soon,_ she assured herself. _He won't understand yet. I can't risk being caught after coming so far._

Daryl hesitantly continued, voice growing softer as he stared back at her expectantly, "It don't matter what happened before no more. It's you an' me now. You can _trust_ me… I gotta know that you know that."

Beth pursed her lips, fighting back tears and nodding, refusing to break their intense eye contact. She felt his hands give her wrists a light squeeze. She managed to choke out past the knot in her throat, "I do – I trust you."

His shoulders barely lifted, as if a weight had been removed from his back. He nodded and raised his eyebrows, still gazing intently into her bloodshot eyes. "So you – if ya felt like ya had ta lie, you don't. About _anything_ …"

She swallowed hard and nodded again. She could see the question in his eyes, unvoiced but clear as day: _What else have you been lying about?_

She blinked and cleared her throat, finding more strength to put into her voice as she replied softly, "I know."

Daryl's concerned expression gradually softened, and the hard lines and creases of worry in his face faded away. His shoulders visibly relaxed, the corners of his mouth tugged upward in a weak half-smile, and he slid his hands down to grasp Beth's. He squeezed her small hand in reassurance.

"Need some water or somethin'? I can make ya somethin' ta eat, if ya want," he rumbled, studying her face as she continued frowning and fighting back tears.

Beth shrugged, then shook her head and looked down, slowly pulling her hands from his light grasp and using her palms on the carpet for balance as she lifted herself from the ground and stood up on wobbly legs. Daryl quickly hopped up and reached out to help her balance, one hand on her arm and the other placed tentatively on her hip. She huffed and straightened up, relieved to find that her head wasn't becoming weightless and that she definitely had not lost the ability to stand or walk like she'd feared.

"Thanks," she mumbled as he pulled his hands away. He grunted in response. She quickly glanced toward the open door and asked, "Where's Mal?"

"Fell asleep on the couch," Daryl replied quietly. "Barely made it halfway through _Mulan_."

Beth chuckled and her chest filled with warmth at the thought of Daryl and Mal watching a movie together on the couch. But her legs were still weak and her hands were trembling sporadically, so she turned and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, measuring out long and steady breaths. Her stomach turned and she thought she might need to eat, but food didn't sound even the least bit appealing at the moment. She could probably use a glass of water, but she could get it herself. She didn't want Daryl waiting on her hand and foot.

"Hey – you sure yer alrigh'?" He asked, and she looked up to see him gazing at her with concern again.

She put on a weak smile and nodded. "Yeah – I jus'… still feel a little weird."

"Yeah, that'll happen," he rumbled, hand moving to his jaw as he scratched at his stubble thoughtfully. "You should really eat somethin', or maybe try ta take a nap."

She frowned and shook her head. "Nothin' sounds good. An' I dunno if my mind'll slow down long enough ta let me sleep right now."

" _Hm_." Daryl paused, then offered, "Might have somethin' that'd make ya feel better. Works fer me, anyway."

Beth furrowed her brow, trying to figure out what he was referring to. "An' what's that?"

He raised his eyebrows and muttered, "Weed – er, _medicinal_ _marijuana_."

She smiled and let out a light laugh, assuming he was joking at first. But then she remembered the familiar smell from that night she'd lay awake in bed and overheard him in the bathroom, and her personal experience at Rosita's party, and all the cigarettes Daryl smoked and the alcohol he drank. Of _course_ he was being serious. Her smile faded into a faint smirk and she rolled her eyes. "Ain't tryin' ta _get high_ after feelin' like _that_ …"

He scoffed and shook his head, chuckling lightly as he explained, "It ain't the kinda weed that gets ya _high_ – it's the kind that makes yer head shut the hell up fer a little bit so you can get yer shit together, or get some sleep."

Beth frowned as she stared back at Daryl and realized he was making a serious offer. At this point, she wasn't sure that it was the best idea to turn him down. Because if she did, she would just end up sitting on the couch with an aching stomach and a head full of intrusive and demeaning thoughts. Or lying in bed with the same thing. Which would most likely lead to a fitful sleep full of nightmares and horrendous flashbacks. Or, if she stayed awake, she might think herself into another random wave of debilitating hopelessness. How much more back-breaking guilt could she endure, how many more self-admonishing fears could she handle before 'panic attacks' became a regular nuisance in her life? How many more times could her heart handle beating uncontrollably and pumping furiously with more blood than her body could produce before it finally gave up and exploded inside her chest? How many more traumas and regrets could she lock away in her brain before it finally hemorrhaged, or all her clenched muscles and pent-up stress caused an aneurysm to burst and end her life before her body even hit the floor?

"Well," she shrugged. "S'pose it _would_ be nice if my head would shut the hell up fer a little bit." She managed a small smirk and Daryl immediately mirrored it.

A few minutes later, after a brief check on Mal to make sure he was still sleeping soundly on the couch while Beth got herself a glass of water, she and Daryl were sitting together in the bathroom, on the fluffy bathmat, backs leaned against the bathtub with the door tightly shut and the ventilation fan turned on. She slowly sipped from her glass of cold water and watched Daryl pinch a hand-rolled joint between his fingers, holding a lighter to the other end until it was burning steadily. Her phone sat on the floor beside her, still dark and silent, still empty of any response from Jesus. Then Daryl was putting the joint to his lips like one of his cigarettes and inhaling deeply, igniting the other end to a bright red as the excess paper burned away.

Her mind was still racing, though the nagging and berating voices had descended into a lull that was gradually becoming quieter and quieter. Her nerves were burnt out, her fingers itched to continuously refresh her email inbox, and her throat was sore, but the cold water was beginning to help. Admittedly, so was Daryl's presence. As he leaned forward and reached up to lightly flick the ashes from the tip of the joint into the sink across from them and then relaxed back and leaned over closer to her in order to offer the joint for her taking, the warmth of his body radiated out to hers and sent a comforting upsurge through all her limbs.

He met her gaze through strands of shaggy, dark hair and offered a soft half-smile. The warmth bloomed larger, fully encompassing. Beth couldn't help but smile back, her eyes flicking away and focusing on the joint that she'd taken between her fingers as a light blush filled her cheeks. It was getting harder and harder to understand why she'd been so terrified, especially when he was making everything feel so _easy_. And okay.

Everything was _fine_ , she just had to look into those oceanic depths hiding beneath heavy eyelids and remind herself every now and again.

After a few generous puffs of the burning marijuana smoke, Beth could barely remember why she'd been so upset in the first place. The remaining anxiety drained from her muscles and though her head wasn't swimming or becoming foggy like her prior experiences with weed, the look in Daryl's bloodshot eyes made her feel high in a way that no intoxicant ever could. They sat in silence for a short time, enjoying the peace and exchanging silent gestures and reassuring smiles, leaning closer against each other every time they passed the joint between their hands. Stealing brief brushes of skin against skin.

A wispy cloud of smoke hung over them in the small bathroom, wafting around in the air of the fan, and the off-white paper of the joint had burned down to half its original length when Daryl's low voice broke through the silence.

"How ya feelin' now?"

Beth's smile widened and she wasn't exactly sure why. She met his gaze and replied, "A _lot_ better."

His small smirk grew into a smile and he took a long hit off the joint, exhaling it slowly and watching the smoke float up above his head.

She watched him for a moment, then added softly, "Thank you." His eyes flicked over to meet hers in surprise and she added, "Fer everything."

He briefly furrowed his brow and shrugged, offering over the joint for her turn to hit it. He mumbled casually, "Don't mention it."

She took the joint and placed it between her lips, inhaling another lungful of thick, sweet smoke. And when she pulled it away, slowly exhaled, and handed it back over, he asked nonchalantly, "So what part a Georgia you from?"

 _No point in lying now,_ she thought. _That sounds like too much work anyway._

"Around Atlanta," Beth replied. "Kinda south of the city."

Daryl grunted in response as thick smoke escaped his mouth and he offered over the diminishing joint. "Oh, out in the boonies. A farm, huh?"

She nodded and took her hit, focused on pinching the small paper wrapping between her fingers as it continued to burn away.

"My pa had a li'l shack out around there – pretty deep in the holler, though. Pro'lly nothin' like the place _you_ grew up," he concluded, voice low and drawling with distant recollections. "Wasn't nice or nothin'."

He wasn't saying it, but she could hear it in his voice: his silent awe at the fact that they were both from the same part of the same state and had stumbled upon each other in such a large city, so far away from home. His quiet curiosity, the dozens of unvoiced questions about how she'd grown up, where she'd originated from, and just _how_ vastly different their upbringings could possibly be. He was reaching out for more common threads, a deeper and more palpable connection. But she had to resist giving him any obvious clues that might lead him to the very _dark_ truth about her real identity.

She handed over the rapidly diminishing joint and stilled as he carefully plucked it from her fingers. While he took the last good hit that was to be had from the small roach of a joint that remained, Beth smirked and gazed at him with complacency and lazy eyelids.

"Where'd you get _medicinal_ marijuana, anyway?" She asked light-heartedly. She wasn't _intentionally_ changing the subject – but at the same time, she kind of was.

He chuckled lightly from his throat as he exhaled a faint cloud of smoke. Then he leaned forward and reached up to extinguish the last burning bits of the joint into the sink, and he leaned back again to relax as he explained, "Denise helped me get a prescription. I only really use it a few times a year. When shit gets… _overwhelming_. Or when my head starts workin' against me. Helps level me out. More fer Mal's sake than anything."

Beth's smile faded and she nodded, slightly leaning into him as they settled into place without the presence of the burning marijuana being passed between them. "What d'you mean?"

Daryl shrugged and mumbled, "Jus' – shit gets ta be too much sometimes. That _dying_ feelin' you had a li'l bit ago – I've had it, too. More'an a few times. It sucked. Scared the hell outta me. I can't be breakin' down like that when I got a kid relyin' on me. Sometimes I need a little help keepin' my mind quiet so I don't… _freak out_ or somethin'."

Her eyes glazed over momentarily and she gazed off in thoughtfulness, humming a quiet understanding, " _Hmm_."

Once again, she was forcing herself not to think about the only other time she'd felt a terror that was anything comparable to her first official panic attack. Instead, she thought of what she'd seen since she'd been living in Daryl's home, what she'd observed during his small bouts of vulnerability and transparency. And she couldn't help but think of the deep grief he'd been hiding this whole time, discovering the tiniest bit of satisfaction in the realization that he, too, struggled with emotions that were too complex to understand. Not because it brought her any sort of joy to know he suffered in any way, but because it was _comforting_ to know that he'd been fighting a silent battle similar to the war that had constantly been waging in her head since the moment she met him. It was relieving to see that someone who seemed so much older and more experienced than her could still feel those bouts of weakness and helplessness – so maybe it wasn't just a flaw in her own personality. Maybe she wasn't just _weak_. Because Daryl certainly wasn't weak, and he still felt like he was sometimes. He still felt those inner conflicts, and he heard those same nagging voices that haunted Beth's every step. He still had a mind that wanted to work against him at every turn. Yet he fought through it, defied it every chance he got, and kept moving forward. For more than just his own sake.

Once again, they were connecting on an unseen, unspoken level. Sharing something that was far deeper than words or kisses or sweat-soaked skin.

The sweet smoke was still lingering above their heads, gradually dissipating as it swirled in the moving air amongst the hum of the ventilation fan, and it brought a brief memory to the surface of her mind: the first Friday night she'd spent in her new home with Daryl and Malachi. Lying in bed and overhearing Daryl in the bathroom, hearing the steady hum of the vent, smelling the familiar, skunky scent of weed drifting through the walls. Curiously wondering what _exactly_ he was doing in that bathtub before discovering that he was struggling with a personal milestone of grief. Sharing a drink and a palpable silence on the couch, which evolved into an unspoken understanding within a matter of minutes.

She spoke with dry lips before the hesitation could stop her, "Like that night – the anniversary of her death. You mean times like that…?"

His mouth was a thin line and he nodded, blinking lazily.

It was completely inappropriate and Beth couldn't understand why her mouth suddenly upturned into an irresistible smile, but then there was a stifled giggle in her throat and she felt herself blushing as she looked away and confessed, "I heard you from my bed that night… whatever you were doin' in the bath."

She felt his eyes on her as he huffed out in soft amusement and asked, "Eavesdroppin' on me?"

The quiet giggle finally escaped her lips and Beth shook her head, turning to meet Daryl's mischievous gaze as the smile widened across her face. " _No_ – this apartment's got some pretty thin walls. I smelled the weed, I wasn't _tryin'_ ta listen to… _you_. Or what you were doin'."

Daryl chuckled softly in amusement and she watched his hair fall over his eyes, obscuring them from view. He looked down at his hands, smirking and lightly chuckling. "Yeah, well – sorry 'bout that. Guess ya had the misfortune of hearin' my _stress relief_. Ain't used ta havin' roommates."

The blush deepened in Beth's cheeks and she stifled another giggle, shrugging and keeping her eyes steady on him as he avoided meeting her gaze. "'S alright. Not like I _heard_ anything – jus' kinda… imagined it, maybe."

He grunted and teased sarcastically, "So you was _fantasizin'_ about me."

She shook her head and looked up toward the ceiling, leaning her back flat against the side of the bathtub and grinning at his joke, her cheeks burning red. "Yer ridiculous," she muttered.

And then Daryl was letting out a laugh. And she wasn't exactly sure why, because just a few minutes ago she hadn't felt like she would ever laugh again, but she was joining him. And their combined, genuine laughter filled the bathroom, growing thicker than the clouds of swirling smoke.

The sound had just barely died down and Beth was catching her breath, still grinning and gazing over at Daryl with amusement and admiration, when she felt the familiar vibration beside her leg. Her face immediately fell and she reached over to pick up her phone, unlocking the screen and quickly checking her notifications to find a new email.

She tapped on the screen and opened it. Her heart skipped when she realized it was, in fact, a response from Jesus. As always, brief and discreet but easy to decipher:

 _2nd ring – refuge  
4th ring – danger  
11:27._

She checked the time: 11:14. Then she let out a deep breath and willed herself to relax again. Her heart slowed and she set her phone aside, glancing over to see Daryl leaning the back of his head against the edge of the bathtub with his eyes closed. But as soon as he felt her gaze on him, his eyelids fluttered open and he barely turned his head to meet it.

Beth knew that joint she'd shared with Daryl was mostly to thank for her ability to continue remaining calm at this moment, especially during the next ten minutes, when it would become absolutely _crucial_ for her to answer the impending phone call. But she also knew that being able to turn and find him sitting beside her with the same reassuring look on his face was helping quite a bit, too. Something about his face, his voice, his presence… it had all become comforting and a place of solace.

She felt the corners of her mouth tugging upward in a weak smile, stomach fluttering as the bathroom light reflected off the deep blue of his eyes.

She didn't dare admit it to herself, but Daryl was starting to feel like four sturdy walls and a roof built atop a strong foundation; he was starting to feel like _home_.

His hoarse voice cracked the silence, "How long we been in here?"

She shrugged, glancing back toward her darkened phone screen.

"I better check on Mal," he said, grunting as he pushed himself up and slowly stood to his feet.

Beth nodded in agreement, looking up to find Daryl turning around and reaching his hand out to help her up. She took it and he helped lift her to her feet with one arm, like she weighed nothing. Then she reached down and scooped up her phone and half-full glass of water before following him out of the bathroom.

He paused in the hall outside her bedroom door and turned around to ask, "You wanna come sit on the couch with me while it's still peaceful?"

She immediately nodded and smiled, but then she felt the weight of the phone in her hand. "Yeah – in a minute. I gotta make a phone call."

A flicker of confusion crossed his expression and she felt a lightning bolt of guilt shoot through her body.

 _I don't_ _ **have**_ _to lie about_ _ **everything**_ _,_ Beth thought, almost bitter at herself and her entire situation as she stared into Daryl's questioning gaze. _I can tell him_ _ **some**_ _things – it'll make the whole truth easier once it's time. I can tell him enough. Just not too much._

She could tell that he didn't want to seem overbearing, and he began to agree, "Alrigh', well – "

"It's that family friend I told you about. The one that's helpin' me out," she burst out, her voice erupting softer than she'd intended but clear nonetheless.

Daryl reeled back just slightly and furrowed his brow in brief confusion, then his expression relaxed and he smirked. He nodded and a deep relief flowed through Beth's stomach – like they were both realizing, at the same moment, that she was beginning to let her guard down. That she was beginning to allow herself to trust him with the truth.

Although he had no idea just how much that actually meant to her. Or how dangerous it could really be.

"Okay," he said quietly, eyes set intently on hers, searching for something. But he seemed satisfied with what he found. "Whatever you gotta do. Jus' don't keep us waitin' too long."

Beth managed a smile in return, then he was turning around and heading into the living room and she was forcing her legs to carry her back into her bedroom. She closed the door and tried to avoid looking at the cross above the dresser. A light chill ran through her arms and she was momentarily worried that she might have another attack like before.

But her surroundings gradually softened and she eased herself down to sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand as she stared at the screen and watched the time. She thought about Daryl and the lightness in her body that still resided. She thought about sitting with him on the couch, about the way he'd said "us" like she was an integral part of their exclusive, tiny family. She thought about the way he'd looked in the dim morning glow of the woods, and how his piercing stare seemed to warm her skin even quicker than the rising sunlight had. She thought about that spot on the couch that was waiting for her, soft and inviting beside Daryl and Mal.

She didn't think about what she might say to Jesus once he called.

And then it was 11:27 and the phone grasped tightly in her hands was beginning to vibrate, right on schedule. The screen lit up: _Unkown Calling_.

One long, deep vibration through her palms. Her heart skipped and hesitated. That was one ring. Another long, deep vibration. The breath hitched in her throat and her pulse barely thumped. That was the second ring. She waited until the vibration had paused before tapping the Answer button and placing the phone to her ear with a trembling hand.

Before she could say anything, a deep voice on the other end asked, "Password?"

Beth quickly swallowed and licked her lips, speaking into the phone, "Mary Magdalene Refuge."

There was a beat. Then the voice responded, "You're in danger. Wait for three messages. We'll see you soon."

She barely had a chance to process the words when she realized there was nothing more than dead silence in her ear. He had hung up. She wasn't even sure it was Jesus. But she understood the directions and her heart thumped in anticipation of whatever guidance the "three messages" would offer.

And what kind of "danger" was she in, exactly? What else could he possibly be referring to besides the news of Detective Grimes waking up, like the emails had suggested? And what was _she_ supposed to do about Rick Grimes clear back in _Atlanta_? How could him being awake possibly put her in immediate danger?

Maybe Jesus was just being extra cautious. Or maybe there was something going on that she had yet to be informed about.

She swallowed hard. _Shit,_ _he probably wants to meet up again,_ she thought, gripping the silent phone in her still-trembling hand.

How would she tell Daryl about this? How was she supposed to sneak away in the middle of the night like before without being noticed? What if Jesus had something to tell her that would change things? Or what if he wanted to try and _force_ her to relocate? What if he knew something that she didn't and was trying to _warn_ her?

How could she possibly explain any of it to Daryl when she didn't even have all the answers herself?

Beth forced herself to stop and take a deep breath, willing her mind to slow down and her pulse to regulate. She couldn't let herself slip this far again, she couldn't _panic_. Absolutely _nothing_ was going to relieve her until she was able to talk to Jesus. She just had to be patient – she had to wait for the messages and figure out where he wanted to meet this time. And then take it from there. One step at a time. She just had to continue laying low through every step.

And, _shit_ – she almost forgot… she'd also have to avoid news channels at all costs while she continued laying low in the apartment with the boys. Because, of course, it was only a matter of time until her story began leaking from Fox News to the rest of the networks.

Her head was growing light and she took another long, deep breath. She squeezed her eyes shut and fought back sobs of fear. A flash of moonlight through a slatted door appeared behind her eyelids. She clenched the phone in her hand so tightly, she thought she might break it.

" _It's all part of God's plan, Bethy_ ," her daddy's voice ghosted through every one of her senses. _"You just have to trust Him. He knows the way."_

And then Beth silently asked the question that had never occurred to her before: _But what if God's just makin' it up as He goes?_

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the long wait on this chapter. The holiday season has been especially brutal to me and I've had very little time or energy to write. However, I have a short chapter that will also be posted this coming Sunday, only about 5k words and all flashback. So please let me know if you liked this chapter and maybe what you thought of it and thanks for your continued patience!  
As always, there's a companion photo to this chapter on tumblr and pinterest. If you're curious for hints about what's to come in the story, check out the "Most Wanted inspo" board ;)


	63. i can hear violin strings, but inside my

**Warning:** graphic depictions of violence in this chapter.

* * *

 _ **i can hear violin strings, but inside my casket it's silent**_

"when they _mask_ up, they comin' for your ice,  
when they bare face, they comin' for your _life_ "

 _April 12th, 2017 was just like any other Wednesday night for the Greene Family. Otis, Patricia, and Arnold joined Hershel, Annette, Maggie, Glenn, Shawn, and Beth for dinner, as they usually did after Wednesday evening church services. And then they all helped clean up before sitting together on the porch for a couple of hours, talking and laughing, sipping sweet tea and lemonade, enjoying the hints of spring that were floating on the chilly breeze._

 _It was actually a pretty good night, when Beth thought about it. She hadn't argued with Shawn or Maggie more than a couple of times that whole evening, her momma had cooked spaghetti and garlic bread for dinner (one of Beth's favorites), and no one had disappeared into Hershel's study for a "talk" or a "work discussion" even once. In fact, the study remained empty and locked all night, as everyone was crowded together in the kitchen or the dining room or on the back porch. It felt like a nice, happy, normal evening for Beth and her family. Which had been growing fewer and farther between over the last six months. The sudden lack of tension in the farmhouse felt like a brief reprieve, and she was almost certain that she wasn't the only one who felt that way._

 _And then they'd all gone to bed. Patricia, Otis, and Arnold all left and went back to their own homes, and not long after, Beth and her parents and her siblings were all retreating into their separate bedrooms and shutting the doors. The farmhouse went dark and quiet. Beth lay in bed for a while, texting Jimmy and reading a book that she'd been assigned for her Literature class. The clock had read 11:14 as she shut off her bedside lamp and rolled over to go to sleep._

 _When she opened her eyes again and glanced around, she found that it was 1:49. Her bedroom and the rest of the farmhouse were still dark and quiet. Everyone else was sleeping soundly, resting and preparing for their usual four a.m. wake-up calls. Beth wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but her body had other plans. With a persistently dry throat, there was no way she could fall back to sleep without a drink of water first._

 _So she threw off the covers and got out of bed, quietly navigating her bedroom in the dark to reach the door. She opened it to find the second floor of her home just as dimly lit and silent as her bedroom, all the other doors shut tightly with no hints of light peeking out. The window at the end of the hall, directly across from the staircase, was open a few inches with the curtains parted to let in the glow of moonlight and the spring night air._

 _Beth stumbled to the top of the stairs in a half-sleep daze and gripped the railing for support. She quietly descended the stairs without turning on any lights, navigating her way through the familiar house by feel and faint sight, finding her way to the kitchen with barely more than muscle memory. Her eyelids were still drooping lazily as she chugged down a full glass of cold water._

 _After leaving her glass by the sink, she found her way back to the stairs and began slowly climbing them. Now that her need for a drink was gone, her bladder was making demands of its own. As she reached the top of the stairs, she had her eyes set on the dark doorway of the bathroom – her last stop before she could finally return to bed and get back to sleep. Her feet planted softly on the carpeted floor of the second story and she stepped to her right, toward the door._

 _Then a sound caught her attention, making her freeze in place and turn her head to inspect. Her heart skipped lightly in surprise, spooked by the darkness of the farmhouse. She squinted through the shadows and glanced around the second-floor landing, eyeballing all the closed doors before her gaze fell on the open window._

 _The sound repeated and her heart skipped again. She took a hesitant step toward the window, curious to see if there was a bird outside or a small animal that had somehow skittered its way up the old trellis on the side of the house – it wouldn't be the first time. The aged floor creaked beneath her bare foot and she stopped abruptly._

 _Another sound from just outside the window. She stared intently toward it, squinting, all the haze of sleep completely gone and replaced with alertness and a hint of fear. She thought she saw a shadow moving behind the glass, near the pane of the window, but she couldn't be sure that she wasn't just seeing things. Her bladder was still full, but nearly forgotten, urging her to take the last few steps into the bathroom for relief._

" _Beth?"_

 _The voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. She spun around to find Shawn standing a few feet away, just outside his open bedroom door, and she immediately relaxed. She gave him a quizzical look._

" _Jus' got up ta get a drink an' pee – thought I heard somethin'," Beth whispered, jerking her head toward the window behind her._

 _Shawn took a few steps forward and approached her, moonlight washing over his bedhead and sleepy eyes. He opened his mouth like he was about to ask what she meant, his gaze following where she'd gestured to inspect the window._

 _Then his eyes suddenly widened and his lip pursed tightly. Beth's heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach. At the same time, she heard the noise again and turned around to see what Shawn was seeing: an arm reaching in through the open window, swiftly shoving the pane up until it was open all the way._

 _Someone was trying to break into the second story of the Greene Family home._

 _Beth froze again, petrified with fear, mouth agape but no voice to be found. Before she could react or even think straight, Shawn was grabbing her firmly by the arm and taking a long stride to the closet door that sat between the bathroom door and the door to Hershel's study, less than fifteen feet away from the window. It was just a linen closet – a flimsy, slatted door covering a space that was barely large enough to step inside, lined with shelves of bedsheets and blankets, filled with the smell of mothballs and fabric softener._

 _But Beth fit in the small space between the shelves and the closed door perfectly, and before she could object or even understand what was happening, Shawn was hissing instructions in her ear as he shoved her inside the closet._

" _Stay in here," he ordered, whispering in a firm tone that Beth had never heard him use before. Then his grip on her arm loosened as he finished, "Don't move, don't make a_ _ **sound**_ _– no matter_ _ **what**_ _you see."_

 _She hadn't noticed at the time, but he didn't tell her not to_ _ **look**_ _. Maybe because he already knew her too well. Maybe because he knew it was already a lost cause. She'd never know his exact reasoning, but she didn't really need to either._

 _All she could do to respond was deftly nod as the slatted closet door was shut firmly in her face, leaving her enveloped in darkness and silence, the sharp edge of a shelf pressing into her lower back. Her mouth was still agape, breath hitched in her throat, eyes wide and unblinking as she stared through the slats and watched the shadowed, moonlit scene unfold._

 _In the time it had taken Shawn to desperately shove Beth inside the closet for safety, the man that had been working his way inside the window successfully climbed all the way in, then quickly turned to help his assistant in after him. They'd climbed the old trellis and entered the house almost silently, save for the slight bumps and thuds they'd made while struggling through the window. In the dim moonlight, Beth could only see the shadowy figures of two full-grown men – one was a bit shorter with a wiry frame, while the other was tall and solid. The former had his back turned, struggling to help the larger man through the window when Shawn approached from behind. Neither of them had noticed Shawn in the shadows of the dimly lit second floor._

 _Simon and Randall were their names, she would later learn. But she'd never really_ _ **wanted**_ _names to put to faces – all she wanted was to forget them completely._

 _Randall entered first, being smaller and more agile, and then Simon struggled to lumber in after him. Without a word, Shawn leapt at Randall. He wrapped his arms around the skinny man's shoulders and yanked him backward, both of them letting out grunts. Randall let out a yelp of surprise and quickly abandoned helping Simon through the window to turn and fight back against Shawn._

 _Beth's eyes grew wider, if that were possible, as she watched the second man finally slip inside the window, cursing under his breath and struggling to move faster as Shawn and Randall grappled. Her heart pounded against her chest as she watched Simon turn his face into the glow of moonlight and accentuate his twisted, heinous features. He was twice Randall's age, speckled with wrinkles and scars; dark, messy hair, sharp cheekbones, a jutting chin, a thick handlebar mustache, and a prominent forehead._

 _She could see it in his squinty, weasel-like eyes – he was a_ _ **bad**_ _man. And he wasn't wearing any sort of mask, or attempting to disguise himself. He wasn't even wearing_ _ **gloves**_ _. Neither was his partner._

 _Shawn had told her something a while back that she'd thought was useless information – just another in a long line of overprotective, big-brotherly rants. But now, it was popping into her head and filling her with a deep sense of dread:_

" _If they ain't wearin' masks, Bethy, they ain't worried about witnesses."_

 _As she watched, petrified with terror, Shawn managed to overpower Randall and get him to the ground with a loud 'thud.' But then Simon quickly gathered his bearings and stepped in, muttering just loudly enough that Beth could make out what he said from inside the closet: "Well, ain't this nice – yer exactly who we was lookin' for, boy."_

 _Then he was pulling something from his belt and holding it up. She recognized the shape: a knife. Large enough to be a hunting knife, just like the kinds she'd watched her daddy use to skin animals and clean fish, though she couldn't tell exactly what kind. The blade was razor-sharp. The shiny silver glinted in the moonlight and a shudder ran through Beth's frozen muscles._

 _And she quickly realized that these intruders didn't_ _ **care**_ _about witnesses because there wouldn't_ _ **be**_ _any witnesses._

 _One second, there was heavy grunting and panting coming from Shawn and Randall as they rolled around on the floor in front of the open window, and it looked like Shawn might've actually had the upper-hand. Beth could faintly hear him cursing and asking the intruders why the hell they were there, but he never once called out for help or yelled for the rest of the Greene Family._

 _And in the same way that Beth understood exactly_ _ **why**_ _her brother didn't call out for help, she would also_ _ **never**_ _understand why it had to be_ _ **him**_ _._

 _The next second, he was losing. He'd been overpowered by Randall and flipped onto the ground, struggling to free himself. And Simon quickly swooped in, leaning down and placing a large hand firmly on Shawn's chest while Randall sat atop Shawn's legs with all his weight and forcibly held his arms down._

 _And then it happened in a blur of movement. Beth knew because she didn't blink the entire time. She_ _ **couldn't**_ _._

 _The blade held firmly in Simon's large hand sliced across Shawn's throat in one swift motion and the thick, crimson blood immediately began spurting and gushing out. Shawn's agitated grunts and groans turned into deathly gasps and gurgles._

 _A small gasp escaped Beth's throat, betraying her. Her hand immediately slapped over her mouth, and she lifted the other to cover her nose. But her eyes wouldn't shut. They were burning, filled with tears and staring endlessly through the slats of the closet door at the scene before her. Her entire body was trembling, shaking so hard that she was afraid they might hear her rattling around inside the closet. The second floor of the farmhouse had suddenly gone deathly silent, and the only sound Beth could hear was her own desperate gasps into her palms… and the final, dying gurgles coming from Shawn._

 _She watched as her older brother's muscles stilled and his body went limp, and the blood quickly began pooling outward from his lifeless body. Simon and Randall stepped back and away before their shoes could get covered, and for a split-second, Randall glanced directly toward the closet door that Beth was behind._

 _In that brief moment, Beth thought to herself, 'I'm next. I'm gonna die here, in this closet, in this house. With Shawn.'_

 _She bit back another gasp and watched as Simon quickly got his partner's attention again and gestured to Shawn's body, blood still pooling out, soaking the carpet deep red around him. Randall turned back to listen to Simon, but the silent grip on Beth's lungs was still there._

" _Now let's send a message – quick, 'fore the whole damn house wakes up," Simon hissed._

 _Something that resembled glee crossed Randall's face, and he quickly stepped back and aside, mumbling about something that sounded like nonsense to Beth. Then Simon stepped forward and leaned down, his knife still dripping with warm blood, and roughly grabbed the side of Shawn's head. Beth bit down on her lip to suppress the loud sob that wanted to escape. She bit down harder when she saw Simon placing the tip of his blade against the corner of Shawn's mouth, and then she could taste copper on her tongue as she watched the blade slicing through the tender skin of Shawn's cheek – slowly and meticulously, from the corner of his mouth clear up to his ear, splitting his cheek wide open to reveal grisly fat and muscle._

 _It suddenly clicked in her head what Randall had been mumbling about – a "Chelsea Smile." She fought the strong urge to vomit, the bile leaving a bitter taste in the back of her mouth. It was the kind of shit she'd only ever read about in books or seen in movies. The kind of shit she'd only ever_ _ **wanted**_ _to read about in books or see in movies._

 _She was finally able to slam her eyes shut when she realized Simon was doing the same thing to Shawn's other cheek. There was an intense burning in her throat and the bile was building quicker and quicker, her stomach turning and threatening to evacuate its entire contents. In the quiet of the farmhouse, she could still clearly hear the unmistakable sound of a blade slicing through thick flesh and muscle. She fought back more sobs, struggling desperately to keep herself quiet._

 _Her legs became warm and wet and though she couldn't look down, she suddenly realized that her bladder had relieved itself while she stood trembling in terror. She felt it dribbling down her legs beneath her pajama pants and pooling at her feet, drenching the carpet beneath her._

" _The hell is all that thumpin' an' thuddin' out here – Shawn?_ _ **Shawn**_ _! Oh my –_ _ **NO**_ _!_ _ **SHAWN-**_ _!"_

 _Beth's eyes popped open again at the sound of her momma's voice._

 _All she could think was, 'No, no no no no – stay back! Please God,_ _ **no**_ _.'_

 _There was a blood-curdling scream and the familiar sound of slippered feet running down the hallway, and then Annette appeared from down the hall. A fresh wave of tears pooled in Beth's eyes and she struggled to hold back the sobs that wanted to burst free, the shudders that were painfully wracking her body. Every single one of her muscles was still frozen in terror, practically numb and non-existent as the fear consumed her and clouded her mind. Her breaths were coming in shorter gasps, lungs tightening dangerously behind her ribcage, throat threatening to close and strangle the last bits of oxygen from her body. The back of her skull was suddenly cold as ice._

 _Simon had barely pulled the blade of his knife from where it was embedded in Shawn's cheek when Annette appeared a few feet away, stopping abruptly where she stood and letting out another scream._

" _ **Christ**_ _– shut 'er up! We gotta go!" Simon demanded, speaking loudly for the first time. His voice was icy and emotionless and it sent aching chills up Beth's spine._

 _Without hesitation, Randall stepped over and grabbed Annette by the arms before she had a chance to turn and attempt to run – her eyes were glued to Shawn's lifeless body, the shock taking over as she continued to scream. Randall threw her to the ground at Simon's feet, inches away from the pool of blood that surrounded Shawn._

" _Cut 'er throat an' let's_ _ **git**_ _!" Randall demanded, dashing toward the open window._

 _Then everything seemed to happen at once: the sound of doors opening and Maggie screaming while Beth watched Simon take his blood-drenched blade to Annette's throat. Another swift slice, just like the one that had opened up Shawn's neck, and Beth's momma was reduced to a heap on the floor, blood draining from the wide wound in her throat as her limbs flailed and her muscles went slack. Before she was even taking her last, gurgling breaths, Simon and Randall were climbing back out through the window and disappearing into the night._

 _Something like loud, maniacal laughter echoed out from beneath the open window, and Beth was almost certain she was the only one who'd heard it. She still couldn't figure out if she'd imagined it or not._

 _At the same moment, Maggie stepped out into the hall from her bedroom. She was still screaming – loud, blood-curdling cries of anguish, nearly identical to the screams from their momma just seconds before. And a lightswitch was flipped on, flooding the second floor of the farmhouse with blinding light. Revealing the grotesque scene on the blood-drenched floor between the stairs and the open window._

 _Beth was still petrified, back pressed against the sharp edge of a shelf, hands pressed tightly over her nose and mouth. She was still struggling to breathe, cheeks wet, nose covered in snot and eyes filled with tears. Every muscle in her body was trembling, the urine down her legs already forgotten. She watched as her daddy appeared, frantic, struggling to move down the hall as fast as he could, holding a shotgun in his hands and rushing to the open window._

 _But old age and aching joints had slowed him and he was mere seconds too late. It didn't matter anyway – the shotgun was dropped from his hands and abandoned as soon as he laid eyes on the bloody, mutilated bodies of his wife and son._

 _Maggie and Glenn had rushed from their bedroom, which was at the same end of the hall as Hershel and Annette's bedroom, and they seemed to be the only ones who were capable of thinking logically. Maggie was still screaming, but she'd screamed at Glenn and demanded he call 911, and then she'd screamed in anger as she leant down and clutched the lifeless body of her younger brother._

 _She switched frantically between Shawn's limp body and Annette's body – which was still twitching with slight after-shocks. Hershel dropped to his knees and let out a long, anguished wail, tears pouring from his eyes, hands visibly trembling as he reached out to hopelessly grasp his wife's arm. Maggie yanked off her pajama top and attempted to wrap it around Annette's open neck, but it was pointless. She was beyond saving._

 _Beth still couldn't move._

" _Beth – where's Beth? Jesus_ _ **Christ**_ _, where's_ _ **Beth**_ _?!" Maggie screamed, hands soaked in blood._

 _Her big sister's terrified cries sent a fresh wave of shivers and shudders through Beth's body and she finally allowed herself to whimper quietly. Even though she wanted to scream until her throat was raw._

 _On that normal Wednesday night in April, the entire Greene Family's lives had been turned upside-down within a matter of five minutes. The 911 call from Glenn's phone was placed at 1:54 a.m. But the police didn't arrive until 2:03 a.m., and the ambulance didn't make it out to the Greene Farm until 2:17._

 _By that time, Annette's body had finally stilled. The urine on Beth's legs and feet had dried. Maggie's screams had quieted and Hershel's wails had become muffled sobs._

 _And Shawn's eyes were still wide open, staring hopelessly upwards with a grisly, bloody smile left permanently etched onto his face._

 _The large crimson stain left on the carpet proved to be just as difficult to scrub out as the memory in Beth's brain._

* * *

"so destined i am to walk among the _dark_ ,  
a _child_ in keeping _secrets_ from  
(will they _know_ what i've done in the after?)  
in the sought for matter when the words _blame_ you,  
in a _blood red summer_ i'll give you  
(i don't _want_ it)"

 _The Greene Family held a joint funeral service for Annette and Shawn on April 22nd, a week-and-a-half after their violent murders. Closed casket, of course – because more than enough people had already seen the horrific state of the bodies. And the police had enough gruesome photos to fill an entire album._

 _Beth could barely remember anything from that week, let alone the day of the funeral. There were odd, random tidbits that stuck out in her mind: sporadic flashes of bright color and the tear-blurred figures of other people. She'd still been in shock. Maggie had uttered the word "catatonic" more than once, though Beth hadn't understood how it applied to her._

 _There was the gray haze of cloudy morning sunlight pouring into the entryway of the farmhouse as she ventured outside for the first time in days. There was vivid yellow Caution tape, gradually becoming faded and torn in the sun, blowing in the wind at the side of the house. There was a bright white outline on the siding of the house where the trellis had been, its shape an intricate maze leading a direct path from the ground up to the second story window. There was bright green grass and brand new leaves on trees, the vibrant orange-pink of the blooming dahlias in Momma's garden and the blinding light of the sun as it glared down from above. There was the faded blue and red of police car lights, their shiny black paintjobs gathering dust as they drove away from the farm. There was the dark red of the stain that permeated the carpet on the second-floor landing. Then there was the familiar and comforting eggshell white of the pages in Beth's journal, the only place where she was able to make sense of anything going through her head. But there was also the deep, dark black – in the clothes the Greene Family wore, in the wide pupils of their watery eyes, in the ominous grief for the future that hovered over their home and threatened to collapse down upon them. The same thick blackness as the soil in the cemetery, the earth that encompassed the caskets holding the corpses of Beth's mother and brother._

 _The weather was gloomy and they held the entire service at the cemetery, around the Greene Family plots. But it didn't rain, and the breeze was unseasonably warm. Beth's body had moved on autopilot, going through the motions of her everyday life as she performed one routine after the other, sticking close to Maggie and Glenn as often as possible, trying to avoid Daddy's sorrowful blue eyes and Jimmy's pitiful tone of voice. She kept her head down more often than not, identifying nothing more than the clothing of each person she came into contact with._

 _Amongst her automatic reactions, she'd programmed a reflex to stay far away from anyone in crisp, dry-cleaned suits or heavy black boots. The only words she was able to process from Maggie's innumerable hisses in her ears were "fucking cops" and "Lerner" and "disrespectful." There was always an arm guiding her somewhere, keeping her a safe distance away from the disguised enemies lingering amongst them. Whether it was Maggie's or Glenn's or Jimmy's or Arnold's or Patricia's, Beth never noticed or cared. Everything felt like a foggy dream. Or, more accurately, a nightmare._

 _She still wasn't sure how, but she'd managed to compose herself enough to sing for an audience. Wearing her long, black dress, blonde hair falling down around her face and flowing over her pale, sun-starved shoulders, Beth somehow found the strength and motivation to stand before her grieving family and congregation, along with Maggie, and sing "Come Back, Paddy O'Reilly" in a soft, sorrowful tune as homage to her deceased mother and brother. Even though she had the inkling of a feeling that if there weren't so many uninvited guests in attendance, her daddy wouldn't have wanted to put on such a gracefully depressing show._

 _They were the good, God-fearing Greene Family, nothing more than victims of circumstance. Wasn't that clear to everyone by now?_

 _Her lips had moved on their own accord, lyrics spilling from her mouth in recitation without much thought. She'd sang the song so many times – in church, at home, with Maggie or Momma or Daddy. She could've sang it in her sleep. She didn't even bother to acknowledge the numerous times that Maggie's voice cracked throughout their performance._

 _There was a brief moment when she was afraid that people would think it was odd that she wasn't crying. But then she didn't care because it felt like she was constantly sobbing, quietly. Inside her head, the wailing screams of her mother played on repeat, and she couldn't silence the final gurgling breaths of her brother. The tears no longer came – in fact, she was almost convinced that she'd literally cried herself dry. But there was still a deep, aching pit in her stomach that was constantly opening up and swallowing her every emotion, engulfing every inch of happiness or hope that was left. She wanted to cry and scream and throw an absolute fucking fit. But her body simply wouldn't allow it. Breathing had become just as much a chore as falling asleep nowadays, the invisible noose tightening around her neck and slowly strangling her of any will to live._

 _After a while, it all felt like nothing at all. As if it had all hit so hard and simultaneously that it had left her reeling, unable to process or understand any of it. At times, she didn't feel sad in the least bit. In fact, she felt absolutely_ _ **nothing**_ _. There were no words to describe it, no matter how many hours she spent hovered over her journal with a pen in her hand. There was no way to overcome it. She found herself not caring at all. Not caring about anything. And then she would realize how utterly heartless and selfish she was being and she would tell herself that this was the part where she was supposed to feel_ _ **bad**_ _. This was the part where she was supposed to feel like an awful human being, and she was supposed to suddenly find all that grief and heartache and desperate need that had been meant to be there._

 _But she didn't. She just felt… numb._

 _There were cars at the service – so many of them. Cars and trucks and compacts and vans and even a couple of motorcycles. But the detail that stuck out to Beth was the odd_ _ **pattern**_ _of vehicles. There was a pristine, black Dodge Charger or Chevy Caprice – easily distinguishable, unmarked police vehicles – inconspicuously parked between every six or seven civilian vehicles. And a little farther down the road from where the service was being held, there was a small crowd of shiny black BMWs and Range Rovers parked – not police cars, Beth knew, but still ominous all the same. All the windows were too darkly tinted to see inside, and she wasn't sure if the drivers of all those vehicles were actually in attendance for the funeral. But she had a bad feeling that they were nothing more than spectators. And more than once, she could see Maggie from the corner of her eye: glaring at the vehicles, muttering under her breath with a deep scowl on her face, or whispering with Glenn or Otis or Daddy._

 _All the fear had left Beth days ago, though. She was pretty sure that she was actually incapable of feeling such a thing anymore. She knew what the suspicious vehicles were,_ _ **who**_ _they really were – for the most part. But at this point, she wasn't even sure she'd care if an entire swarm of police cars pulled up and surrounded the funeral. All she really wanted was to wake up from this ongoing nightmare._

 _It seemed that her daddy didn't care either, from what she'd bothered to observe and overhear. Most of the conversations and well wishes from faceless funeral-goers drifted in one ear and directly out the other, barely registering in her brain. But at one point, when she was standing off to the side in a small moment of solitude that she'd barely stolen for herself, she heard the familiar voices of Otis and her daddy._

 _Hershel's tone had been menacing, almost vengeful. "_ _ **God**_ _forgives, Otis… I_ _ **don't**_ _."_

 _He didn't sound like the daddy she knew. At least not the one she'd been allowed to know. And though she hadn't been able to make out much else of what they'd said, or what they might've been talking about, she didn't really_ _ **care**_ _to know. She was sick of being reminded of the state of things, of the horrific actions that had driven Hershel to this point. She was sick of thinking about Shawn's and Annette's desecrated corpses lying on the upstairs floor. Most of all, she was sick of seeing those heinous men's faces in the backs of her eyelids when she tried to sleep at night. She wanted them to pay, too. She wanted to see them die just as gruesomely as they'd slaughtered her mother and brother._

 _But wasn't that what the police were supposed to be doing? Why did she have the gut feeling that her daddy wanted_ _ **more**_ _than judicial justice?_

 _All she really knew for sure was that her family was splitting apart, right down the middle, before her very eyes. Momma and Shawn were being put six feet underground. Maggie and Daddy were at each other's throats over something no one could fix. The veil of happiness and stability that had shrouded their family in security for most of Beth's life was bursting into flames and smoldering to ashes around them. And all she could do was keep her head down. It was all she'd been_ _ **told**_ _to do._

 _Beth stood between Maggie and her daddy in front of the row of uncomfortable fold-out chairs, her legs numb as she listened to the sorrowful music play and watched the caskets slowly being lowered into the ground. She felt Maggie's clammy hand grasping hers and squeezing tightly, and she could hear her big sister fighting back the loud sob that wanted to escape her throat. Beth knew she should've been crying, too. Or at least holding back tears._

 _But she wasn't._

 _She was staring intently as the ground swallowed up the last remnants of Momma and Shawn. Focusing on the deep black of the soil and the glossy brown of the caskets. And surprisingly, an emotion was brewing to life in her stomach for the first time all week as she spotted a small group of men in dark suits and sunglasses from the corner of her eye, circling the service like vultures._

 _It wasn't fear this time, or terror or remorse or even grief. It was anger._

 _Pure, thick, palpable, blood red_ _ **anger**_ _._

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** First flashback lyrics are from "Work Remix" by A$AP Ferg.  
Second flashback lyrics are from "Blood Red Summer" by Coheed and Cambria.

While writing the murders flashback, I drew up a visual aid to help picture the second floor layout of the Greene farmhouse, since I've loosely interpreted the layout from the show for my own purposes. You can find the photo on AO3 or the MW pinterest board! As always, you can also find a photo for this chapter in those places. And my tumblr.

Sorry for the slightly late update this time, I had a long weekend in Reno and just returned home. If you've left reviews on last chapter or sent me a PM, I promise I'm going to respond very very soon! Thank you for reading and especially for your kind words and comments!


	64. if the words that matter reach your face

_**if the words that matter reach your face from floor**_

Malachi awoke from his nap groggy and whining for food around half past noon, and Beth had only just managed to get comfortable on the couch next to Daryl and slow her racing mind. She was relieved when the toddler awoke, finding herself slightly anxious for some sort of distraction from all her nagging worries about Rick Grimes and Jesus and the national news. Daryl had put on a different movie while he and Beth sat together and Mal slept, something she wound up not paying any attention to because she was continuously checking her phone, refreshing her email, and checking her text messages inbox. Daryl had seemed to be close to drifting off for a nap himself when his son began waking up, though if he'd noticed Beth's obsessive phone-checking, he hadn't made it obvious.

By the time they'd agreed to head into the kitchen and make themselves some lunch, there was still no more word from Jesus. Beth set her phone down and told herself that his messages would arrive whether she was there to read them immediately or not, so she may as well try to continue distracting herself from the vicious anxiety welling up inside her chest. Being close to Daryl seemed to ease it at least somewhat.

Part of her was still fighting not to confide everything in him – it was difficult to stand alone when she felt so weak and crumbly. But she reminded herself that if it was too much for her, then it was _way_ too much for someone else. Especially Daryl.

She felt genuine smiles tugging at the corners of her mouth and light laughter briefly lifting the heaviness in her chest while she helped Daryl and Mal prepare lunch. Of course, Mal didn't help as much as he made more of a mess, and that was nothing compared to the mess he made while they sat at the table and ate together. But Beth and Daryl just laughed and took turns helping the toddler to keep the majority of his food out of his hair. Mal rambled on and on about their camping trip, retelling story after story even though they'd all been there to witness it themselves less than a day ago, and Daryl chuckled and nodded and reminded Mal of the snake they'd caught and the fish that he'd helped "Rosie" reel in. Mal's blue eyes widened and lit up and for a second, when Beth looked over at the small boy, she forgot all the terrifying thoughts that had been resting dormant in her head all day.

And for a moment, she was just a part of the family. When she looked over and met Daryl's strikingly-similar eyes and found a recognizable gaze that was focused solely on her, the feeling only intensified.

Jesus's messages didn't arrive until nearly half past four.

Beth and Daryl had spent the first half of the afternoon playing a board game called _Mouse Trap_ with Mal, and then the toddler had wanted to play out a movie-like sequence with his toys, which took up the other half of the afternoon. During bathroom breaks, Beth checked her phone, forcing herself to briefly glance at her inboxes while resisting the urge to obsessively refresh the various news websites. Then, shortly after Daryl had suggested that he and Mal begin cleaning up the toys and preparing for supper, Beth found Jesus's instructions waiting for her.

She briefly slipped away to her bedroom while the boys remained occupied with picking up and organizing toys, rushing over to her bedside table and grabbing a pen and a small scrap of paper. Jesus had sent two emails and one text message, with the emails containing the address and the text containing the time – and an added note that made her stomach churn and her skin prickle with dread. Altogether, his directions read:

 _NW corner of E 90th and 2nd Ave. Tomorrow, 5:25 PM. Carelessness means death. 2 Samuel 22:38._

Beth felt a chill run through her body and that dreadful coolness at the back of her neck began to form, but she swallowed hard and forced it away. She didn't have to look up the meaning of his final message - all her years of Bible study had ingrained the verse into her mind, amongst countless others. And though it may have only been a coincidence, it so happened that 2 Samuel 22:38 had always been one of her daddy's favorite verses.

She immediately recalled it with a slight shiver, Hershel's voice echoing in her head: " _I have pursued mine enemies, and destroyed them; and turned not again until I had consumed them._ "

Without another thought, she erased all the messages from her phone. She made sure to go back and double-check in a paranoid frenzy, erasing any and all messages from Jesus that were stored anywhere in her phone or mailboxes. She was left with a small scrap of paper reminding her of the time and place.

She began to wonder why Jesus would have her going out in the middle of the day – the middle of _rush hour_ , no less – to a very populated part of the city to meet him, especially after directly telling her how serious any carelessness could affect her (as if she wasn't already more than aware). It seemed terribly out of character considering the extents he'd gone to in order to ensure complete privacy during their first meeting. And a few seconds later, after looking up the exact corner that his messages were directing her to, she realized it wasn't very far from the apartment building, and it was in a pretty busy part of the city.

Was this some kind of test?

She shoved the piece of paper into the drawer and set her phone atop the bedside table, then turned and left the bedroom, willing all of the swirling contradictions and theories that were floating around in her head to stay behind as well. It was a problem for another day – tomorrow, more specifically. Today, she had more than enough to worry about with the news of Rick Grimes's miraculous recovery beginning to make its way around the news circuit. She hoped Daryl wouldn't want to turn on the cable TV at any point, at least for the rest of the night. She needed to focus on calming herself and fighting back the full-blown panic that wanted to consume her all over again, because she was almost certain her body couldn't handle another panic attack like before. Her mind _definitely_ couldn't.

Once again, she felt the strong urge to confide in Daryl. There were a dozen different statements running through her head, a million ways to tell him the truth and admit her guilt and confess all her fears and plead for his forgiveness - for his understanding. But every single scenario ended in disaster and left her feeling short of breath and light-headed. And as she emerged from her bedroom to find the boys rummaging around in the kitchen, he turned and met her eyes and flashed her a warm smile, nodding his head toward her in silent invitation. Her knees became shaky for a moment and she had to swallow back the words that wanted to burst from her mouth.

 _It's too soon. He wouldn't understand yet._

Another voice piped up, _But he_ _ **loves**_ _you. He told you himself. The hook is sunk in and you're letting him flail for no reason._

She quickly silenced both voices before they could steal her balance.

She returned the smile weakly and stepped into the kitchen, joining Daryl and Mal at the counter as they gathered up everything they needed to make dinner. But Jesus's message was still prominent in her brain, whispering constantly while she tried to concentrate solely on the toddler's loud giggles and Daryl's soft, affectionate grunts. Her ears were buzzing with the voices of ghosts and memories, warnings laced in terror, and the smoke from the fire that had consumed her family was slowly and gradually filling her lungs. The Bible verse recited inside her head over and over. Beth breathed in deeply and steadied her hands as she began preparing the vegetables, demanding that her head clear itself so she could pay attention to whatever Daryl was telling her.

"Wait – what'd you say?" She asked, pausing and glancing over at him.

Daryl's brow creased and he gave her a quick once-over with his eyes, lowering his voice and asking, "You alrigh'? Seem kinda out of it – I can handle makin' dinner if ya need t'go lay down or somethin'."

Beth's heart sped up and her cheeks grew hot, quickly turning back to focus on the vegetable she'd been chopping. "No, I'm fine," she mumbled.

She could see his brow knitting together in doubt from the corner of her eye, gazing at her a moment longer before shrugging in defeat and turning back to what he'd been doing. To her relief, Mal appeared at her side, eager for another task, and she managed to avoid Daryl's scrutinizing looks by busying herself with teaching the toddler how to help prepare dinner. And, as always, the small boy was full of long stories and more than enough questions to keep Beth occupied.

By the time they were sitting down to eat at the table, she'd caught a glimpse of a half-smile on Daryl's face and he no longer looked overly concerned for her mental health. She told herself that the tell-tale expressions on her own face would stop giving her away once she met with Jesus and got some peace of mind. And maybe – she silently hoped – something else major would happen somewhere in the country and the media's attention would be drawn far away from the case of the teenaged fugitive. A lot could happen in twenty-four hours, after all. Beth had certainly learned _that_ lesson over the last month.

But what kind of national event could happen _tonight_ that would draw all the attention away from her story? What could possibly attract America's attention enough to make them forget about her family's shitshow of a sensationalized case, especially if Fox decided to blow it up even bigger? She couldn't fathom anything that might hope to compete - at least not anything _good_. Would it have to be something much worse? A tragedy of some sort? Did that mean she was secretly hoping for something bad to happen to someone else just for the sake of her own chance at safety? Is that who she was now? Someone who wished ill upon others just for the sake of saving her own ass? Her stomach turned at that thought - at the thought of all her family members and closest friends sitting behind bars awaiting certain death while she played House with a man she barely knew - and she shook it out of her head, struggling to pull herself from the depths of her own mind for the millionth time.

 _This isn't the time to fall apart,_ she told herself. _This isn't the time to start getting weak. I have to be strong like Maggie. I have to be strong for_ _ **all**_ _of us now. Even Daddy. I won't let him see me taken in. Dead_ _ **or**_ _alive. I won't let him see that it was all for nothing._

She quieted her racing thoughts once again and forced herself to focus on the conversation at the dinner table. The sun was dipping behind the horizon outside as the lights of the city began to come alive. Mal was still rambling about the camping trip, unable to talk about anything else. Daryl was eating slowly and leisurely, responding to his son mostly in grunts and nods of the head. Beth could see the long weekend's toll evident on his face and she could only imagine that he was more than ready for a good night's sleep in his own bed.

"Dad, um – I saw – I saw pu'nkins. It's um, it's Ock-bober now, huh?" Mal asked, pushing around the last few bites of vegetables on his plate with his small fork.

"Yep, it's October now," Daryl responded.

"Does that – is it _How-oh-ween_?" The toddler asked excitedly, looking to his dad with wide, expectant eyes.

Daryl smirked, quickly swigging down the last of his milk before replying, "It will be in a few weeks, bud. And after Halloween, it's yer birthday."

Mal grinned and his eyes got even bigger. He began bouncing in his seat. "Oh my – oh, _oh_ – Dad, I wanna – Dad, I wanna be _Ant-Man_! I wanna be Ant-Man for twicka tweating!"

Beth giggled quietly and shared an amused smile with Daryl as the toddler dropped his fork and began waving his hands in excitement.

"Wosie, what're you gonna be?!" Mal asked, still grinning as he turned his attention toward Beth.

She paused and pursed her lips, suppressing another giggle. Then she shrugged and returned Mal's excited smile. "I dunno – I haven't even thought about it yet. Maybe you can help me pick out a good costume!"

The look of pure joy on Mal's face made her heart skip and he eagerly nodded. "Yeah – yeah! Oh, I _will_! I'm gonna – um, I'll help you find a _good_ one!" He turned to Daryl and quickly asked, "What 'bout you, Dad? What're you gonna be?"

Daryl shrugged, leaning back in his chair now that his plate was empty. "I'ono, ain't thought about it."

"We could coordinate – you'd look pretty cute as Danny from _Grease_ _._ Then I could be Sandy," Beth teased, watching a pink tinge form in Daryl's cheeks as he rolled his eyes at her.

Mal laughed loudly. "Dad, I love _Grease_! You should be _Grease_!"

Daryl chuckled and shook his head, looking down sheepishly. "Nah, I'm good on that. It'd take me _weeks_ ta wash out all the hair gel." He looked over to Mal and suggested, "'Sides, if yer bein' Ant-Man, then shouldn't I be Iron Man or somethin'?"

A thoughtful look crossed the toddler's face and he contemplated the question for a moment, glancing over to Beth expectantly. She raised her eyebrows and smiled back at him, then met Daryl's eyes.

"Nah – you'd make a great Captain America, though," she smiled coyly across the small table and watched with amusement as Daryl rolled his eyes again.

"That means yer gonna be Peggy Carter then, right?" He quipped, mirroring her coy smile.

"Or Bucky!" Mal chirped, grinning proudly.

Beth and Daryl burst out laughing and while Daryl was shaking his head, Beth was shrugging.

"Not a bad idea," she muttered, still smiling.

"Rather see ya with a robotic arm than a poodle skirt, anyhow," he mumbled, smirking across the table at her.

She laughed, but that didn't stop the rush of blood from flooding up her neck and into her face. She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to Daryl's nonchalant form of flirting, or if it would ever fail to lift her mind from the darkest trenches at the most unexpected moments.

And on nights like this, Beth wasn't even sure she _ever_ wanted to face the outside world again. Couldn't they have just stayed up in the mountains together forever? Couldn't she just lock herself away and hide _here_ forever?

 _No,_ _you couldn't,_ she quickly reminded herself. _And no, you_ _ **can't**_ _._

* * *

After dinner, it was the usual routine of clean-up followed by an hour or so of reading _Harry Potter_ on the couch. "Rosie" was the chosen reader on this particular night, and she was more than happy to let herself get lost in a world of wizards and magical creatures for a short time. It felt like a reprieve from reality to get swallowed up in Harry's harrowing teenage journey, unable to worry about anything other than the overwhelming powers of evil that the young wizard was going up against. She almost forgot about Rick Grimes and Fox News entirely. The matching mesmerized gazes from both boys as they hung on every word she read aloud was just an added bonus.

Daryl coaxed Mal into preparing himself for the coming morning before they all became too sleepy to care, leading the toddler into the bedroom and helping him gather together his bag and clothes for another day at Carol's. Then it was time to brush their teeth, and after that, Mal talked his dad into letting him stay up " _just a little longer_ " to play with his toys on the bedroom floor. Beth flipped through movie options on the TV absent-mindedly while they had their father-son time, listening to the comforting voices that were drifting down the hallway, smiling to herself at the silly comments that Mal made and the slightly exasperated responses coming from Daryl.

She hadn't let herself touch her phone in hours and she was still resisting the urge. Part of her feared that if she checked, she would only find more bad news. Or more networks that were picking up on her story. The only person she wanted any updates from at the moment was Jesus, and she definitely wouldn't be hearing from him for a little while. So why bother torturing herself with everything else?

She wanted to enjoy the safe bubble that was apartment 3A. At least for tonight. Even if her story went national tomorrow and her cover was blown… at least she had _one more_ night of something that felt like normalcy and peace. One more night to work out in her head how she could explain the truth to Daryl before a news anchor got to it first.

By the time Daryl finally joined her on the couch, Beth had let her mind wander and begin to race while her heart had begun to beat a little too rapidly for comfort. But as soon as he plopped down beside her and scooted in close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and letting out a long and exhausted sigh, her pulse slowed and the nagging thoughts were muffled in her head. The muscle-stiffening aftershocks of her panic attack ebbed away at last. She leaned into him and listened for the sound of Malachi's voice from down the hall, but it seemed that the toddler had finally given in and gone to sleep.

"We can watch a movie if ya want. Can't promise I'll stay awake, though," Daryl mumbled.

Beth turned her head and looked up at him, the bags beneath his eyes more prominent as his eyelids drooped with exhaustion. She'd scrolled through all the movie options at least a dozen times at this point, but nothing looked appealing, and she had the feeling he was only offering to watch something because he saw her flipping through the menu on the screen. She thought of the long weekend they'd had and how he'd most likely exhausted the last of his mental and emotional energy in assuring that she was okay, feeling slightly guilty for forcing him to stretch so far. Especially for her sake. He needed rest, probably even worse than she did. And she was certainly eager to sleep in a real bed again after two long nights in a sleeping bag.

"Or we could go to bed," she suggested.

"Yeah - that sounds nice," he agreed quietly.

In comfortable silence, they darkened the apartment and made their way to her even darker bedroom. After stripping down to their underwear, they crawled into her bed and cocooned themselves amongst blankets and warm limbs. Daryl wrapped himself around her and heaved a long sigh of contentment, and a few seconds later, his breathing had steadied and his muscles were lax against her back.

She closed her eyes and tried to forget about the clock on her nightstand that told her it was barely past nine, struggling not to grow anxious at the prospect of how few hours lay between her and the unexpected. She was wondering how she could explain her absence to Daryl - there was no way she'd be able to meet up with Jesus and get back home before Daryl returned from work. Could she tell him the truth? Or as close to the truth as she dare tread? She may as well, considering she'd already told the bluff about the "family friend." But what if he tried to pry for details or insist on going with her? What if he wanted to play the overprotective part and she had to put her foot down, or make up yet another lie? Would he get suspicious about her secrecy? Would he start to see through the thin veil?

 _No_ , she assured herself. _No, he_ _ **trusts**_ _me._

That thought churned her stomach with fresh guilt, a tiny blade labeled _taking advantage_ digging deeper into her flesh. The only thing that eased it and stilled her bouncing nerves was the assurance that she still had these last eight to twelve hours of solace to enjoy; she still had this precious time to lie in Daryl's arms and work out a plan for her next tiny step… or to just pretend Beth Greene had never existed. It wasn't much, but for now it was enough to push out the perturbing thought of Rick Grimes and Fox News and the whole rest of the nation that had seen her face and her family and all their collective sins. She didn't even have the energy to give a thought toward what might come of Jenny Jones with this update.

Beth was almost positive that she wouldn't be able to fall asleep anytime soon. But alas, Daryl's warm and quietly snoring form behind her, his strong arms wrapped around her and his warm breath against the back of her neck managed to lull her into a state of relaxation that she hadn't really thought was possible. Her eyelids drifted shut and her breathing instinctually matched the steady rhythm of his. Without knowing it, she fell asleep.

That was when the dreams returned. Or _nightmares_ , rather.

One moment, she was lying in that big soft bed with Daryl's big soft arms around her. The next, she was back on the farm, staring up at the side of her childhood home, fixated on the shape the trellis had left in the paint. She was looking at an intricate maze of her own suffering, its path leading straight up to the window of her shattered heart. And the longer she looked, the tighter her lungs constricted within her body. Before long, she was struggling to breathe.

Then Jimmy was there. His hands were gripping her arms and he was shaking her violently, a maddened look in his bloodshot eyes. His face - once beautiful and sun-kissed - was pale and pock-marked and scabbed, and he seemed nothing more than a thin layer of skin stretched taut across the skeleton of a boy she'd once loved. His voice was angry. He yelled in her face, spittle flying from his lips and dampening her cheeks.

"I am the only one who knows what you _really_ come from and who you _really_ are, Beth Greene. I'm the _only_ one who could've helped you. What the fuck makes you think you could _ever_ escape this?! You _**need**_ me! But you _**killed**_ me!"

Her eyes were filling with tears and she blinked. Jimmy was gone, but the tears weren't. The farm had disappeared. She was in the middle of a street in New York City. It was busy and teeming with people and traffic. For a second, she wondered where her family was. Then she remembered they were all locked up. Or dead.

All the traffic disappeared. Rick Grimes appeared on the other side of the street. He looked exactly as he had the night of the bust, except the side of his head was bloody and caved in. His blue eyes were full of malice and set intently on her. He was approaching her with long, angry strides.

But just as suddenly as he'd appeared, he morphed into someone else. His face changed, his body evolved. The man striding toward her was carrying a far darker shadow in his wake. She had to squint and stare, but then the realization sunk through her bones like the pain of electrocution.

 _Simon_.

"You think you can run away, li'l girl?" He laughed loudly and the echo shook the earth around her. His voice was one she didn't recognize yet feared all the same. "You can hide, but not forever. There ain't no _running_ from this."

She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. Her eyes popped open and she found herself back in bed with Daryl warm against her back and snoring near her ear. Her cheeks were wet with tears and she reached a hand up to roughly wipe them away.

She glanced at the clock and saw that it was just past midnight. She let out a long sigh and closed her eyes, every muscle beneath the blanket feeling weaker than before she'd gone to sleep. She was contemplating getting up and stepping outside for fresh air when the next wave of sleep took her under. Consciousness evaded her and the blackness consumed her mind once more.

This time, she was back in the closet at home, staring through the slatted door and watching moonlight drift across pools of crimson blood. She could feel the dampness of urine along the inside of her legs and soaking through her pajama pants. Then the door was yanked open and cold air hit her face like a freight train. Maggie was standing before her, a wild look in her green eyes, brown hair disheveled and pale cheeks wet with tears. She reached out and grabbed Beth by the wrists, yanking her forward painfully. She gripped Beth's left wrist and turned it over, holding it up between them. The thick scar looked fresh again, red and grisly and bordered with stitch marks.

Maggie screamed at her, "Open it up, _Rosie_! Let everybody see how _weak_ you are! _You_ did this, you let Mom an' Shawn die because you're too _**stupid**_! You _killed_ a cop - you're a fucking _**murderer**_! You should've _never_ been a Greene."

And when Beth looked back down at the wound on her wrist, she could see it slowly opening up to reveal the fat and muscle and tendon beneath her pale skin. The dark red blood seeped out and dripped onto the carpet beneath her feet. She felt sick to her stomach, the urge to vomit suddenly overwhelming.

"Go on," Maggie urged harshly, her face rigid with fury and her fingers tightening around Beth's wrist. "Open it up! Show them _all_ who you _**really**_ are!"

She wanted to scream back, _I can't, they'll all leave me and I can't be alone! I tried, I did the best that I could!_

But her mouth wouldn't cooperate. She couldn't seem to find her voice. And the urge to vomit wasn't receding.

Then she woke up again. Her chest was heaving and her cheeks were damp with more tears. The clock told her it was nearly three. She wasn't shocked or distressed to find that Daryl had disappeared and his side of the bed was quickly cooling - she was almost relieved because she was afraid she would've disturbed him otherwise. But there was a thin film of sweat across Beth's entire body and a cramping in her stomach that wouldn't go away. The urge to vomit had seemed to follow her into consciousness.

She lay uncomfortably for several minutes before finally deciding to push herself up and out of bed, leaving behind a tangle of sweat-dampened blankets. This nausea wasn't anything like the morning sickness that had so ominously haunted her. It was somehow worse. Her emotions were taking over everything, dictating every reaction from her body that she didn't want and didn't need. At this point, not even Daryl's strong arms could warm the chill that had spread through her veins and settled beneath her skin nor the faint sensation of chronic seasickness that worked to turn her guts into mush. She tiptoed through the dark quiet bedroom and out into the hall, assuring herself that the boys' bedroom was dark and the door was half-open at the end of the hallway like it usually was. She could faintly make out the sound of Daryl's snoring from somewhere inside.

In the bathroom, she tried to splash cold water on her face and rinse away the salty tears and cold dread that her nightmares had left behind. But then she happened to catch a glimpse of the scar on her wrist and it turned her stomach. The anxiety-induced nausea returned full-force and all she could picture was the gruesome image from her dream. She couldn't stop imagining the scar slitting wide open and bleeding, revealing fatty tissue and tendons and weeping crimson tears. She couldn't stop remembering what it had looked like when she'd sliced her own wrist open, how she'd cut so much deeper than she'd meant to, and how it had filled her head with black stars and stolen the breath from her lungs. She couldn't forget the sharp pain of the needle and thread penetrating her skin over and over again, and how shaky Maggie's hands had been and how it had only made it hurt so much worse. It all made her want to slam her eyes shut and vomit.

She couldn't stop asking herself how she could ever have been so _goddamn stupid._

She fought back the urge for a good amount of time, but once her face was dry and she was facing the prospect of returning to bed, it overtook her again. She wound up crouched in front of the toilet, dry-heaving and spitting and trying her best to be quiet about it. She managed to keep down most of what she'd eaten for dinner.

When she finally overcame the nausea and rinsed her mouth, she composed herself and returned to bed. The big empty space had dried and cooled while she was gone and she let out a sigh of relief as she sunk down into the mattress, willing her body to relax and stop eating itself alive. She struggled to get comfortable for several long minutes and attempted to replay the weekend over in her head: flashes of Daryl in the woods and lying next to her beside a campfire, his gruff voice whispering out spine-tingling confessions. It was the only thing that kept her heart from beating out of her chest.

She didn't want to fall asleep again, but her eyelids were heavy and her muscles were weak. A small part of her wanted to pick up her phone and scroll through the news sites and scour the internet for her name, even though it would be nothing more than a form of self-torture. She stared at the clock for as long as she could, watching the minutes tick by, reminding herself that Daryl would be getting up for work in less than two hours and that she could just lie there and wait instead of having to suffer through more nightmares. If nothing else, she could even get up extra early and make breakfast.

Yet her body seemed to be working against her as usual.

She didn't realize she was dreaming until she'd already taken three long strides across a dusty wooden floor, eyes set on a flickering candle in the distance. Even then, she wasn't entirely sure that she hadn't skipped ahead in time to her meeting with Jesus. It was another abandoned building, dark and musty and void of human life, but she had the feeling that she was not alone.

Sure enough, with one more stride forward a shadowy figure came into view before her. He lifted his head and pushed back his hood to reveal a black beanie covering long brown hair and the familiar bearded face of Jesus. His emerald eyes were cold and his mouth was set in a thin line.

"I have bad news," he told her simply.

 _Oh no,_ she thought. _Maggie's dead. Daddy's dead. And Daryl knows who I am. The police are on their way to lock me up forever._

But before she could ask what he meant, he said very matter-of-factly, "You have to die, Beth Greene."

The candle behind him flickered and the flame jumped, casting large ominous shadows across the wall behind him. The air left Beth's body in a soft huff of defeat.

"I'm already dead," she said. She didn't know where the words had come from.

He shook his head and frowned. "No," his voice grew agitated. "You're _not_. You're not supposed to be _living_ when we've all sacrificed so much to keep you that way. It's time to _die_."

She started to argue, "But Daryl and Malachi - "

"Run," Jesus interrupted, his voice booming around her and echoing off the empty walls. "Or _**die**_! Make the choice, Beth Greene, make it _now_!"

She turned and ran.

* * *

Beth awoke with a jolt and for the briefest moment, she could feel Daryl lying beside her again. But when she opened her eyes and rolled over, she found the bed empty and his pillow cold and she realized that she'd only been expecting his presence after waking up beside him all weekend. Then she heard the muffled sounds of footsteps in the kitchen and the hallway and Mal's high-pitched voice from outside her closed bedroom door. The weight of reality crashed down upon her head and chest and she groaned under her breath, her head already filling with a million stressful thoughts. The clock told her she'd lost nearly two hours to another restless nap full of nightmarish images and a racing heart.

She lay completely still beneath the blankets for a few minutes, contemplating two dreadful options: either get up and face the world and what she knew was coming today, or close her eyes and try to drift back to unconsciousness and an onslaught of terrifying dreams. It seemed like a long time before she finally made the decision and forced herself out of bed. The room was dark and cool, and she thought it felt somehow colder without Daryl beside her. But the sound of Mal's voice just outside the door urged her onward and helped motivate her to slip her clothes on and rub the sleep from her eyes.

When she emerged from the bedroom, she found the kitchen light on and the makings of breakfast laid about on the counter. She turned and walked out toward the living room to witness Mal still clad in pajamas at Daryl's side, holding up a banana and asking his dad to peel it for him. Daryl's back was to her, though, and all she could see was his motionless form standing frozen by the couch, his attention completely set on the TV. Her heart skipped and she glanced past him to see the news on the screen.

Her stomach plummeted down to her feet and she wasn't aware she was stepping forward until it had already happened. Then she was standing less than a foot away from Daryl, staring with wide eyes at the anchorwoman on TV, listening intently to every word she said and struggling to read all the headlines that were popping up at the bottom of the screen.

For a second, Beth thought she might be dreaming again. But she _knew_ she wasn't. If it were a nightmare, the story being reported would've been vastly different. The words she'd expected to hear weren't the same as the words that were currently reaching her ears, and the headlines she was reading were nothing close to the headlines she'd been dreading and anticipating.

 _3 Dead and 27 Injured in Las Vegas Shooting; Suspect(s) Unknown and At Large._

"...and this number is _not_ final, there are still more updates to come. Keep in mind, this happened just _hours_ ago, first reported shortly before eleven p.m. in Las Vegas, making it just before two a.m. here in New York. Sources are reporting there was trampling during the panic - and again, this was a music festival with children and adults of _all_ ages in attendance, when a shooter - or _multiple_ shooters - suddenly began firing rounds into the crowd during the headlining concert of the night. The Las Vegas Strip has been closed off until the suspects are found and apprehended. There's still no confirmation on whether it was someone in the crowd, or how many active shooters the police are searching for, but we're getting numerous reports about injuries and possible fatalities, and emergency rooms are currently _overflowing_ in their attempts to help all those who need medical attention. Our social media team has reported _hundreds_ of posts about the ride-sharing service, Uber, being utilized - and drivers are _voluntarily_ driving the injured victims to nearby hospitals while ambulances continue to struggle to reach the scene…"

Daryl sensed her presence and glanced back at her to give a slight nod of acknowledgment. She could see that his eyes were still glassy and bloodshot from sleep, his hair a tangled mess. He was frowning when he turned back to the TV. She took another step forward to stand beside him and Mal, reaching down to help the toddler with his banana, when she saw the remote in Daryl's hand. Her heart skipped as he pressed a button and changed the channel. A different news broadcast popped up on the screen, and its headlines and anchorman were reporting updated numbers: 5 dead and 63 injured, unknown shooters still not apprehended. Mal crawled up onto the couch with his banana, groggy and focused solely on the fruit in his hands.

"I was just lookin' fer a weather report, but this is on every damn channel," Daryl muttered, his voice deeper and more hoarse than usual. His eyes were fixated on the TV screen. "Feels like I'm watchin' the Twin Towers all over again or somethin'…"

Beth shuddered, unable to do much more than nod meekly.

He flipped through a couple more news channels to reveal similar broadcasts, all of them showing footage of the chaos outside a venue in Las Vegas, each network differing in their reports of the numbers dead and injured. She noticed it was jumping higher and higher with what seemed like every minute that passed.

According to the reports, the shooting had taken place mere hours ago. And from the looks of it, she was guessing that the media coverage wouldn't let up anytime soon, especially if it had been hours without any news of a suspect. The nation would want to see justice come from this story, and there was nothing like a tragic shooting in a major city to draw all of America's attention.

For an extremely blissful and extremely fleeting few seconds, Beth could feel relief washing through her whole body. _My prayers were answered,_ she thought as she watched Daryl flip through every single news network to find the exact same story being endlessly reported. _Fox News will forget about me and Rick Grimes so long as they have this to focus on. I have just a little more time to figure out the next move._

Then the overwhelming sense of self-abhorrence came crashing down upon her and the bliss was gone. How could she be so _selfish_? How could she possibly be so vile and downright evil to be _glad_ about such a tragedy occurring? She should be ashamed and disgusted, not only with what happened, but with how relieved she felt about it.

She hadn't wanted a _tragedy_. Not like this. _Never_ like this. But… goddammit, she _did_ have more time now. As long as the media focused on this instead of the miraculous recovery of Detective Grimes. Nevertheless, her stomach twisted and turned with a million tiny knives of guilt, shame, and regret.

 _Holy shit, I really am a terrible person,_ she thought, her heart dropping down into her stomach. _Do I even deserve this second chance?_

She wondered what Jesus would have to say about it. Would he tell her to take advantage of this blessing in disguise? Or would he tell her that she'd already been too reckless and fucked herself over, that there was no chance of redemption anymore no matter what she did? What if he ended up cancelling their meeting altogether because of this sudden media takeover? Should she check her inbox for a "crisis averted" message? By her realistic estimate, she wouldn't get _that_ lucky; she assumed he would still want to lecture her or try to urge her to move on to a different city.

Or did he have some other kind of terrible news to add to the already back-breaking load she was constantly carrying?

* * *

The weather in the city was a drastic change from the mountains. By the time Daryl and Mal had left for the day, the sun had risen and the last traces of clouds were drifting out of sight. Breakfast had been more quiet and uneventful than usual, and Beth could tell it was a mixture of exhaustion from their long weekend and Daryl's dread at having to go back to work. With the Las Vegas news reports still lingering in her head, she'd decided against informing him about her little excursion that was planned for the evening. Once the apartment was empty again, she assured herself that it would be easier and much more casual if she let him know via text message and assured him to expect her for dinner. At least that way, she wouldn't have to worry about facing an onslaught of questions or overprotective comments. And she wouldn't be lying - not really.

She opened up the windows in the apartment and let in the crisp autumn air and the aroma of city life mixed with dead foliage and the remnants of morning humidity. She stood by the window and gazed down at all the people on their Monday morning commutes for a while, a warm mug of coffee cupped between her hands and a distant, far-off expression on her face. Her eyes were watching everything and nothing at all, and her mind was racing nonstop. There was no reprieve from the anxiety that constantly boiled beneath her skin. The nightmares kept replaying in her head on a loop, refusing to fade away with the morning mists.

It was during the moment that she'd decided to step away and turn on the TV in hopes of finding more news reports that it suddenly clicked in her head: Irma and Dale were in Nevada. The conversation Beth had with Irma before the camping trip had nearly escaped her memory entirely, but just like that, it had returned and she immediately panicked. What had the older woman said exactly? Didn't she say that they had planned to head to Las Vegas within the next couple of days? And if that was on Friday, then that meant they could've been present for the shooting. Or - God forbid - they'd been _involved_.

Without a second of hesitation, Beth rushed to her phone and snatched it up, then found Irma's number and dialed it. To her relief, the older woman answered on the third ring, and she sounded perfectly normal. Beth sighed audibly and asked Irma if everything was okay. She could hear from the other end of the phone that the couple had heard the same news and were very distraught. But they assured Beth that they were perfectly fine, although they had a friend who'd gotten caught up in the tragedy. Beth expressed her remorse and offered condolences before Irma assured her that everything would be okay and that she and Dale would be in contact once things had settled down.

Once she'd hung up, Beth didn't feel much better. Sure, Dale and Irma were fine, and her own story wasn't going national anytime soon. But at what cost? And how long could this breath of relief actually last before Jesus interrupted it with whatever devastating news he had? She couldn't bear to tear herself apart over it much longer because the anxiety was making her physically sick and all she wanted was to relax and prepare for her upcoming meeting.

She checked in on the news reports on TV for several hours, switching back and forth between that and checking her phone. The numbers kept rising in the Las Vegas tragedy, and by mid-afternoon, they were reporting it as a "mass shooting." A pang of guilt shot through her every time she thought of Dale and Irma and their injured friend. There was still no hint of Rick Grimes or Beth Greene on any of the networks, and the articles online had already been overtaken by newer headlines and breaking reports about Las Vegas.

Just like that, the nation was fixated on who could've possibly taken dozens of lives in Nevada during the late hours of Sunday night, and Beth could already tell that it would be the only thing anyone would be talking about for the next week. Maybe longer, depending on how long it took to locate the shooter(s).

She tried to distract herself but to no avail. Her hands were too restless for the guitar, her mind was wandering off too often to focus on a book, and she couldn't sit still long enough to watch anything besides news reports on TV. She couldn't even manage to eat more than a couple of pieces of toast as her appetite had suddenly disappeared. She wound up drinking too much coffee and making herself more jittery than usual. And amidst it all, she kept thinking about Daryl and Mal, and her stomach kept filling with heavy dread every time she wondered what Jesus would tell her and what it might mean for her current living situation.

Would she have to lie to Jesus, too? When it came down to it, would she have to assure him that she was heeding _all_ his advice - even if it meant fibbing about disposing of the gun, omitting the little detail about how attached she'd actually gotten to her roommates? Would he even believe her?

She was prepared for whatever the case may be. Yet still, she couldn't help but entertain the idea of telling Daryl the truth, retreating to a place she'd visited countless times during their peaceful weekend retreat. The first step to assuring her continued safety in the city would be making sure that the man she… _loved_ … knew just how dire the situation was. But there was no conceivable way to do such a thing that she could possibly imagine, no possible way to fully express the breadth of the matter and how much regret she was constantly filled with. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to string together the correct words to explain everything to him without shattering every last piece of trust she'd managed to scrounge up, without making him _hate_ her… or without losing him and Malachi forever.

She began to wonder if that was the _only_ solution. Maybe Daryl would inevitably hate her and that would be what she needed to finally break away and leave New York, to finally take Jesus's advice and stop being so fucking reckless and selfish, to finally admit to herself that she was alone - _completely_ alone - and that she _had_ to be alone in order to survive and prevent the suffering of others. Maybe that was the sign from God she _really_ needed, the sign she'd been subconsciously waiting for ever since that first fateful kiss. Maybe that was His plan all along. Perhaps Daryl and Mal were nothing more than a lesson, no different than all those horrific lessons she'd read about in the Bible.

Maybe she would _have_ to burn the bridge in order to keep herself from crossing back over it. Even if that meant suffering the burns and scars it would inevitably leave behind… for all parties involved.

Just another lesson for them both, she reckoned. Daryl should've never trusted her. Although that didn't make the pain any less worse. The guilt throbbed within her muscles with a new intensity. She thought she might collapse from the weight of all her horrible decisions. But she'd come too far to slow down, too far to stop or give up. She had to keep going, keep hiding, keep _running_. It was all she knew anymore.

Four p.m. came and went, leaving Beth dry-heaving in the bathroom and covered in a cold sweat at the prospect of her coming meeting. She would have to leave soon if she wanted to make it on time but the fear of seeing Jesus again was making her physically ill. Nonetheless, she forced herself upright and managed to compose herself long enough to overcome the crippling anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her at any moment, ignoring the way it knotted her guts into a jumbled mess. There was no way she could handle another attack like last night, especially not now and _especially_ not alone. She reminded herself that she had a job to do, that she wasn't the only one relying on herself.

She could almost hear Maggie's nagging voice in the back of her head: " _You're a Greene. Now act like one."_ So she got dressed and gathered her bag together. The Beretta fit snugly into the little pocket on the undershirt, as though it remembered its place. For a second, Beth thought it felt foreign, but then she realized the tight fit of the concealing undershirt and the presence of the gun back in its usual spot was comforting. Almost like holding an old baby blanket again. She slipped on skinny jeans and a baggy black T-shirt with her black boots, shrugging the black leather jacket onto her shoulders before pulling the white knitted cap on over her head. She pulled it down until all the frizziest and waviest parts of her dyed-black hair were tucked under or pressed down to her neck, then slipped on her sunglasses and stuffed her phone into her pocket. Last but not least, she double-checked her bag: all her cash, her daddy's pocketwatch, and the photo she'd pulled back out from beneath her pillow.

She wanted to have everything on her. Just in case.

As she was heading out her bedroom door, she paused and glanced back at the crucifix on the wall, but then her eyes immediately drifted over to settle on the drawings pinned above her bed. A surge of pain shot through her chest and she swallowed hard, taking one last long gaze and trying to preserve a mental photograph. A part of her wanted to pull the drawings down and tuck them into her bag along with the photo of her old family. But she quickly decided against it and turned around, leaving the bedroom without a second look backward. She pushed away all the images of the adorable little blond toddler that wanted to invade her head and halt her in her tracks.

And a short time later, through a haze of fear and dread, she was hailing a cab and riding in silence to the address she'd scribbled onto a scrap of paper. Halfway there, she sent a text to Daryl that she'd been composing in her head all day: " _That family friend I told you about wants to meet up for a bit so I'll be home a little while after you get home. Don't worry, I'll be safe. See you soon._ "

Then it was an excruciating three minutes before her phone vibrated with a response from him, and she read it over at least five times in an effort to calm herself:

 _Okay. If you need me just call and I'll be there in a heartbeat. Be extra safe. Can't wait to see you babe._

Her heart reactively skipped and she felt the slightest sense of reassurance, a sudden upbeat of confidence rushing through her veins and the hint of a smile tugging at her mouth. She reread the text message at least five times during the drive, her stomach fluttering wildly every time.

She reached her destination at exactly 5:19 and quickly paid the driver before getting out and seeking the most-shadowed nearby corner to stand in. It was difficult to feel invisible among the rush hour traffic and slew of pedestrians, and just as she'd feared it was one of the busiest parts of the city during the busiest time of day. It felt like a million eyes were upon her at once, even though she was looking around and realizing that everyone was far too wrapped up in themselves to notice the little dark-haired girl huddled against the side of a building. She kept her sunglasses on and avoided eye contact, though her nerves were still bumping around clumsily. The gun felt hot and heavy beneath her arm and beside her breast.

Nonetheless, she clutched the strap of her bag in one hand while her phone was held tightly in the other, and she checked the time repetitively while glancing around and searching for any sign of Jesus or the curly-haired man from before. The entire situation was so vastly different from the extreme confidentiality of their first meeting that it was jarring. She had her doubts that they would meet her out in the open during daylight hours, but she also had her doubts that they would involve anyone else unless absolutely necessary. All in all, she had no idea what to expect. After three minutes of waiting, she'd convinced herself that she should logically be expecting - and searching for - the curly-haired man. She figured he would most likely be the one to escort her to wherever Jesus was hiding.

She watched the time tick over to 5:25 on the screen of her phone and her eyes immediately shot up to dart around in search of any signs or arrivals. For thirty long seconds, nothing changed. People continued to pass her by without so much as a glance and the cars in the street didn't stop or slow down. Then she spotted it: a shiny black sedan with dark-tinted windows slowed near the curbside directly in front of her and rolled to a stop. She glanced around nervously but no one seemed to take note of the vehicle. Or Beth.

Her phone vibrated in her hand and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She looked down to find an incoming call from an unknown number. Without hesitation, she pressed Answer and put the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Get in."

The call beep beeped in her ear and the line went silent. She was staring through her dark sunglasses at the black sedan the whole time.

Her heart felt like it had stopped inside her chest as she shoved her phone into her pocket and strode forward on numb legs, crossing the sidewalk without ever taking her eyes off the car or taking a breath. When she approached, the back door opened to reveal an empty backseat, the interior made of all leather and even darker than the outer paint. Her knees were beginning to tremble so she climbed into the car and shut the door before they had a chance to buckle beneath her.

She didn't breathe or blink until she was sitting inside the car, black leather squeaking quietly against the fabric of her clothes. She pulled the bag from her shoulders and set it aside before buckling her seatbelt. The car began moving and she could see traffic flowing around them through the windows, but all she could see of the driver was a head of black hair and a pair of broad shoulders. He was wearing dark sunglasses and facing forward, both hands gripping the steering wheel, never so much as wincing in her direction. He breathed silently and didn't speak a word, and the inside of the car was eerily quiet as they drove through the city.

They drove for a long time. The sun dipped behind the horizon and the moon appeared faintly from behind tall buildings, stars twinkling to life around it. The car rode smoothly through congested streets and intersections, passing through a tunnel here and crossing over a bridge there. They were halfway across before she gazed down into the deep blue waters of the East River and realized she recognized the bridge: it was the Tri Borough Bridge. By then, she knew that they had to be heading to the Bronx, although she had momentary doubts when she remembered that she didn't exactly know the city all that well and she could very well be on her way to somewhere farther past the part of New York that Carol had introduced her to.

It was an hour later when they came to a complete stop, and Beth checked her GPS to be sure that they were in the Bronx. The driver remained silent but she knew they'd arrived at their destination because they were parked beside a curb once more, though it was far less busy in this particular neighborhood - and far more sketchy. The areas they'd driven through had looked far different than what she'd seen on her trips with Carol, and this part of the Bronx was certainly not a part that she was anywhere close to being familiar with. It was shadier and darker, dimly lit and more run down and desolate with less greenery to offer and more graffiti and broken-down vehicles than anything else. Without a word, she opened the door and exited the car, shutting the door gently behind her. As soon as she stepped up onto the sidewalk and away from the black sedan, it drove off and disappeared from sight down the long street.

Beth found herself in a foreign neighborhood surrounded by looming buildings and faded signs, accompanied by a haze of intimidation and fear. The establishments before her sat on a corner and were tucked away amongst larger buildings, walls made of brick and stone and covered in graffiti. There were a few run-down vehicles in the small parking lot and one lone motorcycle. She took an unsure step forward and looked around, heart racing. Then she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. It was a text message from an unknown number:

 _Enter the bar._

She glanced around and realized the business she was facing was, in fact, a bar. Although it looked to be the sketchiest residence in the vicinity. There was a chipped and faded sign hanging above the heavy steel door that read: " _The Kingdom_." Beth walked forward with shaky legs, phone gripped tightly in her hand and pulse thumping against her throat.

When she approached the front door, she instinctively reached out for the handle but stopped as soon as she noticed the sign posted on the brick just below eye-level: " _Members Only. Press Button For Entrance_." Then she spotted the button next to the door handle. Tentatively, she pressed it. And waited. She grasped the strap of her bag with one hand like a security blanket, the other hand flexing and itching at her side with anticipation.

There were no windows to see inside of the bar but she'd already taken note of the tiny security camera tucked into the corner of the awning above her. She made sure to keep her head low and her hat pulled down over the majority of her hair, sunglasses still covering her eyes despite the complete lack of sun. A second passed, then three more. Her heart was beating erratically and she was debating on turning around and walking far away. What if this wasn't even the right bar? It said members only, but she wasn't a member. Would she be turned away even if it was the right bar?

Then a loud buzzing sound filled her ears, causing her to jump, quickly followed by the click of a lock. Reflexively, she reached out and yanked on the door handle. The heavy steel door pulled open and she slipped inside.

All she could think was, _They were expecting me_.

Smoke filled her nose and the door fell shut behind her with a decisive _click_ as it relocked. The inside of the building was even darker than the early evening outside and she had no choice but to slip her sunglasses up to rest atop her head, then it took her eyes a moment to adjust and another moment for her lungs to adjust to the stale air. But when they did, she strode forward cautiously, following a narrow hallway of bare brick walls and hard tile floor. There was a slight ramp at the very end that led her upward before opening up to a large dimly-lit and smoke-filled room made up of the same old brick and scuffed tile. It was barely big enough to be called a business - probably the same size as the entire first floor of her old farmhouse back in Senoia. But it seemed to serve its purpose because she saw a bar set near the back, small and modest, and a pair of doors off to the side labeled " _Restroom_ " and " _Authorized Entrance Only_." The rest of the area was filled with tables and booths, some of them so large that they could fit Beth's entire family with chairs to spare. The lights in the ceilings were dim and there was a smoky haze hanging in the air, stinging her eyes until she fully adjusted to the change of atmosphere. And there was no jukebox, she noticed, and no TVs lining the walls or hanging above the bar. There was only one TV sitting off in the far corner, and she could see from where she stood that it was tuned to a news channel with the closed captioning turned on and the volume so low that it was inaudible. The whole place smelled of stale cigarette smoke, rich tobacco, and an odd mixture of aged liquors and pungent colognes.

The people that filled the bar were a whole other story. There was one lone bartender behind the bar, apparently busy organizing liquor bottles and counting money. The rest of the establishment was filled with a wide variety of men - white men and brown men and black men, men with short hair and long hair and shaved sides and dreadlocks and shiny bald heads, hair that was white-blonde and bright red and black as night, men wearing dark sunglasses and darker suits and ties, some of them sporting nothing more than jeans and T-shirts and modest jackets, men who looked far too wealthy to be in a place like this sitting close with men who could pass as homeless. And she couldn't help but notice how low everyone was speaking amongst one another, how they leaned in close across tables and squeezed into booths, how some of them spoke animatedly with excessive hand gestures and wild facial expressions while others appeared to be whispering dark secrets over wine glasses and whiskey tumblers and lit cigars. And all the _languages_ \- a little English, some Russian, some Spanish, some Japanese, some French, and… she couldn't be sure, but maybe some Italian and even a bit of Creole? The foreign accents hit her ears harshly and she struggled not to whip her head around in every direction to stare at them all with wonderment and curiosity. She'd heard a lot of new languages since she'd been in New York City, but never so many vastly different regions in such a small area.

Most of all, she'd never seen such a wide variety of extremely intimidating men in one place before. Nor had she felt so small and helpless and utterly out-of-place. She glanced around anxiously and searched for Jesus or his accomplice, but she could barely recall their faces. Would she even recognize them if she saw them? And what if this was some kind of trick? What if they'd lured her here under false pretenses? It certainly didn't seem like the kind of place Jesus would want to meet her at. But then again, they'd only met once before, so she wasn't sure if she should expect an old abandoned building every time or not. Could he really be blending in amongst this mind-boggling crowd of strangers?

She was about to turn and leave before any of the men in the bar took notice of her (she was still surprised that not a single head had turned at her entrance), but then a man was approaching her from the right. He'd stood from a small booth tucked away in the corner and was walking with intent in her direction. She inadvertently froze until she found herself standing face-to-face with him. She remained frozen for a split-second, taking in his appearance: short cut curly brown hair, round azure eyes, high forehead, and a neatly trimmed mustache and beard covering full lips and a narrow jaw. He was towering at least a foot over her. Then he offered a warm smile and the recognition finally clicked in Beth's head.

He looked different in decent lighting and without his hoodie, but it was Jesus's friend. This time, he was wearing slacks and a baby blue blazer over a light gray button-up shirt. Relief flooded through her and she felt her jaw unclench. He must've read the expression on her face because he raised his eyebrows and smiled a little wider, lighting up his seawater eyes.

"Beth," he said simply, his voice soft and surprisingly reassuring. "You made it."

She nodded hesitantly and blinked, glancing around and subconsciously searching for signs of suspicion from those that occupied the surrounding space, trying to ignore the unsettling sound of her real name spoken aloud. Yet it repeated and rattled around inside her skull like an off-tune melody, reminding her of someone she barely recognized anymore.

 _Not Rosie._ _ **Beth**_ _,_ she thought. _It rhymes with_ _ **meth**_ _._

She eyed the booth in the corner from where the tall man had appeared before meeting his gaze again. For some reason, she couldn't figure out what to say. Her mouth opened but nothing came out so she quickly snapped it shut. She could feel the blood draining from her face and suddenly, the whole thing felt too _real_. She wasn't so sure that she was actually ready for whatever this meeting was about to bring. There were brief flashes of Daryl and Malachi flickering in her mind's eye, along with Clem and Tara and Rosita and Carol. An imminent dread was making her blood thick and heavy in her veins.

Was this it? Would she finally be coming face-to-face with the decision to flee all the people she'd grown to love over the last month? Would this be her punishment for finding undeserved joy in a time of utter despair?

He gave her a chance to speak and shrugged it off when she didn't, probably recognizing the hesitation on her face by this point. "It's okay, you're safe here. You're amongst friends," he assured her, his voice low and calm.

She swallowed hard but it only made her mouth drier than it already was. She couldn't begin to explain that being recognized was one of her least worries at the moment. His smile remained and he turned sideways, gesturing in the general direction of the booth.

"Jesus is waiting for you."

He motioned for her to follow him and led the way back to the booth, passing by a few tables full of men conversing in foreign languages. Beth kept her eyes straight ahead, fear coursing through her veins like ice water, trying hard to ignore the cold and malicious tones of some of the overheard conversations. Even though she couldn't understand the language, she could understand the message. All the conversations sounded like the ones she'd overheard in her daddy's study time and time again, full of ominous malice and unspoken promises. It made her second-guess the curly-haired man's confident words.

Were these her _friends_ now? Men who looked no different than the men who'd hovered over Momma and Shawn's funeral and staked out the farmhouse in the months before the bust? Was she nothing more than one of them now?

Or was _Jesus_ one of them? Had he been an enemy all along? Was she about to be completely blindsided by the cold hard truth?

She was suddenly realizing that she hadn't put nearly as much thought into the whole situation as she should have. She'd blindly followed Maggie's written advice without ever giving it a second thought - maybe it had been a mistake, or maybe Maggie had forgotten she'd left the message inside the money because things had changed so quickly. Maybe there was a reason she didn't mention Jesus or any of the actual escape plan before they fled the farm that night. Maybe Beth was never supposed to have found those directions, maybe Maggie had only meant for her to hide and _stay_ hidden. Maybe Maggie had intended for Beth not to trust _anyone_.

Her strained voice echoed in Beth's head: _"I planned for this."_

It was too late for any of that now, though. Beth was already approaching the booth, sliding in to sit on the empty side of the table with unease while the curly-haired man took the empty spot on the other side next to Jesus.

She was already trapped. And she was face-to-face with Jesus once again, surrounded by men she'd never seen before yet feared all the same. Now was _not_ the time to begin questioning loyalties.

Jesus looked paler than she remembered, but she figured it could be attributed to the difference in lighting and setting. Other than that, he appeared unchanged: the same long brown hair and matching beard, the same round and lively blue-green eyes and high cheekbones, even the same beanie on his head pulled low to his eyebrows. He wore a dark leather jacket over a black shirt with a pristine white bandanna hanging loosely around his neck, and cupped a tall glass of amber liquid in one hand atop the table. To her surprise, he smiled at her and leaned back in his seat.

"Beth Greene," he spoke, his voice calm and almost unsettling. "I can assume you read all our warnings and prepared yourself for what may come next?"

The sound of her real name was so jarring it made her wince. Again. She had to consciously remind herself of who she really was.

 _Not Rosie._ _ **Beth**_ _,_ she thought. _It rhymes with_ _ **death**_ _._

Her mouth was full of cotton but she forced herself to swallow and find her voice. She struggled to pull it up from the depths of her throat, unable to tear her eyes away from his intense gaze. After what felt like several long seconds, she managed to speak. "Yes - and I thought we were being extra _cautious_. You said I'm in danger."

Jesus's smile turned to amusement for a brief moment. He glanced out toward the other tables and other men in the bar before assuring her, "You are. But not _here_. The Kingdom is a kind of refuge for people like me - and people like _you_. There's no need to disguise ourselves for the moment. Every person in here is wanted by the police… whether the police know it or not."

Beth's breath hitched in her chest and she looked out across the bar with sudden recognition. _Criminals_ , every one of them. Just like Jesus.

Just like _her_.

The words burst out before she could stop them, though she didn't dare speak louder than a whisper, " _Murderers_? Or… what, like the mafia?"

The curly-haired man snickered but didn't say anything. Jesus's smile widened and she could see him stifling a chuckle.

He shook his head, blinking slowly and speaking with an abundance of patience as his smile faded. "Not exactly. The mafia is practically non-existent these days, and the few families that remain have chosen to lay particularly low in an effort to stay under the radar of law enforcement. These people around us might be labelled mercenaries and hitmen and fugitives and criminals, but they're really not - a criminal is a threat to innocent life... That's not what any of us _do_. We _protect_ innocent life. The _real_ criminals are the ones holding political offices, the ones who wear badges and guns to work everyday, even the ones who sit behind benches and dole out sentences. There's no place for the old factions anymore, or things like 'the mob' and 'the mafia' - those who cared for their communities and enforced the _people's_ justice. My colleagues and I are the types to work underground and move silently. The only problem is that means that everything we do takes much longer than we'd like… because we have so many forces actively working against us. And we all have a _lot_ more at stake."

Beth took all this in and blinked. She wasn't quite sure she understood, though. "So… what does that have to do with me? What're you tryin' ta say?"

His face fell and he frowned. "You're well aware that Rick Grimes woke up. And I know you must be scared for what that means when it comes to the authorities' search for you… But _he's_ not the danger here."

She stared back at Jesus quizzically. She was doubting herself as she guessed, "No - it's the media, right? The national news putting my face everywhere. They're risking my whole cover."

He shook his head and her stomach fell down to her feet. Before he even said it, she already knew that it was going to be bad.

"The media is _not_ your enemy. The FBI and the cops and even the people prosecuting your family - they're all minor threats at this point. There are ways to evade them, even to _escape_ them." His voice was low and ominous, sending chills up and down her spine. His eyes darkened to match his tone and he was leaning slightly forward, elbows resting on the tabletop as he explained, "There's someone else a _million_ times more dangerous, a million times harder to evade... and a million times more intent on finding you and finishing what your father started."

His statement triggered something inside her. The panic button flipped and she felt her heart begin to race. A cold sweat formed on the back of her neck.

 _No, no, no please_ _ **no**_ _,_ she thought desperately, begging God or whoever might be listening. _No no no no not him,_ _ **please**_ _don't say it._ _ **Please**_ _not him._

The curly-haired man had gone completely silent and he was staring downward with something that resembled dread, though Beth was paying very little attention to him anymore. Jesus's voice had lowered to barely more than a whisper and he leaned across the table, staring at her and right through her all at the same time.

His words penetrated her skin like a million microscopic penknives. "You _know_ who ordered those men to murder your mom and brother… don't you, Beth?"

She wanted to push the thought out before it could invade her mind, wanted to deny the very reality and stand up and flee, to refuse to accept it as fact. But it was too late. A million locked-away memories of Maggie's grief-stricken voice and her daddy's angry shouts were filling her head, invading her mind and taking over her emotions, sending cold chills down her spine and spindles of dread through every muscle of her limbs until they were snaking around her lungs and constricting tightly. She could hear Shawn's angry hisses of a name that very few dared to speak, and Glenn's quiet mumblings of prayer or regret or sorrow or whatever it was that he'd felt once he realized they were in way too deep to ever come out again. She could hear Simon's cold laughter echoing in through the second story window of the farmhouse and her momma's last wailing cries of anguish. And police sirens… so many sirens.

She couldn't push any of it out, couldn't force it back into the dark depths it had emerged from. The name shoved its way through just like all those memories, all those mental photos and audio clippings, all those haunting fears and abysmally dark playbacks.

It was the first and _only_ name that popped into her head. And it poured from her dry lips on a shaky breath.

" _The Governor._ "

Jesus nodded. And Beth hadn't even realized there were tears in her eyes until she felt one sliding down her cheek.

 **to be continued...**

* * *

 **A/N:** Chapter title comes from "Blood Red Summer" by Coheed and Cambria.

Sorry for the 7 month wait. I have... nothing to say for myself. Hope you enjoyed the update!


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